Memphis

Lorali paced her living room, waiting for them to arrive. She and her husband had received a call early in the morning, but they had yet to give her much information. She hoped to get more once the social worker arrived. She hurriedly scrubbed out the coffee pot, more for something to do than for coffee so late. Her door bed rang as she was poised to pour in the coffee grounds. Pouring the grounds in quickly, she napped the lid shut and flipped the switch to start it brewing. Wiping her hands on the sides of her jeans, she moved toward the door and opened it.

“Hello,” She said, letting the two men inside; one was her husband, Rodger, and the other was the social worker.

The social worker was a scrawny fellow with spectacles too large for his eyes and a nose and ears too large for his face. He almost looked comically mouse-like, but Lorali couldn't have cared less how the man looked, her dark eyes narrowed to glimpse a bundle hidden beneath the man’s coat jacket.

“I’m Mr. Peter,” He said, extending his hand, “This is the baby designated as 231101, but we’ve just been calling her Sweetie.”

“Why has she come to us so quickly? Is there something wrong? Is she in danger?” Lorali could already feel maternal instincts flaring up to protect the child she had yet to glimpse.

“After I pass her to you, all danger should resolve.” Mr. Peter reassured them.

“Surely you can give us more information than that if you expect us to bring her into our home.” Lorali’s husband was as blunt as ever.

”I really can’t; her situation is as delicate as it is horrible.” Mr. Peter cringed, “But I can say with one hundred percent confidence that you and your family are not in danger.”

“Can I hold her?” Lorali asked, moving toward Mr. Peter with her arms outstretched to receive the baby.

Mr. Peter nodded and handed a thick bundle of nursing blankets over to Lorali. He also dropped two bags of diapers and formula at her feet, “Gifts from the agency.” He muttered.

Lorali and her husband sat down at their kitchen table; Lorali cooed over the baby while her husband stared at Mr. Peter as if there were a catch. Mr. Peter sat across from them and produced a packet of documents from the inside of his coat, but before he opened it and began to talk shop, he eyed the now full coffee pot.

“Please, help yourself,” Lorali’s husband stated as he got up and poured himself a mug. Usually, Lorali would have reprimanded her husband for such uncouth behavior, but given her preoccupation with the baby girl in her arms, she let it slide.

Pouring himself a mug, Mr. Peter returned to sit across from them and took a deep sip from what must have been scalding coffee. It did its job to push the sleep from the man’s eyes. As he sat preparing documents, he seemed older to Lorali’s husband than the man who climbed three sets of—stairs with him.

Alright, friends, here are all the papers you must sign to take custody of 231101. I just need you to sign a few things, and I will be on my way. Along with these legal documents adopting her, I need a signature confirming that you will raise 231101 as your own.”

”But what if she gets older and has questions? We don’t want to deny her if she someday wants to seek out her birth parents.” Lorali questioned, holding the baby’s hand.

“She no longer has birth parents. You are her birth parents.” Mr. Peter muttered, passing them a pair of pens.

“None of us know what the future will hold; what do we do if things get out of hand?” Rodger frowned.

If, at any time, you feel the child’s safety is in question, you are to call me at my direct number.” Mr. Peter handed them a business card with his phone number, “We will handle whatever security breach it may be.”

The two soon-to-be parents were unsure of anything except that this child was their daughter. So, they sign the paperwork and decide on a name while the worker enters it into a database on his phone. Then, the back of the machine prints out a receipt of all the information until the girl’s birth certificate and other documentation can come. They chose a new name for the girl and a birthdate that would only match her birth date by a year. They gave her a social security number and a serial number for her birth certificate.

“Well, Mrs. Lorali and Mr. Rodger, we wish you all the luck on your new foray into parenthood.” He said, sweeping into a low bow before walking to the door.

“Is that it?” Lorali questioned.

“That’s it,” Mr. Peter beamed, “Unless the two of you want more paperwork.”

The pair shook their heads as they watched the man leave their apartment and pull out of their driveway. Closing the door, Peter and Lorali looked at the new blessing in their arms and wondered what the future held. They were determined to be the best parents for the precious girl that was now theirs. Their little sweetie they named Memphis.