Chapter Text
The first goal of any foster placement is always reunification.
Frank had been hearing that for the last decade.
He was getting pretty sick of it.
Frank
They were in the back seat of Gloria’s car, backpacks on their laps and the entirety of their worldly possessions crammed into one plastic tote in the trunk. The last time they had moved to a new home, Frank had held Trinity’s hand to reassure her. This time, she was shut off from the world, hands clasped tightly in her lap. He still offered, his hand sitting casually on the middle console between them, but she was resolutely staring out the window as Gloria rambled on. “I think this will be great for you two. They’re both doctors. I’ve known them for a long time and they’re good people. And you’ll be able to stay in the same school, and keep your tutoring job.”
Frank hummed noncommittally.
“And Trinity, you won’t have any of the issues that you had with the Walkers or the Cunninghams. This couple…Jack and Michael. They’re, well, obviously, they’re gay.” Frank looked over and saw Trinity’s eyebrows shoot up. Gay foster parents. That was…new.
Their last foster parents, the Walkers, had seemed nice enough at first, but they dragged Frank and Trinity to church every Sunday, and Trin had gotten herself added to the church prayer list when the Walkers found a flyer for her middle school’s GSA tucked inside a textbook. The truth had come out, and last night, when the Walkers had announced that they had arranged for personal one-on-one counseling with their priest, Trinity had run away.
Frank had been startled awake around 3 AM (from a nightmare, but he wasn’t going to tell anyone that) and found his sister’s bed empty. He had woken up the Walkers and bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited helplessly for them to get out of bed, get dressed, and get in the car. They drove around the streets, checked the school, called the local hospital…and didn’t find her anywhere.
Sometimes Frank wondered if his twelve-year-old half-sister did things like this to punish him. He was worried sick, and furious that no one was doing anything to find her. They hadn’t even been looking for half an hour when the Walkers gave up. They gave up. “She’ll come back in the morning when she’s hungry,” Mrs. Walker said on her way back to bed. “Don’t worry too much about her, sweetie, try to get some sleep.”
As much as they hated the idea of Queer Trinity, they loved Golden Boy Frank, their sweetie, their illustrious foster child that got straight A’s and was so polite and respectful. He didn’t misbehave often, because he saved it for the moments when it was needed. Like this one.
Thirty minutes later, Frank had snuck Mrs. Walker’s cell phone off her bedside table and called 9-1-1, and then Gloria, starting a full-scale task force to find the one person he would burn the world down for. By the time Gloria arrived, the Walkers had been roused from bed by the cops, they were staring daggers at Frank, and he knew that this placement was toast. Gloria wasn’t the coziest, friendliest social worker Frank had ever been assigned, but she was far from the worst. She did her job, and nothing more, and he respected that. “Frank,” she greeted him curtly. “What happened?”
He told her the story, Gloria had listened, and by the time the sun was coming up, the police had found Trinity in a park an hour away and brought her home unharmed. Gloria had stayed while he and Trinity packed up their things, and then…well, then it was now, in the car, on the way to the emergency placement with the gay foster dads.
The house they stopped at was nice, but not overly fancy, and he could see a pride flag flying on the front porch. Frank and Trinity hoisted their backpacks onto their shoulders and climbed out, and Gloria grabbed the scuffed plastic bin from the trunk, full of their clothes and books and memories. Frank would have taken it from her, except that his back was aching today, tweaked from not sleeping and from squishing his tall frame into the backseat of her tiny car. Aching was maybe an understatement. Twinging. Burning. Vibrating like a guitar string. He distracted himself by looking at his little sister, lightly bumping his knee into her to get her to look back at him. She quirked an eyebrow, and he smiled reassuringly.
The door swung open, two men greeting them with wide smiles. “Hey Gloria, good to see you again. Let me take that, I’ll just bring it right inside. And you two must be Frank and Trinity. I’m Michael, but everyone calls me Robby. It’s really nice to meet you.” He was a friendly one, this Robby. Chipper. “And this is my husband, Jack. Come in, come in! Are you guys hungry? Thirsty? Can I get anyone some water?”
