How did I forget? I promised them months ago that I'd be there. I helped plan the whole thing with them, picked out the decorations, ordered the special cake.
"I know," I say, suddenly feeling physically sick.
"They're counting on you to be here. We can change the time to later after you get off work. Diana's been talking about it all week at school, telling everyone that her big brother is going to be there. Telling everyone you helped plan it all."
"I know. God, I know." I feel like I'm being torn in two directions. "I can't miss it. I would never do that to them. I promised."
"No, you can't," Rosalyn agrees firmly. "But maybe you could go see Jay Sunday night after work for a couple of hours?"
"By the time I got there, I'd have maybe an hour with him before I'd have to turn around. I'd be exhausted the whole time, barely present."
"Then maybe a phone call is enough for now. Let him know you're thinking about him."
"I call him every single night already. It doesn't feel like enough. It feels like I'm failing him."
Rosalyn reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. "You can't be in two places at once. You're doing the best you can with an impossible situation."
I want to believe her, but the bad feeling in my gut keeps getting worse.
That night, I call Jay at our usual time. When he answers, he sounds worn down.
"Hey, how are you holding up?" I ask, trying to hide my own worry.
"I'm managing. Work keeps me busy. You sound tense. What's going on?"
"I need to tell you something about next weekend."
"Just tell me. Are you working next weekend too?"
"I wasn't planning on working both days so I could at least come down for a few hours, but the twins' birthday is on Saturday. Diana and Destiny are turning eleven, and I promised them months ago that I'd be there for the party. I helped plan the whole thing with them, and they're counting on me to show up."
"Then you have to be there. Absolutely no question about it."
"But that's three weekends in a row without seeing you, and I'm so sorry."
"Stop, just stop. Those girls need you there. Do you have any idea what I would have given to have someone show up for me when I was their age? Someone who actually wanted to be there, who made promises and kept them? Can you imagine if someone had thrown us a real birthday party?"
Of course he understands.
"Foster kids remember every single broken promise," Jay continues quietly. "They remember every adult who said they'd be there and wasn't. Every birthday that nobody showed up for. You showing up for those girls, being someone they can actually count on, that means everything to them."
"I hate leaving you alone for another weekend."
"I know you do. And I'm not going to lie and say it's easy being here by myself." He takes a breath. "But I'm a grown man, and those are kids who need stability. Who need to know that adults can be trusted. Go be their big brother. Celebrate with them. Make sure they know they matter to you."
"You matter too, Jay. You matter so much to me."
"I know I do. But I've had years to learn how to survive on my own. They're still learning. They need you more than I do right now."
Something about the way he says it makes my heart hurt. Not because he sounds resentful, but because he sounds resigned. Like he's accepted that his needs come last, the way they always have.
"As soon as the party is over, as soon as the Riverside project is done, I swear I'm coming to see you," I promise him.
"I can't wait," he says.
We talk for another half hour about the party plans, about the butterfly-rocket compromise the twins made on the cake, and for a little while it almost feels normal.
But after we hang up, I lie awake for hours worrying.
