Page 1 of Made For Me

CHAPTER1

Julia

Twisting the water bottle cap off, I bring the plastic bottle to my lips. “I wish this was something stronger,” I mumble to myself before the cold water hits my dry mouth. My stomach lurches, and I lean back against the counter in the staff kitchen. After six years of doing this job, you would think I would be used to this, but nothing—and I mean nothing—can prepare you for it.

“Hey.” My boss, Rosalind, sticks her head into the kitchen, her black hair pushed back by a headband. “Monica is in your office.” The minute she says those five words, the water wants to come back up. “Let me know if you need me.”

I huff out a big deep breath. “Will do.” I nod at her, and when she leaves, I let my head hang forward. “Here we go.” I push my sandy-blond hair behind my ear, walking to my cubicle I call an office.

“Don’t touch that, Penelope.” I hear Monica as I make the dreaded walk toward the voice. Every step feels like my feet are getting heavier and heavier. “Why can’t you ever freaking listen?” I hear her hiss. “Come here.”

I stand at the cubicle entrance, watching her as she grabs Penelope by the wrist and pulls her toward her, picking her up and placing her on her lap. “Be good, and when we leave here, I’ll get you candy.”

“Candy?” Penelope looks up at her mom, and my heart breaks for what is to come. I swallow down the lump.

“Hey,” I say, walking into the cubicle and going to sit in my chair. The desk is against one wall of the cubicle with the chair Monica sits on right beside it. “Thank you for coming.” I turn my chair to look at her. My chair, not very far from hers, as I grab her thick manila folder. I try not to make eye contact with her and shut myself off.

“It’s not like I had a choice,” Monica huffs, and I look at her now. Her bleached-blond hair is down to her shoulders, but her black roots are half of her head. “You said it was mandatory.”

“All meetings are mandatory,” I inform her. “This isn’t new.” I look down at the notes even though I know this whole file by heart. “How are things going?”

“As they always are,” she huffs out. I look down at Penelope, who just looks at me, her brown hair tied in a lopsided ponytail. Her blue eyes are so crystal that you can see through them. She’s wearing little blue jeans and a pink top.

“How are you, Penelope?” I look down at the two-year-old little girl who says three words, mama, bobba for bottle, and candy.

She points behind her. “Mama,” she tells me proudly, and I smile at her.

“So what am I really doing here, Julia?” Monica asks as the diaper bag on her shoulder falls down to her elbow.

“Well.” I fold my hands together and place them on top of the folder. “As you know, the last couple of visits haven’t exactly been okay.” She rolls her eyes at me, and I want to think she is listening to me, but at this point, I have no idea if she’s even listening at all. But the rolling of the eyes pushes me over the edge. “And I gave you enough warning for you to shape up.”

“What are you saying?” She sits up when she hears my tone.

“I hate to say this,” I say, and the stinging comes to my eyes, “but we have decided to place Penelope.”

I can see her expression change the minute I say that. Her arm wraps around her daughter, and I know deep down she loves her daughter with everything she has. But she’s a child raising a child, and I am not one to judge anyone, but she didn’t exactly have the best parental role models. “You can’t do that,” she says, and her lower lip quivers.

“You left us no choice.” I look at her and see the tears roll over her lower lashes. “You failed the random drug test.”

“It was a mistake. I didn’t know.” I almost roll my eyes. “By accident, I put a molly in my Tylenol bottle. I swear I haven’t touched anything since then.” Her voice goes high and trembles. “Please, Julia, give me another chance.” Her hands even shake a bit with nerves.

“I’ve given you chance after chance after chance, Monica,” I remind her softly. “You think this is what I want?” I shake my head, trying to keep things as calm as I can. I’ve been doing this a long time, and there have been times that taking away a child has put me in the middle of danger. I had a father pull out a knife and threaten to slice me open and eat my insides. I mean, he was high on meth, but it will stay with me forever. “You’ve been in my case file since you were fifteen, and now you’re almost twenty-one.”

“I swear, Julia, I’m trying,” she whispers. “I swear if you give me one more chance, you won’t regret it.” I look down, and my head is screaming no, but then I look up at her. “I swear, I just need one more chance. If I fuck up again,” she says, and her hands circle Penelope’s waist, “then you can take her from me.”

“We aren’t taking her from you.” I try to say it as delicately as I can. I love my job, I really do, but days like this… Days like today when I have to take a child from their parent, I really rethink what the hell I’m doing this for. “We are helping you get everything you need to help with Penelope.”

“What she needs is to be with her mother,” Monica pleads. “I know I haven’t always been on the ball with some of her things. But I’m learning.” My stomach flips. “I swear to God, Julia, if you give me one more chance, you won’t regret it.”

I tap my finger on the papers, knowing I should just take Penelope and turn away, but I also know this might just be the wake-up call Monica needs. Knowing she is one step away from losing her little girl might be the kick in the ass to straighten her up. “You know if I give you this one last chance, I’m putting my neck on the line,” I say honestly.

“I swear, Julia, you won’t be sorry,” she assures me, and I believe her. At least I believe she wants to be a better parent.

“We meet again in two weeks. If anything, and I mean anything, comes up…” I don’t finish my sentence because she jumps up. I pop up at the same time as she does.

“I promise you, Julia.” She turns Penelope around so she can sit on her hip. “You won’t be sorry.”

“I want you to call me every other day,” I say. “And I want you to have a job in the next two weeks.”

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