Free Til the Real Thing Comes Along by Iris Rainer Dart

have
     a big brother. What do
you
think?”
    Jeffie shrugged and didn’t look up. R.J. could tell that he was afraid. Afraid that if he said the wrong thing they might
     not give him a big brother at all.
    “Guess so,” he answered.
    “You know that big brothers come in all shapes and sizes and types,” Anne said gently. “Like that man Abe who just left here.
     He’s a big brother.” Jeffie’s lower lip protruded a bit at that and R.J. knew it was because That Man Abe was not what he
     had in mind.
    “So just for the sake of imagination let me ask you this. If you could create him,” Anne said, “make him anything you wanted,
     how would you like your big brother to be?”
    Jeffie shrugged, and still wouldn’t look up. R.J. wanted to rush over and hug him, but her eyes met Anne’s and she sat very
     still.
    “Good athlete,” he said softly. Arthur had been a wonderful athlete. “Likes video games. Fun. You know.” Now he looked up.
    “I do know,” Anne said, “and I’m going to try to find you one. Right now there are lots more boys who need big brothers than
     there are big brothers. But I’ll see what I can do.”
    She asked him questions about school. What classes he liked and disliked. His friends. When he seemed to begin to warm up
     to her, to relax, R.J. relaxed, too, and thought about Arthur. For months after he died she had continued to feel his presence
     in the house. She would be cooking or reading, when suddenly, from nowhere, she would be certain that she’d caught sight of
     him just out of the farthest corner of her eye. But when she turned, of course, he was gone.
    “Arthur,” she had said aloud one day, feeling foolish but eerily as though he were really around. “Don’t rush away. I could
     use your advice about so many things. Like how to handle your father, and what to do about a medical insurance policy for
     Manuela, and whether or not I should sell the house to pay off all the debts from the business.” That particular morning it
     was chilly outside, the chill thatcomes right after a rain, and she had stood in her living room hugging herself to keep warm, looking out at the view of the
     hills. “Arthur, it’s hard not having anyone to talk to. No one to share all the questions I have about Jeffie. I mean, sometimes
     I wonder if I’m doing a good job with him and I wish that…” Then she sighed. This was bananas. Over the edge. Probably her
     cousin Mimi’s husband the psychiatrist would tell her it was something every widow goes through. She should go and turn up
     the heat and sit for a while and read. Arthur was murdered. Dead. Gone. And she was left. Left to make the decisions about
     his father and medical insurance and the house alone. That was just how it was. And as far as whether or not she was doing
     a good job where Jeffie was concerned, no one else could tell her that. She would just have to continue to do her best and
     hope it was enough. Then, just as she had been about to turn away from the window, right above the houses on stilts that jutted
     out on a nearby hillside, there appeared the beautiful arc of a rainbow. R.J. had looked at it for a moment and then smiled.
     She was sure it was her answer. From Arthur.
    “Thanks, Art,” she had said. “I miss you so much. Thanks for stopping by.”
    Now, Anne the social worker was summarizing.
    “Your big brother won’t ever really replace your dad, or make you not miss him, but he can be a great friend to you, so that’s
     what we’ll try for. Okay?”
    Jeffie nodded.
    “Remember, too, that it may take a long time for us to find the right match for you,” Anne warned. “But when we do, it’ll
     be worth it.”
    They all got to their feet.
    “I’ll be on the lookout for a nice warm man who will come over and take you out once a month, and you can talk things over
     with him, and call him if you need a friend at any time, and know that he’s reliable and there for you.”
    Jeffie nodded, and