Ailana’s Journal—2026-05-19 (Patreon)

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GOOD MORNING

Today’s the day we do the afternoon photo session for Naomi. As she said, three dresses, three models, and a couple of hours in front of the camera after getting out of the makeup chair.

That last prepositional phrase has me worried. This must be something that is, as I said, different from “wear this and smile.”

The shot list doesn’t give anything away, and we’ve not received the dresses yet. So, shortly after I know, you’ll know, too!

I want to give you a heads up for tonight. After the photo shoot midday, Jason and I are going to set aside the rest of the night for something we believe is important.

Today is the Tuesday before the Saturday wedding. For over a year, we’ve thought about it, talked about it, and prayed about it. We’re confident that it is the right thing to do.

Tonight, we’re going to take the Highlander and drive to the end of the paved road, then walk a little further, phones on airplane mode.

We believe marriage is sacred and the ceremony is a moment when lives become united. After the wedding, there is a life still to come.

Tonight, we want to sit in the quiet and make a covenant—not with each other—but with God. We want to be intentional and purposeful about setting the course of our future lives and aligning them with how we believe God is calling us to live.

Apologies in advance, but you’re not invited.

I’m sure there’s plenty going on today that my typical goodnight post won’t be missed. Of course, I expect to be back to normal on Wednesday.

I’ll also have something to share at today’s shoot! In the meantime, I hope you have a great Tuesday morning. See you soon!

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IT’S A LOOK

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. That’s a good thing, because there’s no chance I could explain this and stay inside the max character limit.

“Who would wear this?” Kaylee asked.

“We will,” Jasmine replied. “Today, at least.”

The makeup artist could hardly keep from laughing at the dresses. And shoes.

In contrast, the shot list read like it was cut and pasted from a bridesmaid shoot. So we’re posing like everything is normal when nothing about this actually is.

We might have had some fun with it, too, though… take a few shots we definitely won’t send to the client!

I know there are events where outlandish gowns are the norm. Someone is paying for today to happen, so we’re giving them a great shoot.

“This is how professionals do it,” I said. “We wear what we’re given to wear, stand where we’re told to stand, and make faces like we don’t care what anyone thinks… Work, it girl! Now pout! Now you’re aloof and distant… It’s a job.”

Kaylee looked at Jasmine. I’d wear a trash-bag dress and duct-tape shoes for model pay.

“Same,” Jasmine replied.

Not today, but soon, I’ll tell them that they need to have a limit on what they’ll put on for pay. We’re professionals, yes. But when the studio lights go off, we have to live with ourselves and our choices.

HIGH FASHION HOUSEKEEPER by Kaylee Branch

The shoot ran long. I should say the makeup and hair ran long, meaning the picture-taking started late and ended later than planned.

Isaac couldn’t believe what he saw when I walked in.

“Well, that’s a different look.”

I grabbed a commode brush and modeled for him. He laughed the way that makes everything feel right, even when it isn’t.

I guess I could make something big out of the picture. I know Ailana could. She sees meaning in ordinary things and makes people think differently.

I’d like to say the makeup says, “I was part of something spectacular today.” Then the cleaning brush says, “And now I’m back doing the job that pays bills and keeps life moving.”

That’s the heart of it, as far as I can say. Modeling is money. Love and life are real, and real’s what matters in the long run.

I guess I can add a thought as I get back to my normal life by saying things are changing. Normal is not what it was.

Clay and Josh helped Allen Geven and Isaac set up First Call Property Services. Dave Callahan said he liked the idea and has been letting Isaac bill him for some little repairs.

We made a listing on Facebook Marketplace and have been telling people what we’re doing. Mostly, I hold tools and fetch things when Hudson lets me. Allen meets us most evenings and goes over how to do this and that.

Well, I’ve strayed from my point, but things are changing. First Call is adding a lot to our finances.

I think Isaac and me know who we are. Metal dresses and dramatic makeup are just a show—something I wore to get a paycheck. Cleaning toilets isn’t who we are either. It’s just another way to earn money.

Isaac and me are grateful for what we have. And at the top of the list is that we have each other and Hudson. Everything else comes after that.

UNBELIEVABLE by Kel Hale

I’m walking out of my caseworker’s office and, probably, into a new life. I’m somewhere in between utter disbelief and overwhelming joy. Probably both at the same time.

“Kel,” Josh said—for now, they want me to call them by their first names, not Mr. and Mrs. Ryan—“you know we’re going to get a lot of things wrong. We want to make a life for you and share ours with you. So, if we become too much, just tell us.”

Geoni smiled. “Like right now I’m resisting the urge to ask if you want to go for ice cream or something.”

Josh looked at me and nodded. “We can think about that once we decide on dinner.”

I’m not trying to understand all the paperwork. Here’s where things stand.

