Page 91 of Chosen Road

Gus

Yiayia came down with a cold Saturday night.

Amber spent two days running back and forth between the house and her condo before packing a bag and moving into the guest room.

My work demanded all my spare time on Monday, and perhaps that was best. We both needed a breather, space to regroup, after that fiasco with Jacqueline.

I still could not believe I’d been taken in by her act. I rubbed my hand over my jaw, thinking. It wasn’t her. It could have been anyone.

Amber and I rarely crossed paths Sunday or Monday, and when we did, she was friendly and polite, but distant.

Monday night I called her cell after she went to bed.

“Gus?” she answered, her voice confused.

“Hi.” I held my breath, wondering if she would catch on, hoping she’d go along with it.

“Um, hi?”

“How was your day?” There was silence on her end for a moment and then I heard the rustling of sheets and blankets as she settled. Her voice, when she next spoke, sounded relaxed.

“Not as busy as yours, I don’t think,” she murmured into the phone.

She was deflecting. Hm.

“I have two closings this week. One tomorrow, one Thursday. Tell me how things are going at work?”

“Good? Busy. There are too many kids, not enough workers, and the hours allotted to each case are too few. It takes months for these kids to open up, by the time they do, their allotted time is nearly at an end. It’s sad.”

“You have any tough cases?”

“I have one really tough case. She’s almost sixteen. At that age, they’re biding their time until they can get out of the system. They think it’s going to be better then, but it won’t be. Not for most of them. I wish I could do more. If they would talk, I could help them. But, these kids, they’re closed off.”

“They’ve been hurt. They don’t know who to trust.”

“That’s true, but it’s more than that. Even if they did know who to trust, they wouldn’t choose to trust. Too many people have let them down.”

“Do you feel like that?” I knew I was taking a giant risk by asking, but I wanted her to know she didn’t have to hide from me, or at least know that I was somewhat aware.

When she finally answered, it floored me. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Oh, beautiful, you would not be telling me anything we both don’t know. I’m just asking if you also choose not to trust.”

For a long minute, she was silent. I waited for her to think.

“In order to build trust,” she began, her voice so small and tentative it hurt my heart. “I have to choose small pieces of information and give them to you. Each time you receive them with love and acceptance, that increases my confidence to share more. I’ve been working on that.”

“You’ve been doing great at that. I crave your trust, Amber. I want it. I’ll guard it with my life.”

She didn’t respond to what I said but continued after another long silence.

“Another thing I’m learning to do is identify my emotions to figure out the areas where resentment might build, as well as to identify triggers to my abandonment issues, notice them before I mindlessly act on them. Like I did today.”

“Thank you for telling me this, beautiful. Can I ask one thing about that?”

“Okay…”

“How do you think I would have reacted if our roles had been reversed?”

---