Chapter 12: Z is 18

I knew that turning 18 meant more than just another birthday candle. I was now officially an adult. My CPS support would end, Fran’s support should continue. Mrs. Roberts had me sign some papers putting me as Fran’s foster parent. I was surprised when she said that the standard CPS payment per child was only $200 because counting rent we had been getting about $600 per month for the two of us. All she would say was that an anonymous donor was paying our rent money.

She continued, “The difference now is no more daily visits and you will be managing your own money. You will also have the $40,000 leftover from the sale of the home you lived in before you lost your mom. Manage your money carefully. You will need a job.”

On the day I turned 18 my BFFs, Becky and Jill told me at school that Jill’s mom would bake a cake and buy a tub of ice cream for Fran and me. It would be a 4-girl party. “Can we eat it at Idle Park at noon?” The birthday girl’s choice was approved.

We arrived first, hiding a bag with silly hats more suitable an eighth birthday party. (Contents to be discarded if they brought something like that.) Becky and Jill arrived in Jill’s mom’s car. But no mom. Jill had her license! I was so happy for her. We carried the cake and ice cream to our table. Jill put 18 candles on the cake and tried to light them. The steady warm breeze off the ocean prevented the candles from lighting.

“Before you guys sing Happy Birthday put these on.” Fran produced the hats. We made a giddy mess of the birthday song.

“Make a wish” (A regular job – something I did not say out loud.) I then pretended to blow out the unlit candles.

We carried the leftover cake and still good ice cream while Jill drove to our house. “Please be warned it’s small.” They had to see the place. I also had to believe that comments on small might be seen as a put-down. I was prepared to ignore any such and warned Fran that my friends might say something like that. They are nice girls it’s just that they have always lived in much larger houses.

I unlocked the door saying, “Welcome to our tiny home.”

As I walked to the refrigerator/freezer to keep the ice cream frozen Becky said, “It must be convenient with your kitchen and living room so close.”

“It certainly saves steps.”

Jill needed the bathroom. Upon exiting she asked, “Fran, how can two girls live with such a small bathroom?

“We have learned that rubbing past each other, while necessary, can be kinda fun. We might as well enjoy the necessary.”

Becky commented, “I didn’t see the other bedroom.”

Fran responded, “That’s because our home has only one bedroom.”

“Wait, let me get this right. You have to sleep together?”

Fran was on a roll. “Yes, Becky. It’s like saying that we have to get along with each other because we live together.”

Jill joined the conversation, “I could never share a bed with anybody. Do you like sleeping together? Do you sometimes push each out of bed?”

I just had to answer, “Hasn’t happened yet. Mostly we snuggle in the middle of the bed. We miss our mom. She would sometimes snuggle with us in bed. We snuggle together in bed to comfort each other. It’s one way we honor the mom we so dearly miss.

“Z, are you the mom and Fran has to do what you say.”

Fran answered better than I could, “We cooperate. We have to. Ultimately if we disagree, Mrs. Roberts from CPS will have to get involved. We do not want that. And that makes us want to cooperate. Becky, when you and your brother want the same thing I bet you two find a way to share without your parents having to tell you how to share. We really do not want to live with some adult assigned to us by CPS.

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