They were shepherded onto the couch in the living room. “Sounds like you two had a busy morning,” Jack said, sinking into an armchair across from them. “We’re happy you’re here.”
Gloria eyed Frank, and he knew what came next. “Uh, hi. I’m Frank, I’m sixteen. I’m a junior. Um, I have a job tutoring after school sometimes.” He nudged his sister.
“I’m Trinity, I’m twelve. 7th grade.”
Well, that was better than nothing. Frank sighed. “We’re half-siblings. Our mom’s in prison. She flipped her car going 90 on the turnpike because she was coked out of her mind. But she’s fine.” People always asked.
He saw Robby and Jack glance at each other, and Gloria tensed. “Frank was in the car,” she added. Trinity pressed closer to him. “And has some lingering health problems that he continues to see doctors for.”
Robby nodded. “That’s not a problem, Frank. I don’t know if Gloria told you, but Jack and I are doctors over at PTMC. We’re pretty used to hospitals and doctors’ visits.”
These conversations were always awkward, a mix of side-stepping some topics and addressing others with the sensitivity of a bulldozer. Gloria continued. “And Trinity has some issues with PTSD and is in weekly therapy sessions, and takes an anti-anxiety medication.”
“You two have been through the wringer,” Jack said gruffly. Frank didn’t know how to respond.
They covered all the boring stuff—visitation with their mom, upcoming appointments, school schedules—and Frank was trying to stay present, but was failing miserably. His eyes kept flicking around the room, trying to discern what kind of home this would be. They weren’t obsessively neat people, there were shoes piled at the door and a sweatshirt almost falling off the back of the couch, but it was tidy enough. There was one scraggly potted plant in the corner, hopefully not a sign of their nurturing tendencies. But then he spotted crutches by the door and felt his stomach clench. Were those for him? Did Gloria tell them he was a cripple that couldn’t walk a year ago?
Jack must have noticed Frank’s gaze, because he cleared his throat. “Those are for me, kid. I used to be 6’9” but now I’m a foot shorter.” He pulled his pant leg up and Frank’s cheeks blazed in embarrassment when he saw the prosthesis.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume, or…”
“Don’t sweat it. Happens a lot.”
The adults all stood up, moving towards the door. Gloria paused. “Frank and Trinity, do you two have any questions for me before I go?” They shook their heads. “Then I’m only a phone call away. I’ll check in tomorrow to see how things are going.”
Being left with strangers was, on the whole, not a great feeling, even though Jack and Robby seemed nice enough. “You two feel up for a little tour?” Robby asked.
“Sure.”
Jack moved toward the kitchen. “I’ll stay down here and make some lunch. Any food allergies we should know about?”
“Avocado,” Trinity piped up. “Frank breaks out in hives.”
“I do,” he confirmed.
“You got an EpiPen?”
“It’s only hives.”
Jack looked unconvinced. “We can talk about that later. We have EpiPens in our first aid kit if something does happen.”
“First aid kit!” Robby repeated enthusiastically, pointing to a kitchen cabinet. “Here! Pantry, here! Totally open to you two; eat whatever you want whenever you want. Feel free to take some snacks to your bedroom, just toss things in the kitchen garbage down here so we don’t get bugs.”
Robby led them through the rest of the downstairs, even let them peek in the primary bedroom, before he took them upstairs. “Do you guys prefer to share a bedroom or have separate rooms?”
“Share,” Trinity said.
“Separate,” Frank said at the same time. He glanced down at his sister, who was looking up at him in disbelief. “Shared,” he amended.
Robby nodded. “The room at the end of the hall has bunk beds. This one is an option if you decide the shared room thing isn’t working, and this door is our son’s room. John just started college last month. Here, this is him.” Robby pointed to a picture on the wall of a young Asian man in graduation robes.
“Was he a foster kid too?” Frank asked.
