“And they’ve been the sole caregivers for how long?”
“Since she was four. There was another foster mother before that.” Lilac shrugs. “I don’t know what happened to her.”
He’s made a page of notes, but I can’t read anything from his expression.
“Okay,” he says finally. “So, the bad news is that in cases of adoption, siblings aren’t recognised as having rights to visitation. If they haven’t yet taken that step, and without knowing why they haven’t, we must presume it remains a consideration. Launching legal action might very well prompt them to do so. If that happens, and is approved, then unless they agree, you won’t have any right to access until your sister reaches her majority.”
“Fuck off,” I say without thinking. “You’re meant to make the situation better, not worse.”
“Where siblings enter the system,” Aaron continues as though I hadn’t spoken, “it’s customary to keep them together, but this obviously didn’t happen in your case. Given the age gap between you, and the vast difference in your needs that’s perhaps unsurprising.”
“And what does any of that mean for me now?”
“You can leave things as they are. Since you already have an order in place, once this matter resolves, things should revert to normal. Unless”—he eyes Lilac in a way that makes my knuckles itch for contact—“you had something to do with the situation.”
“They won’t even tell me what the problem is, so how could I know? I’ve done nothing wrong. I gave her a phone, but a present isn’t banned”—Aaron holds his hand up but she barrels straight through—“and don’t tell me it has to be approved by the supervisor because that’s bollocks. It wasn’t a hand grenade. I didn’t want to hurt her.”
“That’s your professional opinion, is it?” I ask, my anger fuelled by her upset. “She can try for better but might lose contact altogether or she can leave things alone? Great choices you’re offering.”
“They’re notmychoices. They’re the options open under the law.” Aaron fixes his beady eyes on Lilac. “I’m supposing your relationship with her foster family was better before your drug habit got under way?”
I’m across the desk before I know it. My chair kicked back, fists grabbing hold of his crisp white shirt. “Don’t you fucking dare say it. Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Let him go,” Lilac says, getting to her feet. “He’s right. It’s my fault and I just have to deal with the consequences.”
“She’s eighteen,” I state through thin lips. “Can’t she become her guardian?”
“A teenage half-sibling who’s in recovery for drug abuse? No.” Aaron shakes his head in case we were in any doubt. “That won’t happen. Nobody’s going to pick your girlfriend as a better guardian than long-term foster parents who have stable incomes, a stable relationship, stablelives.”
“Zach.” Lilac pulls the man’s shirt from between my fingers. “Let’s go.”
I jerk away, seething with rage. I caused this. I need to fix it.
And this man needs to do his job.
“Put together an application,” I tell him.
“For?”
“A parenting order. You know how to do that, don’t you?”
“Didn’t you just hear what I said?” Aaron doesn’t even bother to smooth out the wrinkles I caused on his shirt. His face is impassive. His mood calm. “There’s no way the court will grant such an application and if you continue to push the issue, her foster family might very well move for adoption and cut off all contact.”
“I wasn’t asking your permission.”
“No.” Lilac’s face contorts with as much anger as mine. Of course, it is. We’re both plastering the emotion straight over our guilt. “I won’t let you bully this man into making things worse. I refuse to lose the only chance I have left to see her.”
Her hands clench, wanting to pull me or push me or shove me out of the room. But she doesn’t.
If she can respect my insane boundaries, I can do the same for her.
“Sorry.” I duck my head and run my hand through my hair before meeting the man’s eyes again. “Do whatever you think is best.”
I grab hold of Lilac’s hand and let her lead me out the door.
Aaron can’t fix this, but it doesn’t mean it can’t be fixed.
I’ll just have to sort things myself.
