Arthur led me through a quieter hallway.
The farther we went, the less the house felt like a place meant for visitors.
There were framed photographs on the walls, a narrow table with a bowl of keys, and a small pair of shoes near a doorway.
I noticed the shoes because they were so much smaller than mine.
One was turned on its side.
I wondered whether the boy had taken them off himself or whether someone had removed them in a hurry.
Arthur stopped outside a door.
"He's inside."
I waited.
Arthur knocked gently before opening it.
The room was large enough for a child to play in comfortably, but it wasn't crowded with toys.
There was a bed, a low bookshelf, a small table, and a few things arranged neatly near the window.
A boy sat on the floor.
He was four years old, as the advertisement had said.
He had a toy in his hands and was turning it over without much interest.
When the door opened, he looked up.
Then he looked at Arthur.
He didn't smile.
He didn't run toward us.
He simply watched.
I had cared for Toby when he was that age, and I knew that children could be shy around strangers.
But this boy seemed unusually quiet.
I didn't assume I knew why.
Children had their own ways of responding to the world, and I had only just met him.
Arthur stepped into the room.
"Hello, young man."
The boy lowered his eyes to the toy.
I remained near the doorway.
I didn't want to rush toward him or make him feel that he had to interact with me.
Arthur turned slightly.
"Miss Miller has come to meet you."
The boy glanced at me.
I gave him a small smile.
"Hello."
He didn't answer.
I didn't ask him to.
I looked around the room, noticing the details without trying to make them mean more than they did.
A blanket lay folded at the foot of the bed.
Several books were stacked on the shelf, their covers worn from use.
A cup sat on the little table.
Everything seemed orderly, but there was something about the quiet that made me careful with my movements.
I stepped inside slowly and lowered myself onto a chair near the wall.
I wanted to be at his level without crowding him.
"What are you playing with?" I asked.
He looked down at the toy.
"A car," he said.
His voice was small.
I nodded.
"That's a nice one."
He turned it over again.
I could see that one of its wheels was loose.
I thought about offering to fix it, but I didn't want to take it from him.
Instead, I stayed where I was.
Arthur watched us for a moment.
Then he excused himself, saying he would return shortly.
The door closed softly behind him.
The boy and I were alone.
I had expected to feel nervous about meeting the family.
Instead, I felt the familiar uncertainty of trying to understand what a child needed from an unfamiliar adult.
I knew better than to demand affection.
I knew better than to fill every silence with questions.
So I sat quietly.
After a while, the boy pushed the car across the floor.
It stopped near my shoe.
I looked at him.
"Would you like me to send it back?"
He nodded.
I picked it up carefully and rolled it toward him.
He caught it with both hands.
Then he pushed it toward me again.
We did that several times.
It was a simple game.
There were no rules to explain and no need for conversation.
I was grateful for that.
After a while, he asked me a question.
"Are you staying here?"
I paused.
I didn't want to promise something I couldn't guarantee.
"I don't know yet," I said. "I'm here to meet you and the people who take care of you."
He considered that.
Then he looked at the car again.
I wondered whether he had been told that someone might come.
I wondered whether other adults had sat in that chair before me.
I couldn't know.
I also knew that my own desperation could make me interpret every small gesture as a sign that I was needed.
I didn't want to do that to him.
He deserved someone who saw him as a child, not as an answer to another person's loneliness.
I stayed until Arthur returned.
The boy had moved to the small table and was examining a picture book.
When Arthur entered, he glanced up but didn't speak.
"Thank you," Arthur said to me.
I stood.
The boy looked at the car in his hands.
I hesitated before leaving.
"Goodbye for now," I told him.
He didn't answer, but he looked at me long enough that I felt he had heard.
I followed Arthur out.
He closed the door gently behind us.
"What did you think?" he asked.
I considered the question.
"He seems quiet."
"Yes."
"I don't want to assume I understand him after a few minutes."
Arthur nodded.
"That is wise."
I looked back at the closed door.
"Does he know why I'm here?"
"He's been told that we're looking for someone who can help care for him."
I nodded.
I was glad the family hadn't made promises on my behalf.
Arthur continued down the hall, and I followed.
We returned to the room where we had spoken earlier.
My suitcase had been brought in and placed near the wall.
I looked at it, then at the chair.
The bag seemed even more worn against the clean floor.
Arthur noticed my glance.
"Your belongings can be taken to the room assigned for your use if the arrangement proceeds."
I looked at him.
"If?"
"We have not yet completed our discussion."
I understood.
Meeting the child didn't mean I had been hired.
Being given a room didn't mean I had a future there.
I had to be willing to accept that.
Still, the thought of a bed and a dry place to put my suitcase made it difficult not to hope.
Arthur sat down again.
"There are a few matters concerning the position that we should settle before you make a decision."
I took the chair opposite him.
"All right."
He opened the folder once more.
I folded my hands and waited.
For the first time that morning, I felt that I could listen without thinking about the rain, the cold, or the next place I would have to find shelter.
I was in a warm room.
My suitcase was beside me.
And a little boy had rolled a toy car toward me without being asked.
It wasn't much.
But it was real.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: The Offer Included Everything I Had Been Searching for Since Midnight, but I Needed to Know What It Would Ask of Me in Return
My Husband Asked Me to Sign Two Papers, and Before Midnight I Had Lost My Marriage, My Home, and Almost Everything I Owned
Part 7 of 12
