Author Note: Lena spreads her wings as a parent. Previously, I mentioned that I'm not as comfortable writing her as a character, but more and more I'm finding her to be malleable in this story and I like it. Thanks to my beta, theypreferthetermpeople, as well as to AllyCallie for planting new ideas in my head.
New readers: welcome, and I hope you enjoy. ~b'shert
Addendum: It seems like depending on what browser you're using, the text formatting gets wiped but I'm at a loss about how to fix it. Sorry guys.
Chapter 43: Those Tentative First Steps
After sleeping in an extra hour, Callie's fever broke and her appetite made an appearance. Determined to maximize their time together, Lena brewed a pot of tea for herself and sat down with Callie while she had her breakfast. Once plates were cleared away, she brought out the iron and laid the protective pad down on the table.
She had spoken with Stef before Callie woke up, getting updated on the events from the night before as well as how things with Jude had gone, knowing he'd been upset when they left the house that morning. After discussing the damaged book, they had decided not to immediately pay for a replacement to avoid making the problem simply disappear. They would if necessary, but for now, they felt that involving Callie in the process of putting it back together would be a memorable natural consequence. That the task would be tedious would double as the perfect exercise in patience, which they hoped would encourage Callie to think of more appropriate ways to calm herself in the future.
That was how Lena ended up wrestling with the scotch tape while supervising Callie—who was nervously handling a hot iron—to make sure the paper wouldn't burn. They had decided Callie would be responsible for straightening the crumpled pages. But now she was questioning who this was more tiresome for since she was the one doing most of the work.
"Hand me that next page. No, sweetheart. Pay attention. Do not just grab the closest one," she instructed when she realized she had been given p.121 when they needed p.117. She was trying to be patient, knowing Callie wasn't feeling her best and her attention span was limited. "Look, honey…I know this isn't very exciting and it would be easier to pay for another copy, but it's the right thing to do," she reminded, regretting the way she had spoken when she noticed the remorseful expression on her daughter's face.
"Sorry about my book…" Callie mumbled, still feeling ashamed from when Lena had confronted her with the tattered novel—something she hadn't expected would happen. It was hard to describe, but she felt slightly exposed learning that Stef and Lena knew what she'd done. Like she had disappointed them in another way.
"I know you are, honey, but there's no need to apologize anymore. We can only try to make things right," Lena encouraged. Taping the last of the ironed pages back into place, she closed the novel and set it aside before reaching over to switch off the iron.
"What was going on that got your book in this state?" Lena questioned. She knew that her daughter was uncomfortable, but she was curious about Callie's reasoning (or lack thereof).
Her wife had given her some useful insight into the events of last night but hadn't been able to tell her everything she wanted to know. All she had been able to infer was that Callie had left home because of the broken lamp; however, it told her nothing about why she had taken her anger out on her things in the first place.
The girl shrugged reflexively as she thought of the godawful worksheet. "I got mad." She paused to think through her answer, knowing Lena expected more. "I—I read something and got thinking about some stuff...and, things kinda got out of hand," she admitted, blowing out a breath as she remembered how ripping out the first page had lead to another.
"Something in Bridge to Terabithia, you mean?"
"Yeah."
Lena hummed thoughtfully. That story was tough for anyone who had experienced loss. "And your lamp? How did that happen?"
"I threw my book and accidentally knocked it over," Callie admitted guiltily. "I was looking in the garage for glue so I could fix it but there wasn't anything and…" She trailed off at the visceral memory of her mounting panic as she searched the metal drawers, which offered every single adhesive except for the one she needed.
"You thought it'd be easier if you ran away?"
Callie's gaze flitted upward at the bluntness of the question. "Mama, I—it wasn't like that. I swear I didn't plan it," she defended. Nothing had been easy about leaving and she had only done it because it seemed like her best option. "I thought, maybe you and Mom were gonna be done with letting me live here."
Her voice pitched with apprehension as she tried to articulate her thinking. Though she now knew it was something that'd never happen, revisiting old fears still got her choked up. "Because, I've been messing up, over and over again. And I thought, maybe, you guys were getting tired of it and wouldn't want to put up with me anymore."
