Author Note:
Hope you all had a wonderful holiday season with the people you love most and all the best in the coming new year. Please read with care; chapter contains allusions to child abuse. ~b'shert
Chapter 13: Monsters, Awakened
Stef tried to make small talk as Callie prolonged breakfast by nibbling off individual squares of her Eggo waffle. She couldn't fault the girl for feeling as though therapy was punishment; when Callie had balked at the appointment, instead of trying harder to find out what was behind it, she had threatened her with the school counsellor to coerce her into compliance. It had not been her finest moment as a parent. In fact, lately, it seemed that situations which brought to light her deepest insecurities and ineptitude were a common phenomena—emphasizing the feeling that she was being a terrible mother to Callie.
"Let's do something together on the way home," the cop suggested, trying not to take it personally that her attempts to cajole Callie had been going nowhere. "Maybe stop somewhere for a dessert or takeout and we can eat in that park you like, the one with the dock and the pond? We could even go to dinner if you wanted to, honey. As long as we do it early enough so that I can order stuff to bring home for everyone else."
"That's okay," Callie shook her head sadly, "Lena likes it when we all eat together."
By the time they pulled into the parking lot of the medical building, Stef was desperate to hear from her daughter. "Love, please don't shut me out," she begged. "I know you're not happy with me right now for this situation. It sucks, I know. Just tell me what I can do to make things easier," she said, hoping Callie would identify something. However, the only response she received was the sound of the door slamming shut a little louder than it should have.
Gisella Wiseman was a middle-aged, well-dressed woman who didn't hesitate to get down to business right after introductions were made. "The first thing I'd like you to do is an activity that tells me about your family—how it looks like right now and how it compares to how it was before. That way, I get to learn about how your family changed over the last few years.
She paused. "There are also a few questions I always need to ask at the first session. Most of the youth I worked with have found it helpful to have something else to focus on to get through some of the difficult parts. It's up to you whether you would like your foster mom to stay. If you would like that, I do recommend that it be for the first half hour only because it's important to keep some time where we can talk privately too. How does that sound, Callie?"
"Yeah," the teen responded. Her dismissiveness caused Stef to wonder if Callie was already spacing out. Dr. Wiseman's sessions were more expensive than other child psychologist's, solely because she was one of a handful in the city that worked with trauma in children and youth with foster care involvement. At $240 per session and with extended medical from the police department that only covered a portion of the cost, the cop definitely felt the pressure of wanting Callie to engage more than her usual self.
However, Callie surprised her, turning to Dr. Wiseman to clarify what she thought she had heard. There was no trace of the slight attitude that had just been present. "It's okay if Stef stays?"
Just as quickly, Callie looked to the cop. "Only if you want to," she added in a small voice that belied the confidence she wished to portray as she directed her gaze down. Even as she offered the out, she really didn't want Stef to take it; as much as she blamed her for the current situation, Dr. Wiseman was a stranger and she didn't want to be questioned alone.
Seeing how dispirited Callie looked as she sank even further down in her seat, Stef was caught off guard; her daughter was extremely reserved so she had assumed that Callie would've opted for privacy. At the same time, she was grateful to feel wanted.
"Of course, love. I can stay as long as you want, and as long as I'm allowed. You just let me know when you want me to leave." Not wanting to make promises she couldn't keep, Stef turned to the psychologist. "Sounds like it'd just be for the assessment?"
Dr. Wiseman nodded. "Correct. It's always helpful to include the guardian when possible for the first part when we complete the questionnaire. I have time set aside afterwards to speak privately with Callie; some topics are concerned with family dynamics and I like to ensure that everyone can speak freely. There is an opportunity at the end of each session to meet with the parent or guardian to go over recommendations to establish consistency with the support the child receives at home."
"I only ask that that guardians refrain from questioning their children about the content that is revealed; however, information can always be offered so feel free to participate. Questions can be saved for the end and of course, information can be shared with the other parent as you see fit. And Callie, you can call a time out at any time," Dr. Wiseman clarified, as mother and daughter nodded.
The woman reached for a stack of laminated cards and a sheet of white paper that was loosely folded, sitting off to the side of the large table they were sitting at. Standing, Dr. Wiseman laid out the paper and drew three large columns using a marker. "Are you familiar with Venn diagrams?" she asked, spurring Callie to roll her eyes.
"I'll take that as a yes," she responded as she labeled the middle column BOTH and the one on the right Stef+Lena and gestured to the stack. Nearly twenty years of experience had familiarized the psychologist with the myriad ways in which young people who had been hurt put up a front to hide it, and Callie's disapproval did nothing to phase her.
