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Single Foster Father Chapter 1: My New Babies I walked into the group home not sure what to expect, really. The woman, a Sharon Rhimes had called me in the day before telling me, a 47 year old single man, that after three long years of waiting to be vetted and to finally pass through the red tape and the multiple checks that were required, that they finally had two children that might benefit from a single father like me. My name is Alan Riverstone, and with graying medium brown hair, bushy eyebrows, and a less than perfectly smooth shave, I walked into this darkened room where even with the lights on everywhere, there seemed to be a gloom about the green walled place. My red and white checkered shirt and somewhat faded but still in good repair bluejeans hung confidently from my wiry frame. The round lenses of my spectacles took in a room full of children playing on the floor or reading in the chairs—some as young as seven or eight, and some as old as fourteen years. I glanced around trying to see if I recognized the children that I’d finally get to father, as I walked behind the pole of a woman with red hair and green eyes. “So, as I told you on the phone, Mr. Riverstone, these two children that somewhat fit your request, and who really need someone that they can look to for protection, have had difficult situations particularly in the last year.” I nodded my head heavily as the woman talked to me about my new children. “The younger child, a ten year old, was rescued from a place that didn’t believe in her so much, that she suffered from neglect because the people that were entrusted to protect her allowed their son who was nearly five years older than her to do awful things to her.” “What, did he hit her?” “Well, no, but what he did do, would be considerably, arguably, worse by most.” I frowned and gritted my teeth. Who would do something even worse, not that hitting was okay, but if it was worst than that, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to know what they did to the poor little one. “What’s the baby’s name?” I asked. “Well, she’s far from a baby,” the woman told me as though she thought I was somehow unable to distinguish a two year old from a ten year old, but I didn’t see any point in getting on with that fight. My purpose here, was to collect my two babies, and to finally take my own daughters home with me. She had said I was getting daughters that evening before. “So, the ten year old’s name is Michelle,” she went on after eyeing me for a moment, but seemed to have decided that me calling the ten year old a baby wasn’t the worst crime any new parent has committed. “She has a lot of trust issues and at the same time, she is pretty needy.” I just nodded. I felt like anyone that is older than three in a system that placed you with strangers rather than with familiar people would be needy anyway; even if not all of them wanted to accept it. I walked into an office with a large bureau in the center of the room, the typical rolling chair behind it with two formal looking comfortable chairs that faced it. To one side, there were two little girls, sitting at a table, somewhat quiet, though I had the distinct impression that they had been whispering moments before the door opened. The lady was still talking to me, as though it didn’t matter, and that the children in the office were in on what she was sharing with me already. “Michelle’s mother was less than ideal, but the system had given her another chance, and she was taken away from her again just last month.” I frowned. “So… I’m going to be having a parent coming around that gets visitation, but is less than ideal for the girl?” “No,” the woman said. “She has lost visitation rights when she was caught a couple months ago using her daughter to commit crimes for her.” I frowned. “Michelle, honey, will you come over here? I have someone I’d like you to meet,” Sharon addressed the little girl with brown hair that had a light reddish glow to it. Her face had a few cute little spots particularly by the nose that I just adored, and she had amber brown eyes. The little one wore a green top that was quite dirty and stained, and as she approached us, I could smell that it seemed she had not taken a bath in days. Her little legs were covered by a pair of purple pants that had holes in them, and they were quite as stained and dirty as the top, if not worse. What was worse, as I looked out the window into the winter day, and was easily reminded that it was snowing, I sort of wondered where her socks were as she did have on some shoes, but those shoes did not look like they were meant for winter. The tops of her feet were exposed, and they seemed to have blisters on them, as well. The shoes also definitely had seen better days. I smiled upon seeing Michelle come over and show me a picture she had colored. It was actually a really nice one, and I wondered if I knew children at all, or if maybe she had some talent. The child smiled back at me, and in her hands, was a picture of a nice little house and a nice little yard with a large bonfire next to it. Trailing out of the fire, was a length of something that I supposed at first was a snake; for I had my attention mostly on the little cutie that held it. “Those are belts,” she seemed to guess that I had would not get that they were belts rather than snakes from the first moment of looking at the colorful picture. “Why are the belts burning?” I asked her. “Because that girl doesn’t like belts,” the little one pointed at the other child who had been at the little round table with her. “There’s wire hangers in the fire, too, but