Vacant(24)

"He…"

I take a deep breath, bracing for whatever it is.

"He's also autistic."

I went to the library and read every journal article I could get my hands on. If I was going to mentor this kid, I wanted to know what I was in for. Emily was awesome, too. She gave me a lot of strategies for working with him given his limited communication capabilities and responsiveness. Erin also recommended I take a course in dealing with behavior as Tanner had frequent… meltdowns. While a typical child has tantrums, he would have fits lasting hours. No amount of coaxing or pleading would make a difference. Tanner would harm himself and others in the process, but it never detoured our decision to keep him.

The first month was a little rocky, and by rocky I mean there were huge fucking boulders. However, it never crossed my mind to give up on Tanner. Not only was this kid watching his mother die, he couldn't even express how he was feeling about it in a typical manner. His expression manifested in screaming and biting instead of crying or saying he was sad.

Outings were always… interesting, to say the least. The last seven months had been better, though. I'd learned what his triggers were by meeting with his behavior therapist so I could keep up with his program and provide some consistency.

The last couple of months, we'd gone to a restaurant, eaten an entire meal, and left again without a tantrum. There was definite progress.

Last week, Erin had called with news that Janice was in the hospital and being moved to hospice. They would provide comfort and care in her final days. Erin let me know they were going to set up some panel interviews for prospective foster families and asked if I could join them.

While none of the families were bad, none of them were good—at least for Tanner. When I asked them how they would deal with his special needs, there was usually a long pause, followed by an unsure smile. That told me they had no clue, and that worried me.

~

Emily and I went to Cornerstones the day after I came home with the idea of taking Tanner. She said I was there when she needed me, and now someone else required my attention. Erin was encouraged by my—our—decision to take Tanner. She felt he would continue to make strides with our family, even after Janice passed. There seemed to be a collective sigh of relief that a plan was in place.

"So, it's official. The Family Services worker approved your application. You will be Tanner's foster family for the next year. At the end of that year, should you still wish to pursue it, you can petition for adoption. The judge granted and signed a temporary placement order for Tanner to live with you. When Jan has…" Erin can't finish, but I know what she's getting at, so I finish for her. "Then, we'll get permanent guardianship."

"Yes."

~

The judge signed the order for temporary guardianship at 3:07 this afternoon.

Janice has been in a drug-induced coma for the last three days, and has no knowledge of Emily's and my intent to foster Tanner.

"Do you think we should go see Janice and tell her? I know she's unconscious, but then I'd at least feel like we were somehow asking for her bless—"

I don't finish as Emily's phone rings with Erin's special ringtone. "When I see your face, there's not a thing that I would change, 'cause you're amazing just the way—" Fucking Bruno Mars.

"Hello."

We left the courthouse ten minutes ago—Erin must've forgotten to tell us something.

I glance to Emily as she listens to Erin on the other end of the line. Her smile softens and then her face turns grim. I suddenly wonder if there is a problem. I look up in the rear-view mirror at Tanner. He's sitting stock still and perfectly straight in the seat, looking out the window. Mark can tell something is wrong, but he stays silent waiting for us to say something.

"Oh."

Then, Emily nods as if Erin can see her. Her eyes are turning glassy and I know what that means. I pull over to the side of the road. Tanner begins to rock since the car has stopped and then starts to moan. The longer we sit still, the louder his moans get.

I reach for Emily's hand, my silent question waiting for verification.

"She passed at 3:12 p.m. It's like she knew, Ethan." Emily begins to cry while Tanner groans. "She knew he was okay."

I think Tanner knows, too. People assume he doesn't understand because he can't express it, but I think he does.

Now, I'm torn. Do I comfort my wife or my new son? "Let's move to the back seat," I whisper.

We sit on the shoulder of Route 35, in the back seat of our two-year-old Corolla, embracing each other. Emily and I sandwich our boys between us as Tanner continues to rock and hum.

"This, too, shall pass," my wife whispers as she—we—hold our new family together and continue living.