"Each card has a describing word or a characteristic on it. Your first task is to figure out and label which family you want to compare your current one with," she explained, tapping the column to the left. "You'll go through each card, determine whether the word applies to one or both families, and then place it in its corresponding spot. While you work on that I'll go through some questions with you. Do you have questions for me?"
At this point Callie was beginning to feel pissed off over the ridiculous activity. "Nope," she responded tersely, this time glaring at the woman.
Over the years working as a cop, Stef had attended mandatory Critical Incident Stress Counselling following particularly harrowing cases she was assigned to and near-misses. It didn't take her long to understand the rationale behind the activity her daughter had been asked to do. For Callie, who tended to use avoidance tactics when intimidated or confronted by things she didn't like, giving her something to focus on was a better way to question her.
Dr. Wiseman was skilled, starting with simple questions about Callie's full name, birthday, where she was born, and her interests before beginning the assessment.
"Have you heard of the word trauma?"
"Mhm," Callie responded, her tone noncommittal as she moved Affectionate into the middle column, which depicted the overlap between the four adults: Mom and Dad, Stef and Lena.
"What do you think it means?"
After a lengthy pause, the girl repeated the definition as best she could remember from group. "When something terrible happens. Murder, house fires…maybe an accident?"
"Exactly. Those things can be traumatic because they're often overwhelming, scary, and threaten someone's sense of safety. They're hard to cope with so people usually feel helpless in these situations. You gave some examples of one-time events but trauma can also be caused by things that happen repeatedly over a period of time. Can you think of some examples like that?"
The woman paused, allowing enough silence to pass until it was obvious Callie wasn't going to answer. "Poverty, being separated from loved ones, violence at home. Have you had experiences that I or Stef might think are traumatic?"
"Dunno what you guys might think," Callie said quietly, bristling at the question. Her irritation rose as she saw Dr. Wiseman scribble notes onto the notepad, despite her efforts to avoid giving the woman anything with substance.
"Callie, some of these questions are difficult. You can pass if you feel uncomfortable but otherwise it's important that you try to answer them. Good to go?" Dr. Wiseman's voice was all business as she took out another form from a manila folder.
"Mhm."
The cop watched as the woman ticked Yes for Has anyone close to you died? and Did a household member go to prison? She was grateful that the woman remembered the answers, likely from the information Lena had already provided, sparing Callie from having to endure them.
Admittedly, there was an element of self-preservation on her part as well. While Stef was thoroughly grateful to have been asked to stay, she was unsure if she was ready to hear what might come, and her gut instinct told her it wouldn't be long before her apprehensiveness was confirmed.
"Yes or no. Did a parent or adult in the home often hit, push, grab, slap, or hurt you in a way that left marks or were injured?"
"Which house?" Callie asked casually as she placed Trustworthy in the middle column, focusing on the cards before her to avoid eye contact with either of the women.
Stef's fought the urge to cry with Callie's attempt for clarification, defaulting the answer to yes; her and Jude had been in at least one home where they were hurt intentionally. There would've been no need for further explanation otherwise. Although the cop had always known that the siblings had likely been abused from their behaviour and accidental slips of the tongue from the younger boy, it didn't make it any less easy to hear Callie validate it.
"Any of them."
There was a long pause as the teen deliberated if she should answer. It wasn't like the cop was completely in the dark about her and Jude, anyway. But at the same time, Callie really didn't want to give in and make way for discussions she didn't want to have. Plus, the last time she had stolen a glance at Stef, she had seen the tears—and as much as she was pissed off at her, she didn't want to make her any sadder than she obviously was.
She heard Dr. Wiseman start up again. "Callie, could you tell me—"
"Pass," she said definitively, hoping the woman would get the message.
"Yes or no. In any of the homes you were in, did a parent or an adult often swear at, insult, humiliate or put you down, or act in a way that made you scared you might get hurt?
"Pass."
Stef fought to keep her composure intact with every ambiguous, dismissive pass Callie gave which the cop took as a yes. Because if it hadn't happened at all, it would've been no. As the questioning gave way to truths that tore at her heartstrings, her anger at every single person who had failed Callie and Jude and had become another perpetrator compounded exponentially.
Callie had just turned thirteen when she came to live with them. Still at an age when she was in need of care and firm guidance, but whose life circumstances had forced her to grow up quickly in many ways. Wisdom juxtaposed with the girl's reluctance and apprehensiveness emphasized her babyfaced features more than ever, making the revelations all the more upsetting and disturbing.
"Yes or no. In any of the homes you were in, did you often feel you didn't have enough to eat?
"No!"