"Callie girl...we will never get tired of you," Lena soothed. The insecurity was so entrenched that it would be a while before those worries faded into the shadows; even then, she didn't expect them to ever completely disappear. "Believe me, sweetheart. Between B and the twins, we've seen it all. There has been plenty of messing up over the years and Mom and I still tolerate them. And that goes for you, too. In fact, we can't imagine life without any of you," she said, smiling at the slow grin creeping across Callie's face.
"Yeah, it was stupid."
"No, not if that's what you're used to," Lena acknowledged. "All of a sudden, we're asking you to put your trust in us when you've only known us for a short while." It had barely been four months since Callie and Jude came along, but it was getting easier and easier to forget that little detail. "On top of that, things here are very different from the other places you and Jude have lived," she empathized. "It's going to take some getting used to."
Callie thought about what her foster mom was saying. This morning, as she'd drifted in and out of sleep, she had vowed to do better for Stef and Lena. To try and hear them out and believe what they would tell her without second-guessing all the time. That had only proven to be exhausting and had caused her weeks of heartache.
As the girl fell silent, Lena did some reflection of her own on her insecurities as a mother. Yesterday's events—which she interpreted as Callie feeling safer running away than coming to her—had only exacerbated them. In many ways, her relationship with Callie didn't come as easy as the one Stef had with her although it was evident that her daughter liked and trusted her. They spent time together and on several occasions, she had been the only one who had been able to calm her down. And judging by the way Callie had reacted when she felt Stef had disrespected her during the argument she had overheard, their daughter was clearly protective of her. However, there was something about their dynamic that lent itself to her having very limited authority over Callie, who simply didn't seem to respond to her as well as she did to Stef, when she responded at all. Their daughter pushed boundaries with both of them but would usually cave only to Stef's discipline.
To be honest, Lena harboured some resentment towards her wife for what she perceived as a significant difference in the level of deference Callie had for each of them. This whole time she had been diligently working on establishing a parenting relationship based on warmth and consistency to nurture and cultivate respect. As with their other children, she and Stef were equally responsive to Callie's needs, stressed open communication, had high expectations of her, and kept consistent consequences. However, her wife was a little more authoritarian in her parenting style. She was stricter, emphasizing obedience, and was quick to discipline which often led to tears. And forget cultivating respect—Stef commanded and expected it, period. If she needed to use the fear of punishment as a means to enforce good behaviour, she would do so without hesitation. At the end of the day, Lena realized Callie would need to learn to obey authority due to her legal troubles but she was still uncomfortable with her wife's tough love approach. Then again, it was Stef who could get her to turn things around.
It felt as though she and Stef were two halves of one parent to Callie. One that was barely keeping things together—rather than two whole parents that Callie needed.
"Why didn't you say something when I asked if you were okay?" In hindsight, she realized that the noise she had heard while in the tub had been the lamp falling, not a binder as Callie had told her.
Her daughter stared at her, bewildered. "You said you needed a bath when you got home and you only do that when you're stressed. I didn't want to bother you," she said truthfully.
"You wouldn't have bothered me," Lena replied, unsure if she should be relieved that was all it had been, rather than a sign of Callie feeling like she couldn't count on her.
Callie and Jude were so different from their other three, who never hesitated to approach them for anything. She and Stef complained about the lack of privacy that came with the endless questions directed at them through the bathroom door and interruptions to intimate moments, but admittedly, it was nice to be needed—to know their children saw their support as unwavering and always available. It hadn't always been that way, however. The twins had been extremely shy and nervous when they first came along, but while Jesus had quickly warmed up to them, Mariana had remained mute for quite some time. It had felt like an eternity before her trust developed enough that she would converse with them out of her own volition and approach them for help, but compared to Callie, her progress had been much faster given her younger age then. Their newest additions were heading in the right direction but still had a ways to go until they were comfortable doing the same without worrying about troubling them. That was the hope, anyway.
"You know, honey…I didn't have the best relationship with my mother growing up. It was hard for me to talk to her and that's not something Mom and I envision for our family. We want all of you to be able to come to us with the expectation that we'll always do our best to help you, no matter what it's about," Lena said. "I feel terrible—I really do—that you thought I was too preoccupied for you. That running away from home was a better choice than to come find me."
Callie sat there awkwardly as she listened. Going to find Lena hadn't even entered the realm of possibility. "Sorry," she said, shoulders sagging. "It wasn't that I didn't want to talk to you. I just didn't think about it, really Lena. I didn't mean to make you feel bad or anything."