I decided not to show one because that older girl told me that she didn’t think that wire hangers would burn up like belts.” I frowned as I turned to the dark blond girl who looked a little fuller in weight, as well as a little taller because of course the other little one I was getting was supposed to be thirteen years of age. Even if she was to be thirteen, I wasn’t sure if the ten year old was tall for a child her age, or if the thirteen year old was short, but the height difference between them was not as extreme as I thought it would be. I smiled over at the little teenager, and she narrowed her eyes at me for a moment, but as I continued to just smile at her, she dropped her brown eyes to her lap, and I thought I saw a small smirk on her face as it lit up for just a moment before she forced herself to frown again. “That one is Samantha,” Sharon told me as I looked at the baby with a brown shirt that had long thick sleeves, and a pair of jeans that had no holes at all, her panties and lower stomach was covered perfectly by her jeans top, even to the point that when she scooted out and started to walk towards us, I didn’t see the pants pull down or the shirt pull up showing any of her panty at all. I mean, that could mean she was just more decent than most girls took care to be, but somehow, by the way it looked as I looked back at Mrs. Rhimes, I felt that there was going to be a lot more to it than that, perhaps even the reason she hated belts. “That child has been in the system since she was around four,” the lady told me. “And she had never been adopted because almost every person she has ever been tried with had returned her within six months telling us she was too much. This last family she was with lasted the longest, nearly a year with her, but in the end, they really should not have had the opportunity to even have a child.” I frowned. “Did they...?” I grew a little worried about what could have happened to her. Sharon nodded. “They hit her regularly most of the time, it turns out, with wire hangers, but they also used the backs of shoes, belts, and just a couple of nights ago, when she was taken away from them, a garden hose.” I felt tears run to my eyes. “They hit her with a garden hose, and with… with…,” I couldn’t get the words out. “...With anything that they thought would hurt her,” Sharon concluded my thoughts. “Why on earth?” I asked without meaning to. I mean, sure, I wondered that, but I didn’t expect anyone to have a logical answer for that kind of behavior towards a child. Children are not punching bags! “Because I’m bad,” I heard someone whisper. The whisper in the air was so gentle and soft as it seemed to linger, it was if someone took a strand of honey, that barely hung together, as if anymore pulling would break it in half, and the echo of it tortured my mind. “No one is THAT bad,” I told her. “I don’t care what they think you did, or what you think you did,” I felt my lip quiver as I spoke to her. “No child deserves to be hit with a garden hose, a hanger, or a shoe. Those are not natural, even for someone that believes in spanking a child.” She just looked down for a couple of minutes. Frowning, I rubbed her arm as I held her close to me trying to hug her. “She does have some social issues,” Sharon told me seriously as I looked down collecting myself from what I had just heard the child say. “She lies, she steals, and she sometimes bullies little kids.” I looked up again, and then to the thirteen year old, that even while I was sitting, it felt like she was barely a head over my shoulder. “Do you like to steal?” I asked her though I was not accusing her, but just trying to give her a chance to deny it. Samantha actually just shrugged. “Sometimes,” she mumbled. “Well, Sometimes...? Sometimes, the only way you get to eat, is if you steal.” Michelle looked up at me from the other side, for I had each of them at each side of me as we got to understand each other. The little Michelle was nodding. “My mom made me steal from people so we could eat sometimes. The police caught me the last time, and so I got put with that other people, and now, I’m in jail.” “Honey, do you think this place is jail?” I asked her. Michelle nodded. I looked over at Mrs. Rhines. “I told you, her mother made her do crimes, and that’s one of the reasons she has lost visitation rights to see her. She was warned a couple of years before about doing that to her daughter, but the child was inside someone’s house, who let her in to use the bathroom, and they found out she tried to take money from them, and they called the police instead of her mother, who seemed to have run away.” I shook my head. By now, with both of the girls right next to me for a few moments now, I realized that one or maybe both of them smelled like they hadn’t bathed in a couple of days. “So, both girls have been stealing, lying, and the older one hits little kids,” Mrs. Rhimes summed it all up for me as she passed me their folders. “Now, I know that they are not ideal kids for anyone, but honestly, given you are forty-seven years of age, have no wife or woman in your life, and that you are not exactly middle class, you are lucky that you were even approved as quickly as you were.” I frowned but I knew that I’d be judged a little bit more than most, especially since I wanted girls to spoil instead of a boy. “But you were approved, so while these are the first girls that we have available for you, they are not the best you can get if you want children a little better behaved.” “And what will happen to these two angels if I don’t take them?” I asked. “The elder one will likely continue to be put in temporary