Straighter than Parallel Parking

≈ t h i r t y - s e v e n ≈

"I bet you believed that so much you lost your job."

Maria narrows her eyes, mumbling, "Where are my heels?"

"Okay, okay!" her brother puts his hands up in defeat. His empty teacup sits on the table as they bicker back and forth. "What happened?"

Slumping against the checkered cloth, Maria groans. "I forgot that you have to be patient with these cases and when I lose my head, you know I tend to get a little... wild."

"A nice euphemism for crazy bitc—"

"Anyways," she interrupts, throwing him a dirty look, "there was this guy who kept denying that there was any problem and wouldn't let me in through his door. Some girl who was being fostered there had called 911 a couple times but the police never found anything conclusive and couldn't hold him in. But when I got there..." Maria pauses, clenching her teeth so tightly that the muscles in her cheeks become taut. Marcus nods his head as if to say it's okay. Taking in a deep breath, she continues, "... I saw her getting beat down by her supposed father. And Marcus, I mean thrown into a wall, a lamp in his hand... I called 911 and I tried breaking them apart but then he threw a punch at me and, well, the rest is history."

"... you punched out an abusive douchebag and you're the one who gets sacked?"

Maria winces. "I didn't, uh, just punch him."

"Ah. Violence," Marcus says drily, "while never the answer, is something I can't blame you for. Who pressed the charges?"

"The mother, claiming I was inflicting wounds onto someone too excessively. They said I had to either write an apology note or they'd fire me. I wrote a Get Well Soon card to the daughter."

"And the foster parents?"

"A cussing colouring book to let him know that I sincerely hope he uses when he's back in his hospital bed if he even steps five feet in front of his daughter."

"Nice," Marcus grins, raising his hand for a high five.

Maria gives him a look, staring at it until he gradually puts it down.

"I mean, I don't regret it or anything," Maria says, pulling at her hair, twirling a stray curl around a finger and tugging as she struggles to put her thoughts into words. "I'm just mad that families can be so... delusional. I love my children with so much that the idea of anyone hurting them..."

"I know what you mean," Marcus agrees, his mouth thinning. "I've never told Janice, but I know she's always been curious about how her biological family was like, so I went a few times to her adoption agency. But some of the stories I heard..." Marcus shook his head. "I'm so grateful I took my baby girl home from that broken system."

"I've got an interview soon," she says, surprising him again. The idea of her in the house was so consistent over the past months that his sister leaving left an awkward impression. "Shawn has been suffocated with taking his own business deals considering the commutes too difficult, and while I like my two monkeys, I was never meant to be a housewife. Apparently, a lot of social workers can get too emotionally invested in cases so I was put on the waiting list for a place nearby..."

"How far?"

"Around a good one hour south, Maple Heights..." Maria rubs her neck sheepishly. "For all the crap I gave Janice, I'm going to miss her cooking."

"I bet she won't say the same about your nagging," Marcus teases, but his joke falls flat. "Seems like time keeps changing but all the problems we have are stagnant."

Maria frowns, understanding his train of thought. Without Maria around, Marcus was going to be facing the barrage of their parents' prejudice with a higher intensity, especially because they promised for more "in-home visits" (aka another way to say, "surveillance of your white adoptee").