"It's okay, sweetheart. You didn't make me feel bad," Lena clarified, regretting how she had phrased things. "You are not responsible for how I feel."
Satisfied that the woman was being honest, Callie nodded. "How come you didn't want to talk to your Mom?" she asked cautiously, feeling brave enough to let her thoughts wander out loud.
"That's a great question," Lena said, smiling fondly at her daughter. Only eight when Colleen had died, Callie wouldn't have been at the age when she would begin to seek independence from her parents. "It felt like I couldn't live up to her expectations and I worried constantly about letting her down with my decisions…or if I made a mistake. So I hid a lot of things from her, including who I was, and put my efforts towards being perfect. That wasn't good for me or our relationship," she explained, omitting the part about how critical her mother had been of her. As much as she wanted to be transparent, she also didn't want to influence the connection she hoped Callie would eventually have with her grandma. "We have a great relationship now, though. Almost like we needed to drift apart so we could become closer."
"That's silly. No one's perfect," Callie blurted out, causing Lena to laugh softly at the conclusion. Given all of her daughter's anxiety over her own mistakes, this was the last thing Lena expected to hear from her.
"That's right, and we shouldn't try to be. Mistakes are really opportunities for growth," she said, picking up the dog-eared book and waving it at her as Callie rolled her eyes. She surveyed their handiwork before handing it over. "There. Good as new…almost." She would let Timothy know about the damage tomorrow and pay for a replacement if needed.
Her daughter brightened, noticing that it didn't look so bad now. "Thanks!"
"You're welcome, Callie girl. But here's the thing…" she began as she folded up the ironing pad.
"Yeah, Mama?" Callie said, discouraged by the awareness that this was the start of a lecture.
"You cannot go destroying things like this when you are angry, honey. Mom and I really want to see you find other ways to cope when you get upset." While Callie's short fuse had always been a concern, something about seeing the shredded novel—pieces of which Stef had collected and brought to the office—had magnified her worries. Some pages had been ripped out in entire sections, tearing the adhesive binding out with it. The damage was extensive and there was no mistaking that it had been done in a fit of rage.
"Callie," she said firmly. She preferred her children didn't ignore her when being addressed.
"I know," her daughter replied.
Taken aback by the distinct edge to Callie's whine that spoke to her impatience with this new topic, Lena felt her exasperation rise. "If you know, then you need to show us," she said, mimicking the emphasis Callie had placed on her words.
Callie looked down, ashamed. She didn't need that reminder; she did already know, but showing it was a whole other ballgame. Like the haphazard decision to leave the house the night before, she hadn't started her homework with the intention to wreck anything. It'd just happened. And honestly it frustrated her that Lena was talking about it like she'd gone and decided to do it on purpose, because she hadn't. "O-kayyyyah," she repeated, once again unable to avoid over enunciating to portray her annoyance.
Not having missed the storm clouds brewing, Lena frowned. She was surprised by the sudden shift in Callie's willingness to communicate and whatever patience she initially had for Callie because she was sick had quickly been expended. In deliberating between scolding the girl or pushing through with her lecture, she weighed each option against the risk of an argument. Settling on neither in favour of trying to understand, she leaned across the counter and propped herself up on forearms so she could speak quietly to Callie. "What's happening right now?" After genuine apologies, this was not the response she had been expecting that showed her daughter intended to make some changes in her life. "I'm trying to be fair and have a conversation with you about making better decisions but you are not being very respectful or showing that you're listening to me."
Callie considered making a witty comeback but stopped herself. "Nothing..." she mumbled. "I said okay," she said, eventually acquiescing at Lena's firmness, though it wasn't without whining.
Wishing she knew where the sudden attitude was coming from, Lena sighed, accepting this was probably as good as it would get. For now, she would let it go.
"Two deep breaths and one step back, remember?" She narrowed her gaze as Callie slid down in her seat.
"Callie."
"I'm listening!" Callie snapped, impatient both at her foster mom's irritation and reminder. She just wanted Lena to let it go. She did remember but hadn't thought of that at the time. If she had, she wouldn't have gotten into this mess. Obviously.
Lena could only shake her head. Despite Callie's insistence that she was listening, her obstinance told a different story. Her daughter was so caught up in being upset with her for bringing this up that she wasn't hearing her—not interested in showing any intention of following through—rendering her attempts to get through to Callie ineffective. She needed a shift from defensiveness to acceptance to take place for that to happen.
