Please Choose Me

Jeremy sat in the shadows at the top of the winding staircase. From this vantage-point he could watch the front door on the first floor. He sat with his forehead pressed against the stair rails. She was supposed to be here any minute.

The front door opened, letting sunshine into the massive foyer. Her heels clicked on the tile floor as she crossed the foyer to the administrative offices. Jeremy pulled back further into the shadows, not wanting her to see him staring. His stomach fluttered as he considered the possibility of adoption. Could she be the one?

He saw her name on the visitor's clipboard this morning. Mariana. She was interested in adopting a boy between the ages of five and ten. Jeremy was eight. There were two other boys in the orphanage between those ages. Jeremy prayed Mariana would choose him. He was tired of living in the orphanage. The other boys were brothers so unless Mariana wanted to adopt two children, Jeremy was the obvious choice.

He looked at her as she walked across the foyer. She was younger than he expected. Most of the women who came into the orphanage were older, in their early forties. Mariana didn't look forty. She had long, black hair that covered her bright pink shirt. The vibrant shirt made her skin glow. She was wearing a black skirt and pink heels to match her shirt. Jeremy figured if she could match her shoes to her shirt, she must be able to afford a small boy.

He was small for his age, barely over three feet. The other boys in the orphanage gave him a hard time, calling him a squirt. He might be small, but he was fast. He loved to run around the yard and hardly any of the other kids could catch him unless he let them. Being small could be an advantage. Jeremy knew that people wanted to adopt the younger children. Hardly anyone came to adopt the older kids. Babies came and went quickly, but the older ones lingered.

Jeremy had lived in the orphanage for three years. Some of the other kids had been there even longer. Jeremy knew each day made it less likely that he would find a permanent home. He lived with several foster families over the years until this orphanage had an opening. He knew the orphanage tried to make the boys feel at home, but it wasn't the same as living with a real family. As Mariana opened the door to the administrative office, he prayed she would want him.

He slipped down the stairs, his hand trailing down the wooden banister, after checking to make sure nobody was watching. It was mid-afternoon and most of the kids were outside playing. Jeremy knew if they caught him, they would give him a hard time. Many people came into the orphanage inquiring about adoption, but few actually followed through. After many disappointments, most of the kids gave up. They hardened themselves against the pain of rejection. Jeremy hadn't been able to do this. He wanted a family.

He tiptoed to the door of the office, stepping on every other tile to avoid stepping on the white tiles, and peered in through the frosted glass window. He could see Mariana standing at the desk, talking to Tiffany, the receptionist. He couldn't hear what they were saying. Probably nothing important. Mrs. Swift handled all of the adoptions. Just then, Jeremy heard someone coming down the hallway. He jumped behind the huge palm next to the door, used many times over the years by children as a hiding place. Jeremy held his breath until Mrs. Swift passed the plant and entered the office, the scent of her flowery perfume trailing behind.

Jeremy sat on the cool tile floor waiting for Mariana to come out of the office. He was afraid to move in case she came out quickly. He knew the chances were slim that she would want to adopt him, but she wanted a boy and he was the right age. He did well in school and rarely caused trouble. Sure, he got into a few scrapes, what boy didn't? The last time he was caught, he had to clean the bathroom. It wasn't fun. Usually the custodian cleaned the toilets, and he was happy to have help. Jeremy wondered if Mrs. Swift would tell Mariana that he knew how to clean. Surely that would be a good thing.

Jeremy wasn't sure Mrs. Swift would tell Mariana all the important things about him. She didn't know that he liked to paint or that he was able to recite the alphabet backward. She didn't know his love of nature, especially worms. He started to panic. What if she didn't tell Mariana the things that mattered? He wouldn't get a home! Jeremy bolted out from behind the palm tree and burst into the office. Tiffany looked up in surprise as he dashed past her desk and into the office of the head administrator.

Jeremy came to a halt inside the door to Mrs. Swift's office, stuttering about his love of animals. Mrs. Swift looked up in surprise. Jeremy was one of the best-behaved boys in the orphanage. She didn't expect him to come into her office unannounced and uninvited. Mariana turned in her seat to see the source of the commotion. It was a small boy with a very red face. Tiffany stood behind him in the doorway, mouth gaping.

"May I help you?" Mrs. Swift asked Jeremy.

"Umm, well..." Jeremy shuffled, looking at his shoes.

Mariana sensed the boy had something to say. She was amused by his energy and obvious discomfort at the position he found himself in at the moment. She put out her hand in his direction, "Hi. I'm Mariana."

Jeremy shook her hand. It was cool and dry in contrast to his warm, sweaty palms. "Hello ma'am. I just wanted to make sure you knew that I could clean and I like animals. I didn't know if Mrs. Swift would tell you," he mumbled, looking once again at his worn tennis shoes.

Mariana smiled. "That was very thoughtful of you. Those are both very important things to know."

Mrs. Swift gave Jeremy a stern look, "Now that you've shared that information, I think it's time for you to wait in the reception area with Tiffany. I'll call you in if we need to know anything else."

Jeremy nodded and left the room. Tiffany closed the door behind him and he could hear the women talking inside. Before he took his seat, he heard Mariana say he was an exuberant boy. He hoped that was a good thing. He sat back, legs dangling from the orange armchair, knowing he had done everything possible.