A huge smile broke her face in two – she was thrilled by my choice. She handed him to me. “You can take him with you to keep you company in case you’re lonely.”
I took the soft stuffy and held it against my heart. A golf ball was lodged in my throat. I couldn’t let her see me cry. She needed to see this as a happy event. She was already worried out of her little ten year old mind. “Thank you,” I said. “I love him, and I’ll keep him on my bed.”
“He likes to be petted at night,” she explained.
I smiled. “Sure, I promise to pet him every night.”
“He also likes to sit by the window during the day.”
“Sure, I promise to sit him by the window before I go off to classes.”
“And he likes to be taken out at least once a week.”
Geez, this little doggie was suddenly very high maintenance. I wasn’t sure I could swing that one. Oh, what the hell, the place would be filled with weirdos. I was sure that I could rock a stuffed animal and no one would care.
She threw herself at me and I wrapped me into a big bear hug, and then I just lost it. I bawled my eyes out – I couldn’t help it.
She pulled from me. “I guess we won’t be able to have cinnamon toast together anymore?!” she asked with the saddest eyes I’d ever seen.
Cinnamon toast is a little tradition of ours. Every night, at around eight o’ clock, just before Kylie’s bedtime, we share a slice of buttered toast, sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. The four of us each have a quarter.
“Maybe we still can. We can Facetime. You can have my piece.”
She nodded and mulled this over, a little finger perched on the corner of her mouth. “Maybe Mommy can have it. Or Daddy…”
“Sounds good. I’ll see what I can do. I promise.”
It hadn’t fully sunk in until that moment.
My life was about to change. Big time.
6
The brochure and web site had not done RAMS justice.
It is so much better in real life -- a gothic-castle with turrets (yes, turrets!), old medieval-like stone walls, and stain glass windows. It was built in 1896, and is set on ten acres, surrounded by lush greenery, and sits on the shores of Belgrave Lake in Maine.
There I was, frozen with my jaw to the floor. This definitely beat my old high school; a typical concrete block surrounded by chain-link. The coolest thing about my old school was the gum ball machine in the principal’s office.
I was shaking when we stepped out of the car. I don’t know why – I never shake. Honestly, I was a complete mess. The driver pulled my luggage, and thankfully, I had no problems keeping up with Simone – the woman wears four inch heels and she walks kind of slowly. I spotted a few kids walking up the stairs to the entrance, but I was too enthralled with the view to pay them any mind.
Oh my…as my mom would say.This place.
The entrance hall was filled with stain glass windows; beautiful designs in blues, yellows, oranges, reds and purples. Even the ceilings were stained glass. I felt like I was held captive in one of those decorative glass hanging balls, like I was inside a kaleidoscope; the kind we all played with as kids, one eye shut and a hand twirling. It looked like one of those old churches you’d see in Europe. I’ve actually never been, but I can only imagine.
A series of tree designs in the alcove windows displayed the breathtaking views of the landscape outside.
A tall well-dressed man welcomed us; dark skin, blue suit, hipster glasses. That’s all I took in. I was too busy looking all around me, like I was on Mars or something.
“Good day, Mrs. Adler. This must be the famous Annabelle Jenkins,” I heard him say in a slight accent; possibly Spanish or French.
“This is Philippe,” Simone told me. “He’s the administrator here. Anything you need, you ask him.”
I nodded shyly, my throat painfully dry. He offered me a glass of water or juice, almost as if he could tell I was dying of thirst. I wondered if everyone at RAMS could read minds like me.
“Thank you, do you have orange juice?”
“Sure do.”