"Are you?" she asked, pausing to let that sink in. She couldn't help her amusement when Callie gave her a sheepish look, part of the fight dissipating but stubbornness still in the way of an honest answer.
"By the way, taking a step back does not mean taking off," Lena continued although she questioned the value of lecturing further. "I didn't even know you were gone, honey. Had you gotten into a situation in which you needed help, we wouldn't have known where to even begin looking for you. That behaviour needs to stop. Running away doesn't solve anything."
She paused, waiting for a nod of acknowledgement before going on. She would have her daughter's full attention very soon. "Mom and I have decided that the three of us will be spending a lot more time together until we are confident this won't happen again," she said as her daughter eyed her curiously, knowing something was up. "That means you must be with one of us at all times when we're out. Same as before, but this time there will be no exceptions."
It was scary not knowing where your children were, period. Callie had been on restriction ever since getting suspended from school and disappearing at Dr. Wiseman's office, but over the last week, she and Stef had been gradually loosening the reins to give her her space back and to show she was earning back their trust. It was why Stef had allowed a solo visit to the coffee joint the day she took Callie out for errands. Unfortunately, they weren't comfortable doing that now.
As Callie's face sank, Lena prepared herself to hear what wasn't acceptable about the consequence. It was definitely a bit of a setback for Callie, who according to her wife, had been thrilled at being allowed to go off on her own to the cafe. But this had nothing to do with getting lost in the parking lot that day and everything to do with having left the house without their knowledge.
"But Ma—" Callie started to protest. She faltered when Lena held up a finger to stop her and she realized, to her dismay, that that wasn't the end of her consequence.
"And when you're home, one of us needs to be on the same floor. This includes the garage and the backyard. If you need some time out there, ask first. The answer will always be yes but we need to know when you plan to be out there."
Lena really felt for her daughter as a look of incredulousness crossed her features. This was going to test Callie's level of maturity and understanding, and she could already tell by the reaction that it would be a learning curve. But it was a lesson she and Stef both felt needed to be learned, badly. Callie needed to learn that running away wasn't ever a solution, and to trust that regardless of what she did, they wouldn't give her away.
"Mama…no. That's not fair," Callie argued, although without her usual spiritedness. True, she'd gone behind their backs and broken a rule but she couldn't help but be angry that she was being punished for telling the truth. Had she kept her mouth shut, Stef and Lena would've never known. "It's not fair," she repeated as the ache of disappointment rose in her chest. This was worse than being grounded, and the fact that she'd been so close to having her freedom back made the failure hurt so much more.
"I'm so sorry, Cal. I know it feels that way," Lena empathized. "But that's what Mom and I are comfortable with right now."
As hard as it was, she stopped herself from defending their decision beyond that. She could see how much difficulty Callie was having with it—how confused she was—because the real issue was that Callie didn't believe she deserved consequences for something she had been upfront about. But that wasn't how trust and accountability worked. Callie needed to learn to stop fighting them on everything and get used to accepting that as her parents, they called the shots because they had her best interests at heart.
"I didn't have to tell you about it," Callie snapped, a hint of bitterness to her words. "You guys wouldn't have ever known!"
Lena winced. "You're right, you didn't have to tell us. Had you not, we wouldn't have found out right away. But I think it would have come out eventually," she corrected. "So you might not agree now, but you absolutely did the right thing by telling us and we're so proud of you for that," she praised, hoping that would be enough to prevent the discussion from devolving into an argument.
"I was almost done..." Callie said dejectedly, referring to her initial grounding. Now she had to start all over again.
"You were," Lena agreed. "But it's not going to be so bad. Oh, honey, it's going to be okay," she consoled as her daughter burst into tears. "It is going to be just fine."
Her sympathy was mixed with slight amusement. In the grand scheme of things, this wasn't a huge deal—but for Callie, who wasn't used to someone else calling the shots, it was. The crying subsided almost as soon as it had begun—reassuring her that while her daughter was unhappy with the consequence and trying to get out of it, she was alright.
"I guess, I kinda like spending time with you guys," Callie admitted once she had calmed down. Lena wouldn't change her mind, that much she knew.
"Is that so? Careful or we will think of something else," Lena said as the girl cracked a smile, eyes still wet from making initial grievances known.
"No! No, this is fine," Callie back-pedalled, immediately becoming serious.
