“He’s not my son. He’s a foster kid.” She said it like he was a stray dog she’d reluctantly taken in. “Lucas, get in the car. We need to go.”
“Ma’am, Lucas was telling me he wants to see the ocean.”
Lucas stood up slowly. He was so weak. So fragile. He folded his cardboard sign carefully, like it was precious.
Something in me broke.
“What if I took him?”
The woman stopped. Turned. “What?”
“What if I took Lucas to see the ocean? I’ll pay for everything. I just need your permission.”
She stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “You want to take a dying foster kid to the beach? Why?”
I didn’t have a good answer. Didn’t have any answer except that this little boy wanted to see the ocean and the universe had put him directly in my path.
“Because he asked,” I said simply. “Because he deserves to see it. Because someone should care enough to make it happen.”
“I’m not kidnapping anyone. I want to do this legally. Through the proper channels.”
She laughed again. “Good luck with that. The system doesn’t let random bikers take foster kids on trips. But hey, knock yourself out.”
She got in her car. Lucas watched her drive away. He didn’t cry. Didn’t react at all. Like he was used to being abandoned.
“She left you here,” I said, stunned.Continue reading…