“He was; we adopted him about six years ago. He’ll still be home for school breaks and holidays, of course, but he lives at school—Michigan. Pre-med.” And damn, if Robby didn’t sound exactly like the proud father Frank sometimes dreamed of at night. “Okay, this will be your room. That door is the closet, and this door is your own bathroom. There’s period products under the sink, just let us know if you need more or if we don’t have what you like, or if you have any questions.” Trinity blushed furiously. Frank thanked his lucky stars he wasn’t a girl. “There’s some other comforters and throw pillows in the closet, so you can kind of make this room your own. Feel free to hang up posters or pictures or whatever.”
Trinity had stepped hesitantly towards a dresser on the other side of the room. “Are those…?”
“Cell phones. You guys are old enough to have your own, especially since you’ll be walking to school and spending some time home alone. We have some guidelines for using them responsibly, and there are some parental content controls set up, but as long as there’s no problems, they’re yours to use as you please.”
“Holy shit,” Trinity whispered, running her fingers over the new phone. Frank elbowed her. “I mean, uh…holy…wow. This is crazy.” He elbowed her again. “Thank you!” She finally said.
“Thank you,” Frank echoed. “This is so cool.”
“I mean, geez, five-year-olds have cell phones these days,” Robby said nonchalantly. “Every other kid we see in the ER is glued to a tablet or something. Anyways, Jack and I’s numbers are in there, and Gloria’s. Just text us so we know who gets which number.”
The phone was heavy in his hand. It felt…long-term. They wouldn’t give the kids cell phones if they were only going to be here for a few days, right? But Frank didn’t want to ask…didn’t really want to know, if it was going to be taken away in a few days.
Robby looked at the two quiet kids. “Uh, let me run downstairs and get your things.”
The second he left, Trinity turned to Frank with wide eyes. “Holy shit,” she said again, holding the phone like it was a bar of gold.
“You do not drop this,” he said immediately. “You do not lose it. You do not break it. You don’t let anyone borrow it, or do anything stupid with it. These are enormously expensive.”
“I’m not an idiot, dickwad.” She fell backwards into a bean bag chair in the corner.
Frank stared at the phone in his own hands, sleek and black. He texted the three contacts, Frank. Instantly, Robby hearted it. The Trinity message came through, hearted too, and Frank saved the number. He dug in his backpack for a post-it note of another number, and saved it as Abby <3.
“You want top bunk?” Frank offered casually.
Trin snorted. “Yeah, like you could even get up there.”
Frank laughed for Trinity’s sake, but didn’t like how much the comment stung. His back was throbbing at this point, a spot a couple inches left of his spine that always caused trouble. Robby lugged their beat-up plastic tote into the room and set it near the closet. “Alright, Jack has the sandwich bar all set up, so if you guys are hungry you can come downstairs and eat. Otherwise, we’ll give you some time to settle in, and sandwich ingredients are all in the fridge if you get hungry. We don’t have any plans for the rest of the day. Again, nowhere is off-limits, you can hang out wherever you want. Anything you need before I go?”
“Frank is supposed to get an award at school tonight,” Trinity announced.
Frank groaned. “It’s just for the honor roll, nothing special. Just a stupid ceremony, I was going to skip it anyways.”
“He’s getting a community service award too.”
Trinity, geez. “Yeah, for being a foster kid that is a decent person. Doing the bare minimum.”
“Do you want to go?” Robby was staring at him like he was trying to figure something out.
Trinity rolled her eyes. “He’s been talking about it all week.”
“I have not.”
“The last fosters usually took us out to dinner afterwards,” She explained, and okay, maybe Frank had been talking about going out to dinner all week.
“Jack and I would love to attend and take you two out for dinner afterwards,” Robby said firmly. “If that’s what you want.”
Trin was looking hopefully at Frank, who gave in. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Great. Start thinking of where you want to go.”
Frank’s heart started beating faster as Robby turned to leave. “Uh,” he stuttered. “Do you have like…ice? And a Ziploc bag? For my back.”
Robby didn’t balk. He must have been some kind of professional foster parent, or else he’s seen some shit. “We have some reusable ice packs. Do you need any painkillers?”