This time, Lena coughed to stop herself from laughing—both relieved and thankful that a bit of humour had managed to turn the situation around so quickly. "One more thing. It's okay, this is more of a suggestion," she said, seeing Callie give her a worried look. "Eavesdropping or not, the next time you hear something that doesn't sit well with you, I want you to think about coming to Mom or I with it. No more keeping things to yourself," she said, perturbed by the thought that Callie had felt unwanted for so long. "I just wish you'd let us in, honey."
The girl's complete honesty when she replied was endearing.
"But, Mama? Sometimes…sometimes, it's hard to ask for what you don't know you need," she said in a small voice, sniffling as she wiped her face.
"That's very perceptive, honey. You're right, it is hard," Lena echoed, impressed by Callie's self-reflection. "All we ask is that you try to take that first step of telling us when something doesn't sit right with you. We will talk about it and can help you with the rest. You're not alone in figuring out what you might need," she reassured. "Because you're not. You're not alone."
"How is that settling for you?" Lena asked as she cleared away the half-eaten bowl of veggie soup from the coffee table. The diminished appetite was concerning; Callie usually finished whatever was offered so she probably wasn't feeling her best if she was picking at her food. But apart from that and a slight fever, Callie was mostly herself. Her voice had even bounced back after hydrating, putting to rest initial worries that this was the flu, or worse, strep throat. It was a far cry from the time Jude had hid that he was sick from them, only to have been sent home within a hour of arriving at school when he threw up all over himself.
"Good. Thanks, Mama," the girl replied distractedly, craning forward to keep her eyes trained on the TV. Her screen time had pretty much been non-existent over the last couple weeks so she was surprised when Lena suggested a movie marathon. If being ill granted an exemption of sorts, she needed to soak it all in before she got better.
Perching on the coffee table so she could face her daughter, Lena put the disposable plastic shield on the digital ear thermometer. She juggled the device in one hand while expertly clamping a hand over her daughter's forehead. Callie fidgeted under the contact, causing a read error that had her start over. "Stay still, please. Almost done," she murmured, glad that the skin felt cool to the touch as she waited for the temperature to register.
100.8°. Low grade, but still a bit of fever.
Hoping Callie might be more willing to engage, she paused the movie. Something had crossed her mind that she thought could explain why the situation yesterday—which her wife had affectionately dubbed The Great Toast Incident of 2013—had escalated the way it had. Something that could have potentially added a whole other layer to Callie's fears.
"Wait," Lena sighed as the girl immediately grabbed the remote from her. She felt guilty enough for allowing so much screen time today that she could do without the instant withdrawal signs. "I want to talk to you for a second." She removed the remote from Callie's hand to redirect and was relieved when she gave it up willingly.
Callie gave her the side-eye. "Why?" she demanded suspiciously. They had talked all morning!
"Excuse me?" Lena asked, raising an eyebrow at the abrupt question. "Manners," she reminded, before letting out another sigh. Knowing she needed to respond to her daughter's wariness, she moved beside her on the couch and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I've been meaning to check in with you about the other night. I heard you had a pretty bad dream."
"Yeah, but, I'm okay," Callie said dismissively, embarrassed by the reminder. In the days following, her memory of the nightmare had slowly returned. Some parts remained patchy, but she was able to recall most of it now. Just not what had lead up to her standing in front of the open front door.
"Mom mentioned you were telling her about what it was like at one of the homes you and Jude lived in. That you had dreamt about something that happened there," she said, being transparent about what she knew.
Wanting to avoid triggering Callie, she asked for permission before delving any further into the topic. "Can you tell me about it?" She held breath as her daughter bit her lip, thinking of her response. After last night, though, she was less worried about if Callie would talk. She sensed that something had shifted with her daughter, who was starting to grasp that openness would, more often than not, be helpful.
Out of instinct, Callie balked but surprised herself by agreeing after a quiet moment had passed. "Yeah. When we were with this lady for like a month."
"Val?"
"Mhm. Jude was in kindergarten and we were at the same school so we walked together everyday." She laughed bitterly, remembering the backdrop to what had gotten them ousted from that home. "Mom really liked walnuts. Like, really, really liked them. She always had to buy them whole because they were cheap that way," she shared. "She'd get Jude and me to wedge one in the door and she'd close it slowly so they'd crack open."