There’s a six-month trial period. That might not even be the right word, but it’s the right idea. So, the worst that could happen is I get to hang out with the Ryans and do cool stuff for a while as the court does whatever it's going to do. If things go badly, I can go back to foster.

I’m not getting the idea that anything bad is going to happen.

Maybe I’m going to be doted on a little. I won’t be used to that.

Geoni said they had a basic bedroom set up, and that she’d be excited to help me decorate. “I mean, if you want to make changes. It’s just plain right now. There’s a bed and a computer desk. Are you familiar with Macs? Everyone at AGI Creative uses Macs.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I’ve used Macs at school.”

Make that doted on a lot.

Tomorrow, there are more meetings, if you can believe that, but I get to stay at the hotel with them tonight. Josh has a sister, Nicole, who made reservations for them—us—while they were in the meeting with me yesterday. She booked rooms at the Four Seasons Hotel Houston.

What is higher on the scale than doted on?

So, everything is moving so fast that I’m finding it hard to keep in touch with being afraid. It’s in there somewhere, but for now it seems to have no place to land.

While I’m getting a chance at a life I never dreamed possible, I know a lot of kids are still stuck in bad situations, and I’m going to make sure I pray for them every night from now on. I won’t forget what it was like.

CROSSED THE LINE by Emily Amos

I’m actually thinking about aborting this chapter of my story and getting on with my new life two weeks early. That could happen.

There are only three days of school left, all my grades are already in, and I can get zeros on all my exams and still pass. Worst-case, I can get to where I’m going and fall back on McKinney-Vento to get some relief for missing the last few days. It might apply.

Yeah, I think I know what I’m trying to do.

And after what I just went through with my mother, I’m definitely considering it.

This time, she’s totally crossed the line. Like, “Oh, there’s a line? I never pay attention to lines.”

And the thing is, I don’t know how long it’s been going on or to what extent.

The rest of this chapter is exclusive to Patreon.

Let me go back to the beginning. I got home from school as usual to find out my mother wasn’t working. She worked last night later than normal, with customers in the apartment until—I don’t know—at least 11:00 p.m. She was still busy, so I went back out and just wandered around.

Not recommended, by the way.

I’m about to crash out on some of the people that keep harassing me when I’m walking around. If I had a phone, I could post it on TikTok and go viral: Vegas teen pepper spray crash out! Bro goes down crying like a baby.

Never mind that.

I finally got to sleep around 1:00 a.m. Four hours later, I got up, cleaned up, and left. I didn’t want to be there when she woke up.

I got home after school today, like I said, and she didn’t have anyone coming over. I hit the sofa and was gone.

I guess a few hours passed and I heard a thump. When I looked up, the flash on my mother’s iPad went off.

Her words of regret were a stream of profanity.

“What are you doing!”

I didn’t need her to answer to know. She was taking pictures of my feet.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

“Give me your iPad! Delete that!”

“No!” She backed up and almost fell.

“Are you on drugs?”

“Show some respect! I’m just trying to keep food on the table.”

“What?” I had to let that sink in, and when I realized what she was up to, I felt sick. “Give me that! Delete that picture.”

For some reason she thought the next thing she said was helpful. “This time, this one got sent directly to the buyer. I can’t delete it.”

My brain unpacked all that fast. “This time? This one? There are others?”

“Why can’t you be grateful? I’m just trying to keep a roof over your head.”

I snapped, “Then get a job like a real mother would.”

“Emily Taylor Amos! How dare you talk to me like that. You’re almost grown now. It’s time you helped out with expenses.”

“I do help out. I buy all my own everything.” Then I remembered something and didn’t like it. “Is this why you bought me nail polish?”

She didn’t answer my question. “I buy you plenty of things! Don’t be ungrateful!”

“Ha!” I shook my head. “You hardly buy food. What do you spend your money on? You’re buying drugs again, aren’t you?”

“I am not!”

“Then are you working for them?”

She turned around and stormed into her room.

I just sat here letting all that sink in. Phrases like “this time,” “this one,” and “buyer” told a story I can hardly imagine.

I replayed recent weeks, trying to think whether I was ever in the presence of her iPad when the pictures would have been worse. I don’t think so, unless wet hair and a T-shirt over shorts after a shower counts as worse, and I don’t know if she took a picture of that.

So my rage curdled into despair as I sat here.

I reviewed my plan, starting with checking my backpack to make sure my Social Security card and birth certificate were still there—they were. I had my caseworker’s phone number on a business card with it.

I recounted my prepaid debit cards to make sure I’d saved enough. I checked on a few other details of my plan, confirming I was ready.

If I called my caseworker, she’d swoop in and I’d be off to someplace I can’t predict. This might be bad, but at least I know how things go.

Making my move now could work. But it would create a lot of stress and could cause problems I don’t want to create. I’m going to rock the boat, no matter what happens, so I might as well try to cause the least trouble possible.

I decided I can stick to the original timetable, for now. June 1 isn’t that far off.

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