homes until she gets too big for that, and then she will live a couple of years in a halfway house, and finally age out of the system….” “With no one really loving her?” I asked. The lady nodded and I saw her face go taut as though there was as much disgust to her about that idea as I felt the pit in my stomach telling me that I could not even think about letting that happen. “And the little one?” “She’s still ten. If she turns herself around and stops stealing and lying, she might have a chance, but with what she’s learned….” “That’s just as unlikely, and she’ll end up the same way as the elder child?” The woman nodded. “You know what, I understand what it is like to have no one believe in you.” The woman now looked at me as if she wondered if I was comparing what I’ve seen or experienced to these children. I explained a little bit. “I wanted to have a nice little family complete with a wife and children of our own, but life doesn’t always give us what we want, but in the end, if we try to believe in ourselves enough, life will give us what we need.” The lady looked at me sideways, but I didn’t want to go into the ugly divorce where Angela had taken our child with her and without even asking for child support, just disappeared. “I don’t care what you believe, I want both of these little angels,” I told her. Mrs. Rhimes nodded and under her breath I heard her whisper. “I hope you last longer than a year.” I just tried to ignore what I thought I heard, and I grabbed both my little children around the waist, and even though the thirteen year old was a little big for it, and might even fight it, I pulled them into my lap anyway and hugged them. I heard the teenager suck in air as I pulled gently at her shoulder to get her in my lap, though at first I had not known which it was. I turned them both to face me, to see if I could decide which it was. The elder child had a look on her face, and she flinched her shoulder from me. I whispered to her. “Does it hurt, sweetie?” The child narrowed her eyes at me for a moment, but as I continued to stare my own blue emotion softened eyes at her, she eventually dropped her cold stare and nodded a little. “Is it inappropriate for me to see what damage they did to my child?” I asked Mrs. Rhines. “I’d rather look here, in front of another woman in front of her, so she and the younger one don’t get scared.” “You mean you want to look at her naked?” the motherly woman sounded a little surprised. “She just whispered out that she is still hurt, Mrs. Rhimes. You said she had been beaten a couple of days ago. Even if she was beaten a lot, it feels weird to me that she still hurts from whatever happened to her, and I am going to look one way or another because I’m worried about her. I figured if I looked at her while she is in the safety of another woman watching, she’d be a lot less scared, but if I have to, I’ll just look at her privately.” “Well, that’s hardly something a first time parent normally says when they are adopting.” “Just because they don’t say it,” I let it trail off wondering if I was being strange. “Look, I don’t know what being a father is like. I just know, I care if the kids are hurt, and she really seemed to try to bite her tongue the best she could, but she flinched, and she hurts.” “We do have photos,” Mrs. Rhimes told me. “I’m sorry, but I have a feeling that photos are not really going to do justice to what I need to know about my new children,” I told her. “I mean…, it’s not weird for a parent to worry if they think their child is hurt, is it?” “I suppose you are right. I know I still look at my high school daughter’s owies, if she complains too much about an injury that a moment ago looked innocent.” Michelle shivered a little bit though, and I held her to me. “What’s wrong, honey?” “You gonna put your hand in my pants,” she told me shaking. “Put my hand in your pants?” “Yeah. I don’t like that.” “Honey, I’m just going to see if you have owies, and Mrs. Rhimes is here. She is going to make sure it is safe. I bet she wouldn’t let me take you home with me if she thinks I’m unsafe.” Michelle looked at the nice social worker, and then back at me. “Okay. But your hands stay out of my panties, both of you,” she said with a shiver. I felt water in my eyes. I felt a tug at my heart. I hoped she was not eluding to what it seemed she was. Samantha, the elder child looked at me for a minute, and I saw the dismissive, teenage attitude in her eyes. I could tell she wanted to say, “Loser! I don’t have to do this. You’re just being gross,” or maybe she had other even harsher words for me, but you know, when you take care of a kid, you shouldn’t mind what they think of you at that one moment, but rather, you should do what you know is right, and knowing if my children are hurt is more right than worrying about their modesty. Samantha sighed, and she pulled up her shirt and off it went, revealing so many thin lashes that looked like little cuts, some of which did break the skin. Along with those, there were other broader lashes that left her skin darker in some areas, and then there was the heavier beatings all over her back, and then up and down her things, and eventually, without me saying anything, she took off her training bra and even pulled down her panties. I had seen enough. “You said that I will get the foster money in about fifteen days?” I asked the woman. “Yes?” “Is there anyway I can get some of it early, or maybe even just a recommendation for a doctor that will look at her before then?” “We did take her to see a doctor about these bruises,” Sharon told me. “Right…,” I said drawing out my reply trying to buy some time to think on