Lena frowned, not understanding where this was going. "That sounds fun…" she said as Callie smiled, genuinely appearing at peace at being able to revel in the memory.
"One day on the way home, the corner store had them on the stand outside." Feeling a chill go down her spine at the prospect of having to repeat what had happened, Callie sank into Lena's side and curled her legs to her body. She marvelled at how echoey the woman's breaths sounded with her ear pressed against her shirt.
It was a while before she was brave enough to continue, but when she did, she considered how lucky she was that she wouldn't have to do it alone because she finally had people she could rely on.
The whole thing had been stupid. "Jude didn't even like walnuts but he wouldn't let up asking for them. I...I thought that maybe he missed her so I took a few. He'd been kinda sad about her so I thought we could do the same thing to cheer him up." She held her breath, hoping Lena wouldn't react badly. After all, she had stolen.
"So she was upset with you for stealing?" Lena questioned. She was incredulous; not that she condoned stealing in any form but this seemed like a very innocent mistake.
Callie shook her head. "No. For after," she whispered, chewing a hangnail on her ring finger to distract herself from her nerves. Somehow, it always felt like it'd come back to life if it was repeated. Maybe it was a fear of reprisal—that somehow, it'd get back to Val and she would get hurt again. Or a worry that Stef and Lena wouldn't believe her, or worse, tell her it was her fault.
Feeling her daughter tense beside her, Lena readjusted the blanket so that she could tuck it over and around Callie's shoulders. Her way of reassuring that it would be okay. Eventually, Callie spoke up again on her own.
"When we got back it was just us. We did it the way Mom used to, but then the wood under the hinge splintered. Val came home and…noticed the door wasn't closing properly and we had to line up so she could find out who did it. And I didn't want someone else to get trouble for it…and Jude had just gotten in trouble that morning for wetting the bed so I said it was me. That I broke the door."
Lena winced, noticing the blood pooling on the girl's finger where the skin had split. Carefully, she brought Callie's hand away from her face and wrapped a Kleenex around the digit, making a mental note that she would need to check her nails later.
"I guess, I didn't think it'd be so bad since it was an accident. But she said she was gonna punish me, anyway. I had to go to another room." Callie sniffed, bringing her other hand out from underneath the blanket to wipe at her nose which had started to run. She really wanted to avoid crying in front of Lena.
"Everyone heard, Mama." The feelings were every bit as raw now as they'd been then, and her chest tightened at the past humiliation. She remembered debating what was worse—getting beaten or the awareness that the rest of the house could hear it play out in real-time. "It hurt and I had to pee and couldn't go."
Val had made her stay there and she hadn't had the courage to use the adjoining bathroom so she'd held her bladder until school the next morning. It had burned when she was finally able to relieve herself. She remembered having to sleep on her side and how much it ached to sit up or sneeze—even walk—for days after. How she would straighten and watch herself whenever a teacher was nearby so they wouldn't notice her walking different to avoid making more problems for herself.
"I've had worse though," she quickly added, afraid that she'd made Lena uncomfortable. Not wanting her to worry, she forced a smile.
At hearing confirmation that the punishment had been physical, Lena drew in a measured breath, trying to match Callie's efforts to maintain composure. While she had already known how the story would end from what Stef had told her about Callie's behaviour during the night terror, it wasn't any easier to stomach. That protective instinct of her daughter's, which she had gotten a glimpse yesterday, had returned and was getting to her. Initially, she had assumed that the eerie calmness in Callie's voice was her way of making the encounter less of a reality by stripping her emotions from it. But now she was convinced that Callie was hiding how upset she was in order to be brave for her sake.
"She was super pissed about the door and was yelling into the phone after...like for a long time. I guess she was saying to Bill she couldn't have us anymore. We moved a few weeks later," Callie said in the same removed tone. She was crying softly now, noticeable only because she would intermittently bring a hand up to wipe her eyes. Apart from that, she stared straight ahead, willing the movie to play again.
Lena shook her head as she brought her daughter in closer. All this for a childish lapse in judgment. "I am so sorry that happened to you, Callie. Mom has probably already said this but I'm going to say it again. None of that was okay and I want you to know that something like that would never happen in our home. You know that, right?"
She had never been as relieved as she was when Callie indicated agreement with a subtle nod. While somewhat distracted, the girl seemed sure.
