Page 105 of If You Claim Me
Being three in my first home.
Before the foster families.
I cry and cry and cry until my voice gives out.
And then silence.
So much silence.
Blue-tinged mannequins.
Open eyes. Watching TV forever.
Three sunrises and sunsets.
Mommy and Daddy smell bad.
Silence stretches on.
Empty cupboards. Empty stomach.
Knocking on the door.
Knocking. Knocking. Knocking.
I’m not supposed to open the door.
A loud crack. Frantic voices. Uniforms.
A woman with haunted, sad eyes holds me and tells me I will be okay.
But I’m not.
And I never will be.
“Hey, hey…” Warm hands on my face pull me out of the past. “Mildred, baby, look at me, where are you?”
Connor’s panicked eyes finally register as I fight my way out of the deluge and suck in a lungful of air—like I’ve been stuck underwater, like the memories have been pinning me to the floor of my mind. “I’m sorry.” I gasp and shudder.
“You don’t need to be sorry.” He takes my shaking hands in his. “Is this okay? Can I touch you? Is it okay for me to touch you?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Yes, it’s okay.” We’re parked haphazardly on the side of the road. I’m shaking. Shivering uncontrollably. Like I’m cold, but I’m not.
“Okay. You’re okay. We’re okay.” He presses my hand against his cheek. “No surprises, darling.”
“I’m sorry I don’t like them,” I whisper, hating that the past has come here with me.
“I’m the one who’s sorry.” He kisses the back of my hand, apology on his face and in his eyes, his voice cracking. “We’re driving to Blue Mountain. We have a private cabin booked on a lake. It’s pretty up there this time of year, and a short drive. I wanted to take you somewhere peaceful, because I know this whole thing has been a lot.”
“I like the lake.” I exhale another steadying breath.
“Me too. It’s a nice escape.” He kisses my knuckles, lips lingering on my skin.
“I’m okay now.” I lock it all away. Put the pain in a box and keep it there. “It just hits sometimes…little things trigger memories. Like scents. Most of the time I can find somewhere quiet to go and just…”Lose it in private. “Cope.”
He turns my hand over and kisses the inside of my wrist. It’s healed now, the skin pinker than it should be, but no more scabs. “I’m here however you need me to be, okay? If you want to talk, or even if you don’t, I’m here.”
I believe he means it. I just don’t knowhowhe means it. He has to be here for me. It’s his role, and I’m learning that Connor takes those seriously.
