When my mother was committed, Jenny and I were separated. I was about ten and Jenny nine. It was really hard for me. Before that, the only time we were apart was when I went on an overnight field trip with my 4th grade class room. Jenny had told me that she wouldn't miss me and that it was only for one night. She was a big girl, she could handle not having a playmate for 24 hours, but when I arrived home the next day with sunkissed skin and mosquito bites all over she couldn't stay away from me. I knew she missed me.
Our dad had bailed out on my mom when I was around four. Said he couldn't take anymore of the crazy, or something like that I don't really remember. Somehow when he left I felt free. Mama no longer had anyone to argue with and the smell of beer and cigarettes no longer hugged my clothes and hair. Jenny probably doesn't even remember what he looks like, but I do. And it was on a hot summer day filled with tears, suitcases, and tiny little fists trying to free themselves of an inevitable fate that I longed to see it. I prayed for the kids at school to tease me because of the way I reeked of aged whiskey, I screamed at walls trying to replace the empty silence with my parents yelling and bickering, solely because that meant that I had a family. Because I had Jenny, the one person that never let me down, even until this day. Because I had love.
When I entered through the threshold of my first foster home I expected the worse. I saw the movies, read the books, and even watched infomercials on foster care. I was gonna be beaten, not fed, and picked on by the other kids whose lives had been stolen from them. And maybe perform 'Hard Knock Life' from Annie while I was at I found was the complete opposite actually. Mrs. Elsa was a sweet old woman. Not old enough to be greying, but I was 10 everyone a foot taller than me was considered old. She treated all six of us girls like we were her own. Still I had no idea what my little sisters fate was and i was on a mean streak. I gave that woman hell for as long as I could until she couldn't take anymore of me. She even cried the day that my social worker came and took me away. I never even told her thank you. Then it was off to the group home I go.
The group home was the worst. I don't even know how many children lived there with me, but there were a lot of us. Boy and girl coed facility. I walked into the door and saw many of the children dirty, skinny and they all seemed to have the saddest eyes. No matter what kind of day my mama was having she made sure that Jenny and I were fed and well groomed. Said the Dixon women were never unkempt and neither were we to be. The children's dreadful demeanor took hold of me like a cloak. I was no longer allowed to be a happy child, but something completely different.
We were not allowed to speak at the dinner table. I had to learn that the hard way, with three thick rulers and a quick flick of the wrist. One day when I was staring into my bowl of who-knows-what I heard Ms. Lori complaining about having to take in another child that night. She hated us kids as we did her. I was afraid to look up from my food because the girl that sat across from me threatened to beat me up again if I even looked at her the wrong way. She was a teenager and I was just a kid. Plus I was always small for my age. "Whats your name little girl." Ms. Lori demanded from the new girl. The girl didn't respond. "I said what is your name!" She yelled this time. "Don't you have my-my papers?, You sh-should know my name." My head jerked up when I heard the girl speak, the stutter was new but the voice and sass all too familiar to me. "Jenny." The girl finally spoke. I nearly jumped out of my seat when I saw Jenny's face. Her face had a scar under her eye, but nothing too serious. I hadn't seen or spoken to my sister in months. I was just stunned at her very presence. I thought that I would never see her again.
Jenny took a seat at the far end of the table, in close reach of Ms. Lori's stick. I stared at her, willing her eyes to reach mine and see that I was there. Me, her family, her playmate. Instead she stared down at her hands. Probably thinking what I was thinking when I arrived. What will happen to me here? I stared harder in her direction wanting to scream out 'Hey sissy! Look over here its me! Abbie!' But not wanting the wrath of Ms. Lori. I hadn't heard someone else say my name in I don't know how long. It was always 'hey you' or 'aye'. There were too many children to remember the names of all. Jenny here would be great. She could handle fighting the boys, always have. "Eat!" Ms. Lori yelled as she pounded on the table startling us all. Jenny flinched and immediately brought the spoon to her mouth as she did so she looked up and noticed me staring at her. Her mouth grew wide and her eyes big as she dropped the spoon into the bowl making a loud clatter over the silence of the table. I was so relieved when she noticed me, I even cracked my first smile since I had arrived there.
Jenny started to cry. Like with sound and all. I had never witnessed her cry like that. She was hysterical. "Enough!" Ms. Lori yelled at her. That only made her cry even more. I begged Jenny to shut up in my mind. She did. Later on that night Jenny was assigned to my room. Well not really my room I shared it with two other girls. When Jenny entered with her bags we ran to each other. Neither one wanting to let the other go because we were too afraid of losing each other again. "What happened to your eye?" I asked her after a long while. "Nothing. I-I just fell off of s-something." It was weird hearing my little sister stutter because she had never did it before. I remember my teacher telling us that when something traumatic happened a child can develop a stutter. She never told me what happened and I never asked again. From that day on she never slept in her own bunk. She would sneak into mine at night and settle in close to me. I didn't mind, just as long as I had my family.