Determined to keep their dialogue going, she resumed the movie but turned the volume down several notches. Callie obviously wanted the distraction and she would oblige. "It's okay, you can watch," she said when met with a look of surprise. "Quietly so we can still hear each other when we're talking," she said, making that clear from the outset.
"I'm going to ask you something that might make you uncomfortable but I want you to think about it while remembering I'm right here," she said gently after a few minutes of the movie had played. "And that you can call a timeout if you don't want to talk anymore."
If something awful had happened to Callie when the door had broken, it made sense that she would have been afraid of a similar scenario replaying with Stef. And the broken items had likely triggered old fears when she was already on edge from the night terror.
A perfect storm.
But while she knew this, she wasn't sure Callie did.
"Okay," her daughter replied, most of her attention captured by Pixar. Slightly distracted but present enough.
"Do you think what happened in that home made you afraid of Mom?" According to her wife, Callie had reacted fearfully towards her right away when she found her in the kitchen, long before they'd come upstairs. That concerned the both of them.
Callie shook her head. There were times she'd been scared of the cop but it'd been a long time since she thought she would actually be harmed.
"Are you sure? Did you maybe think she would hit you because of the broken lamp?"
"No…" Callie said, drawing the word out as she considered what she was being asked. That worry had entered her mind for a split second, but it had been easy to remember that that didn't happen with Stef or Lena. They didn't beat anyone. But while she had been confident she wouldn't be hit, she definitely remembered being hit. "I was kinda scared," she admitted. "Not 'cause of that, though."
"It's completely normal to be afraid," Lena replied. The ambiguous answer had left her confused, however, about what her daughter had been afraid of.
In no way wanting Callie to feel guilt or shame over her feelings, she reached across the blanket and held her hand. "That was a scary thing to have happened to you, and it made me sad and scared to hear that you went through that," she validated.
Callie swallowed as her vision blurred. She had never talked to anyone else about the incident with Rigid Coleridge and she was relieved that Lena believed her and didn't blame her.
Trying to be intentional with her words, Lena paused. There had to be a reason for Callie's fear; she had clearly admitted to being afraid and Lena wanted to help her put a face to it. "Did Mom do anything that made you frightened? Was it her work clothes?" she suggested, remembering that Callie was wary of the police. Stef had gotten in later than usual yesterday and as a result, had stayed in her uniform until her shower. Perhaps that was why their daughter had had such a strong reaction towards her at the height of her meltdown.
"No."
Lena smiled at the stubborn annoyance that failed to convince her of its sincerity. She raised a knowing eyebrow at the girl, who quailed under her expression. "Sweetheart," she sighed.
Letting out a frustrated huff, Callie pulled the blanket up to the bridge of her nose before stealing a second glance at her foster mom. Obviously, Lena wasn't going to let this go, which sucked because all she wanted to do was to watch Ratatouille. It was rare to get a movie all to yourself and she wanted to savour every moment, not miss things because Lena wanted to talk about feelings. "She doesn't look like herself in that thing," she muttered. Feeling her cheeks burn, she gave a small shrug.
"Okay. Was there anything else?" Lena asked. She would be talking to Stef about that again.
Safely hidden behind the warm throw, Callie tried to sort out her words. These questions were making her uncomfortable. The truth was she'd panicked last night because she had thought of Coleridge; not only of what had happened but what might happen if she got transferred to another placement. Because up until their huge fight yesterday, she had still believed that Stef no longer wanted her to stay with them. But, embarrassed by the way she had acted, she didn't want to revisit the topic and shook her head emphatically. "Dunno. I just…I remembered...stuff." Shuddering, she snuggled up closer to the woman, wishing Lena wouldn't pry anymore. "But I reminded myself I was here and not there."
"That's right, honey. You are not there," Lena said, resting her chin atop the mophead of hair to show her daughter she had her undivided attention. Without meaning to, Callie had validated her theory of a visceral reaction being triggered when old wounds reopened.
The girl nodded, happy to be reminded of that fact. "I don't want to talk anymore."
Lena opened her mouth before remembering her promise that a timeout could be called at any time. To go back on that would not be helpful in nurturing Callie's willingness to be open with them, which was—although looking hopeful— still in early days.
"Okay. We don't have to talk about it anymore," she relented, "but maybe we could try again later with Mom.
"Can we try again later?" she repeated when Callie didn't respond.
"Mm. Later."