Van said, “Yeah, Matt, I really thought it was all better, boy was I wrong.”

It was the next day, and Van and I were sitting in my Toyota sneaking a smoke before school started.
Van continued, “We were just warming up to each other when the cops called us back in, said they wanted to talk to Gail alone, but she rebelled, said I had to be in there too.”

“She’s a tough girl,” I offered.

“Yeah, well anyway, they took us into an office. There were two cops and a gray haired lady. They introduced her as Mrs. Winsail, said she was from Child Welfare.” Van flipped his cigarette out the window. “They told Gail that with her dad in jail, and her under the age of 18, she was gonna have to go into foster care. Unless, she had a relative that could take her in.”
I doused my cigarette in the ash tray. “And?” I asked.
“She has an aunt.” Van said.
“Well that’s good, isn’t it?”
“Her aunt lives in Utah. That’s eight hundred miles from here.”
I looked away to avoid seeing the tears streaming down his cheeks.