Rain: Hi Nash. We’ll come and help out with whatever we can. Corey asked if her room needs painting at all?
Me: Thanks Rain. The room’s a blank canvas at the moment. The plasterer refinished it and then I painted it plain white. If Corey thinks he can make it look better for a 4-year-old girl, I’d be grateful.
The thought of Corey making his mark on my daughter’s room makes me happy. I look at the sketch of my house he gifted me yesterday. The way he’s captured the beauty of the house in summer, when he’s never seen it, is remarkable, but there’s also such a sense of hope in the image. The way the light highlights the plants, the way the windows seem to glow with warmth, the way the front door is ever so slightly ajar, as though welcoming you inside.
If he can manage to make Nancy’s bedroom anywhere near as welcoming, she’ll be a very lucky little girl.
I take a deep breath, clearing my head of thoughts of Corey, and allowing myself to focus on the meeting that will change my life, and hopefully Nancy’s life, for the better in…
Oh shit. Two hours. Fuck, the reality is terrifying.
I jump up from the stool at the kitchen island and rush to get myself sorted and ready to go. I pick up the small stuffed seal I bought when I was in Norwich last week, in preparation for this moment. Corey has been so enamoured by the animals that I thought of him as soon as I saw it in the shop window, assuming any child would enjoy it. Now, knowing the child is Nancy, it feels as though the universe may well have been guiding me.
I don’t recognise myself in that train of thought. Whimsy, kismet, and ideas of fate and destiny have never in my life been something I pinned meaning to. But, as I read Nancy’s file, and even making the choice to purchase that particular stuffed animal, I can’t help but wonder if maybe I’ve been missing out on the bigger picture.
Or maybe Corey’s optimism is rubbing off on you.
Popping the toy in a small gift bag andpatting down my pockets to make sure I have my wallet and phone, I grab my keys and head outside and climb into my new car. It was delivered last week, and I was right in thinking Aidan would have something to say. He spent the first twenty minutes after I arrived at Mum and Dad’s yesterday giving me shit.
The twists and turns of the small roads through Fenside Common are familiar to me, and so my progress is as swift as it can be, but once I reach the dual carriageway, I’m not ashamed to say I almost burn rubber in my haste to get there. I’m meeting Nancy at her foster home, as recommended in her transition to adoption plan. I’m normally a stickler for speed limits, but I refuse to be late. Thankfully, with it being Boxing Day, the roads are decidedly more quiet than they might otherwise be, and I make it with almost fifteen minutes to spare.
At eleven o’clock on the dot, I hop out of my car and make my way to the bright yellow front door. The cheerfulness of it makes me smile. I spot Abigail through the glass in the door, and breathe out a deep breath before she pulls the door open.
“Nash, hi,” Abigail says cheerfully, as she moves to the side, allowing me entry to the Victorian terraced house.
“Hi, how are you?” I enquire, shaking her hand. Abigail has a firm handshake in stark contrast to my shaking hands. She smiles understandingly at me.
“There’s nothing to worry about, Nash. She’s very excited to meet you.” My stomach flips at those words, and I feel a telltale burning in the back of my eyes. “Let’s grab a coffee, you’ll meet her foster parents, and I’ll give you some guidance on how to approach today and let you know about next steps.”
We make our way through the entrance hall and into a spacious kitchen-diner at the back of the house.
A surprisingly young couple stand from their seats at the dining table and make their way over to us, both smiling at me as they approach.
“Hi, Nash,” Caitlin says, a warm smile on her face as she grasps my proffered hand in both of hers, warmly.
“Big day?” Drew acknowledges, giving me a firm handshake once his wife moves aside. “How’re you doing?”
I blow out breath, pursing my lips, and we all laugh.
“Let me make us all a coffee, and we can chat,” Caitlin says. “What would you like, Nash? I have this fancy coffee machine here. I’m a bit of a coffee snob, I’m afraid,” she whispers conspiratorially. “That’s what two years working in a café in Rome will do to you, so I can make you literally anything.” She smiles at me expectantly. I return the gesture, some of my nerves dissipating in her calming presence.
“Just a black Americano would be wonderful, please,” I say.
The next half an hour or so is spent getting all the details I need to know. Nancy wears age 2-3 clothes, loves Coco Pops cereal, any fruit she can get her hands on, and will eat anything if it comes with cheese. Same, kid. Same. She loves drawing and colouring, Barbies, cutting up paper and sticking it down to make pictures, and Bluey. What the fuck is Bluey? I make yet another note of something to research.
Abigail moves the discussion on after a while, as she details the transition plan.
“We’ll have a mid-way review as we go,” Abigail explains, “but I have to be honest with you, Nash. This process is fast and can sometimes feel a bit overwhelming. Just talk to me if you need anything throughout, and obviously,you have your parents and Wren—”
“I told my brothers yesterday, so I have the whole extended family on hand for support. Don’t worry. I’m excited to bring her home as soon as she’s ready.”
Abigail, Caitlin, and Drew all smile at me, and then, at Abigail’s suggestion, Caitlin heads upstairs to fetch Nancy from her bedroom.
Abigail looks at me with a questioning tilt of her brow. “Nervous,” she asks, a slight gleam in her eye. I see in that second why she’s so good at her job. She is incredibly talented at reading people and situations, and has such vast experience in her field that I trust her to make the best decisions for Nancy’s well-being. As far as I’m concerned, the sooner I can get her home, the better, but I want to make sure that’s what’s best for her.
“I’m that obvious?” I ask, a small chuckle masking my nerves.
“Not terribly obvious, but I’d be concerned if you weren’t a little apprehensive, Nash. This is a big day, and the fact you recognise that, and feel strongly about it, tells me everything I need to know.”