how to respond in a way that was not accusing them of neglect, but wanting to point out that the hose hit her in very scary places that might have done more damage on the inside. “Look,” the red headed woman looked at me as she nodded to Samantha that she could pull up her pants and put her shirt back on. “The doctor checked for broken bones and her heart and lungs are working just fine.” I sighed. “She was hit more around her lower abdomen than anywhere else. I’m glad she doesn’t have broken bones, a punctured heart or lungs or whatever, but…,” and I pulled little Samantha back towards me, pulled her jeans back down to show the woman her back, her side, and where the welt disappeared into where she still had her panties up. I didn’t need to show her privates again. “She might not be okay just because her bruises will heal.” “Look, we did check her over, and the file on my desk has her medical file in it, and the one for Michelle has hers, as well.” “So… you are saying I’m not allowed to take her to see a doctor anyway, just to make sure?” “No, actually, I’m kind of glad you are insistent on that. I’m just trying to tell you that you’ll have to wait for the money and the insurance process to change and put them in your name.” I sighed. “Alright. Let’s see Michelle then.” One thing I said nothing about, but that I had noticed about poor little Samantha, was her panties had some stains in them, but it was probably because she didn’t wipe well. It probably wouldn’t take that much to teach her to wipe better and let her know the importance of it, but I’d do that later, after she was more comfortable with me. Michelle wasn’t really bruised much more than you’d expect from a healthy child playing around, so I was glad of that, but I did notice that she shook a lot when we had her pants down, even though I saw no reason to pull the squirming watery eyed child’s panties down. Her hands were securely on each side, keeping them in place, and she shook, as though she was ready to fight us tooth and nail if she had to. “Her mother did…?” I started to ask Mrs. Rhines. “No. Her mother has been out of the picture for a couple of months. Another bad situation, actually. In her case, the fostering family had a boy about five years older than her that was doing stuff to her.” That was enough. The children had been exposed enough and scared enough. I learned what I needed, so I intended to sent the children out of the office while I signed the papers that probably went into further details about what happened to them both. “Alright, babies,” I told them both. “While Mrs. Rhimes and I finish signing the paper work so I can take you to your new home, maybe you should go use the toilet and then get anything you want to bring with you.” Michelle looked up at Mrs. Rhimes, and when she nodded at her, the little ten year old was off like a flash, but Samantha hung back for a moment, and stared intently at me. I couldn’t help but look back up at her. “No one ever checked for bruises before,” she whispered at me. I smiled. “Well, I hope you take this as a sign that things are going to be different and hopefully better.” “Well, um… you saw, right?” “That you were hurt, yes, baby.” “No, I mean, that… um… I… the reason I got hit the other night.” “This happened the other night?” I asked her. “The hose beating did.” “Well, no, sweetheart, I didn’t notice a good reason to hit you with the garden hose. Do you want to tell me what I should have noticed?” “You didn’t see that I pooped my panties?” I frowned and looked down. “I… I did see, but I thought it was something else, baby.” “Oh, okay. Well, I was bad, so….” I grabbed her around her waist, and I sat her in my lap. “Bad?” I asked. “Because I pooped my pants…,” I could see tears starting to threaten appearance through her moistened eyes. “Baby, even if you did that kind of thing on purpose, and I highly doubt it given how embarrassed you were to even show us, and how much you are shaking to tell me about it, even if it was on purpose, it is no reason to beat a child with a hose.” She looked into my eyes, as if she was trying to read me. I just stared blankly back at her, not really sure how to explain to a child that has been abused as much as she has, that there is never a situation where it is okay to beat a child like this. “Samantha, go get your stuff, baby. I’m taking you home along with Michelle. You are my child, now, sweetheart.” “You… are you still taking me, even if I poop my pants all the time in the car?” I rubbed her back. “First of all, Yes, even if you poop your pants all the time, I’m taking you home. And if you are just pooping in the car and not really anywhere else, then it sounds like to me, that I need to learn what is causing it, so I can do something differently.” She stared at me for a few more seconds, and then she said, “I steal.” “Well, again, yes, I’m taking you even if you steal stuff. I’ll have to keep an eye on you for a while if that is true, but again, if you are admitting it, then it sounds like I need to find out why, and what I can do differently that will help you not do it anymore.” “It’s not other people’s fault if I’m doing bad stuff.” “Normally,” agreeing with her, I nodded my head as I responded. “I would agree with you. However, I’m not sure of what was done to you that made you feel like you had to steal or go to the bathroom on yourself. It’s not most teenagers that would go to the bathroom on themselves even if they are mad at someone. Something that bothers you caused this, sweetheart.” She looked at me for a moment longer, but finally, she turned and walked off to go get her stuff and to hopefully use the toilet.