“No, I have some Tylenol in my backpack.”
“Do you have a heating pad?”
“Ice is better.”
“Okay, I can grab you the ice pack. Eventually, I’d like to talk more about what happened and what symptoms you’re still having to see if we can help, does that sound okay?”
Frank was…touched? Embarrassed? “Just not today,” he said finally.
“Of course. Trinity, the same goes for you. We’d just like to understand what’s going on with you two so we can support you and advocate for you.” Trinity nodded slowly, and Robby smiled comfortingly. “I’ll be right back with that ice pack.”
Trinity sat down on the bed next to Frank, trying not to jostle him. “Your back hurts?”
“Well, someone decided to run away and I didn’t get a good night’s sleep.” It came out sharper than he intended, and his sister flinched. “Sorry Trin, I didn’t mean it like that. I just…could have done without the 3 AM panic.”
“I thought you wouldn’t notice until you woke up.”
“Why’d you run? Why didn’t you…I don’t know, tell me? So I could come?”
“I didn’t want you to get in trouble,” she murmured. “But running is the only way I could think of to get Gloria involved. The Walkers weren’t about to let us call her.”
“I had a plan. Abby’s got Gloria’s number saved in her phone, so I was going to call her as soon as I got to school today.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
There was a gentle knock on the door frame as Jack stepped in. “Brought that ice pack. This one’s my favorite for when the stump’s actin’ up, but you need a towel between that and your skin so it doesn’t get too cold. It’ll stay colder longer than you need it, so set a timer on that fancy phone or somethin’ for like 15 minutes, otherwise you’re riskin’ skin damage.” He wrapped the ice pack in the towel and handed it to Frank, pausing for a second to watch him gingerly lie down. “You want me to make you a sandwich and bring it up?”
“Not really hungry.”
“I get that. Sometimes when it hurts a lot, you just lose your appetite.”
“Yeah.” Frank hadn’t met anyone else that understood his pain as immediately as Jack did. “Uh…can I ask…your leg…it hurts sometimes?”
Jack looked at him with a piercing gaze that felt cold and distant at first, but then relaxed. “Yes.” It wasn’t much of an answer, but it wasn’t a lie. Jack looked at Trinity. “How about you, kid? You want room service? Sandwich a la Jack?”
Frank could swear he saw her crack a smile, but she smothered it quickly. “Maybe later.”
“I’ll leave the fixins’ out for a little while.”
Trinity watched Jack leave, then turned back to her new phone, still enchanted by it. “What do you think happened to him?”
“I don’t know, but don’t ask, that’s rude.” The ice pack was working its magic already, soothing some of the burning nerve pain, but he was itching for a Tylenol…or at least, one of the pills he kept in the Tylenol bottle in his backpack. If it wasn’t exactly Tylenol…well, no one needed to know that but him. He fished around in his backpack and wrapped his fingers around the small bottle. “Why don’t you start unpacking. See if you can find my black pants, for the thing tonight.”
He waited until she ducked into the bathroom to fish a pill out of the Tylenol container and wash it down with a swig from his water bottle. He briefly closed his eyes as he felt his back muscles relax, almost reflexively, then felt a wad of fabric hit his face. “Your jeans, idiot.”
“Thanks, creep. Hey, you doing okay?”
“Better than you.”
Frank rolled his eyes. “You should get a sandwich, you haven’t eaten all day.”
Her eyes darted nervously to the stairs. “Maybe when you’re done icing your back. I can wait.” Trinity was a tough kid, and had gone through a lot, but it made her moments of vulnerability even more obvious.
“Give me ten minutes,” he replied softly. Trinity wandered around the room, examining everything as she went. It was pretty sparse, but not in a bad way, just in a needs-some-personality way. She moved their plastic bin in front of the only vent in the room and started pulling out her clothes to put them in the dresser. “Just leave some space for the air to escape,” Frank said drowsily, letting his eyes flutter shut. He was tired as shit…Oxycodone always took it out of him.