Immediately, Stef's bullshit alarm went off. "That's…that's not true, honey. We both know it isn't," she gently corrected, regretting it as soon as her daughter looked to her with betrayal written in her expression. Then again, if progress was to be made, Callie needed to know to be honest even if she wasn't going to talk.
Dr. Wiseman turned to the teen. "Would it be okay with you if I let Stef share her thoughts?"
"It doesn't matter," Callie muttered bitterly, both hurt and annoyed at how the cop had butted in. It wasn't any of her business. "She already did, anyway."
"No. Don't do that. It matters, Callie!" she hissed impatiently. "It matters that you threw up everything you ate before noon because you weren't used to having anything for breakfast. It matters that Jude still thinks to this day that a can of Chef Boyardee and a jello cup as fruit is a balanced meal." The woman tried to control the tremor in her voice as she described her youngest's startling admission the day she and Lena found decomposing food in the bedroom him and Jesus shared. "He feared my wife and I would take away food if he got in trouble," Stef explained.
Callie flinched inwardly as she listened. Hunger wasn't something she wanted to remember, but unfortunately, Stef had given Dr. Wiseman the in that she had been looking for. "What do you think of what your foster mother shared?"
"It sucks," the teen replied, her voice pitching slightly.
"What were meal times like in the other homes?"
"Just me and Jude usually," Callie shrugged in defeat. There was no point in hiding it now that the truth was out there.
"We really didn't mind," she minimized. "Most foster parents make you eat at a different time from their real kids so they can have their own family time and…so no one notices if you have to eat different food or get less."
"Did you try to tell anyone?"
"Tell anyone what?" The girl couldn't help the attitude that crept in, irritated that the woman refused to let the issue slide.
"Callie," she heard her foster mom reprove. Though she wasn't willing to meet the cop's eyes, she just knew the sad, disappointed look that was probably being directed her way. "I didn't," she finally replied, a little more defensively than she intended. "Jude did…but it was an accident, he didn't know," she insisted automatically.
"What happened?"
Callie's defenses weakened as the old memory began to awaken, a monster rearing its ugly head. "In the first home Bill made us go to see this lady like you," she said, using air quotes, "a talking doctor." She took a deep breath before continuing. "Jude was little. One day she asked us if we had any questions and he asked how come foster kids weren't allowed seconds or to eat with the rest of the family. She kept asking questions and we kept answering them wrong," Callie mumbled, her face burning. "We asked her not to say anything but she said she had to and we got into trouble."
"No, baby. You were not in the wrong," Stef whispered, placing a hand on Callie's knee as the girl scowled and crossed her arms. "You were anything but wrong," she repeated sadly, sadly, incredulous that her daughter believed she and Jude were at fault.
"What sort of trouble?" Dr. Wiseman pressed.
What was it with this woman and needing to have everything spelled out for her, Callie thought, as she grabbed a handful of cards and carefully placed protective, reliable, and caring in the middle column. She stalled, wondering how much she should say but figured now was as good a time as any. With Stef there, she felt a little more brave.
"When Bill drove us to the house he checked the kitchen and asked our foster mother stuff about what we'd get for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It didn't really look good for us because there was a lot of food in the kitchen and she told him about what she cooked. And she did," Callie elaborated.
Having read Bill's summary of the impromptu welfare check, the cop straightened, knowing exactly how things had been left off that day. She watched Callie almost slam down cards in frustration. Easygoing, permissive for Colleen and Donald; strict for her and Lena's; open-minded, fair, dependable, and protective for everyone.
"Jeanine was a really good cook, way better than Mom. We'd watch her make lasagna and beef stew…fish and chicken," the girl said softly. "But um, she didn't tell the part about how we weren't allowed to eat what she cooked. That was for her real kids."
Callie's stomach turned as she recalled the visceral horror that set in as the heavy front door to the house finally closed. As the realization set in that Bill was leaving her and Jude there and that they were about to pay for their mistake.
"We were on a hot lunch program at school so we just had to be good about eating as much as we could then for a few days. Not like we were hungry all the time," she offered, wanting to alleviate her own distress at the recollection as well as Stef's, which she gathered from the trembling exhale that emanated from beside her. Having only succeeded in making the cop feel worse, Callie didn't dare look up for fear that if she did, she would accidentally catch a glimpse of the woman's sadness in her peripheral vision.
The teen hadn't meant to sound like such a smart aleck about it. It was true. She would've happily accepted an arrangement where lunch was the only meal of the day for a whole week if it had meant erasing the part where the foster mother, enraged, took out her anger on Jude. If it had meant her brother could've avoided his first brush with violence, which left both of their innocence and sense of safety shattered in its wake.
Author Note:
Was Stef out of line for stepping in?