Chapter 27.

Callie

The day after Stef came home from the hospital, Brandon drove Sophia and I to our first group therapy session. We got there a little late, and he walked us into the building. "You guys gonna be okay?" he asked.

I looked over at Sophia. I think not having Stef or Lena bring us overwhelmed her a little. "Yeah. We'll be fine." I put my hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

He nodded. "Okay. I'll be out in the car listening to music if you need to find me. Good luck." He gave me one of his cute, crooked smiles. I caught him smiling at me like that a lot. It always made my heart race, and then I had to remind myself that I'd sworn off boys and dating. But I'd definitely noticed how handsome Brandon was, and I liked the way he noticed me. I couldn't help but think that maybe if things were different; if he wasn't my foster brother, and I wasn't fucked up beyond repair, we could have been a thing.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"Well, see you later," he said, turning toward the door.

Rita emerged from a door and smiled. "Hi, girls. I'm glad you came to join us. Come on in. We're just getting started."

"You ready, baby?" I asked my sister.

"Yeah," she said, grabbing my hand. Rita held the door open for us, and we went in.

A bunch of teenagers sat in a crooked circle in the meeting room, talking among themselves. They quieted down when we came in. "Kids," said Rita. "These are our newest members, Callie and Sophia Jacob. I know we're all happy to have them with us." She placed a hand on each of our shoulders. "Do you girls want to tell us a little about yourselves, and why you're here?"

I felt the color drain from my face. Sophia picked at lint on her sweater, as if it consumed all her attention.

"No?" Rita smiled. "Well, that's fine. Go ahead and take these seats right here." She gestured to the two plastic chairs next to her seat and waited until we sat down.

My eyes glazed over as the group began. I touched my pocket, feeling my phone inside. My fingers itched to play with it, but I knew Rita wouldn't allow that, and would maybe even take it away. I looked around at the other kids; there were maybe ten of them. Soph was clearly the youngest in the group. The rest were closer to my age.

"Since Callie and Sophie weren't here before, I was thinking maybe we could each take a minute to introduce ourselves," Rita suggested. "Bring them up to speed. Everyone up for that?"

There were some halfhearted mumbles from the group, and then one by one, the other kids said their name and age, and talked a little bit about why they were in group. Most of them had a family member who died of cancer, or something like that. One girl's older sister died in a drunk driving accident. I felt Sophia tense up next to me as she talked about it. It hit too close to home.

Finally, the introductions circled back to us. "Girls..." Rita said gently.

I knew she wasn't going to give up. I took a deep breath. "I'm Callie, and I'm sixteen," I said quietly. Sophia was sitting stiffly, giving me a desperate look. I sighed. "And this is Sophia. She's twelve." I turned to Rita, trying to tell her how uncomfortable we were with my eyes. She must have gotten the message, because she nodded and let it go.

I couldn't tell you what the group talked about after that. I sort of tuned it out. Fifteen minutes before the session ended, Rita put a relaxation CD on for us to listen to. A woman's voice guided us through some deep breathing exercises, set to new-age-y music. Finally it was over, and she dismissed us. The other kids filtered out of the room.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Sophia told me quietly.

"Okay," I said. "Go ahead."

When I was alone, Rita approached me. "I heard from Lena that Stef was hurt," she said.

I nodded. "Yeah. She... she was shot."

Rita shook her head. "That's terrible. How's everyone holding up?"

"Good, I guess," I replied, honestly. "She's home now."

"And what about you, sweetheart?" she pressed. "I know that Stef is very special to you. You okay?"

My eyes stung, but I no tears came. "I'm fine. I- I finally told her I love her. Lena too."

Rita grinned. "That's great, honey. I'm proud of you!"

"Thanks," I said, glancing toward the bathroom door. Finally Sophia came out. "Well, Brandon's waiting for us," I said. "Bye."

"Bye," said Rita. "See you next week."

When we got home, Lena was in the kitchen, making lunch. "Do you need help with anything?" I asked her. The day before, she'd taken Brandon and I aside and told us that since we were the oldest, she's be needing us to help out a lot while Stef was recovering.

She paused. "There is something you could do, actually," she smiled. "Thank you, sweetheart." She took a glass from the cupboard and filled it halfway with water. "Stef already ate, and she's taking a nap. If you don't mind, please go up and wake her, and remind her to take her antibiotics."

"Okay," I nodded, taking the glass from her. I went upstairs and stood in the bedroom doorway, watching Stef sleep for a minute; she'd been sleeping a lot, because of the pain meds. She was laying on her back; her hips were propped up with pillows because the wound needed to be elevated above her heart for at least part of the day, and her middle was wrapped with bandages that needed to be changed regularly. She didn't look very comfortable, but at least she was home, where we could see her and hear her voice. At least she was alive. That was all that mattered.

"Stef?" I finally said, going over to the bed. She didn't wake up. I decided to get a little bolder. "Mom?" The word still sounded strange to say, and came out in a choked whisper, but it felt good. I rubbed her arm gently, and spoke up a little louder. "Mom!"

Finally, Stef's eyes blinked open. "Oh. Hi, baby," she said in a thick, groggy voice.

"How are you feeling?" I asked her.

"I've been better," she smiled. "But I'm okay."

"Mama wanted me to remind you to take your antibiotics," I explained.

"Thanks, honey," she smiled. "Could you please help me up?"

I set the glass on the nightstand and I helped her sit up. She opened the bottle of horse pills on the nightstand and swallowed one. I watched her carefully; her cheeks were flushed, and her blond hair was tangled at her neck, loose and snarled.

"Do you want me to braid your hair?" I asked her. I wanted her to have some dignity while she was recovering. She had a lot of pride, and I knew it was hard for her to let everyone help her with everything, from sponge baths to getting to the bathroom. She deserved to at least look neat and clean. "My mom used to braid Sophia's and my hair when we were sick, so it wouldn't get messy when we tossed and turned.

Her eyes lit up a little. "My mom used to do the same thing. I had really long hair when I was a little girl."

"So did I," I said. "But when I went into the system, my first foster mom cut it short, so it would be easier to take care of." I remembered being upset about losing my long hair. I cried the whole time it was getting cut, watching the hair fall on the floor.

"I would love for you to braid my hair for me," she said, reaching out to squeeze my hand.

Nodding, I got her brush and comb and some hair ties from her dresser. Then, I carefully sat behind her and started to work through the knots, as gently as possible, starting from the bottom. When her hair was smooth, I fixed it into two french braids. "There," I said, twisting the last hair tie. "Beautiful."

Stef reached up and touched her hair. "That feels so much better."

"Do you want me to let you rest now?" I asked, preparing to leave.

She frowned for an instant. "Actually, I'm feeling a little lonely. Would you mind staying for a bit?"

"No," I said. "I don't mind." I sat down on the edge of the bed. "I could read to you, or we could watch TV or something?"

"That all sounds nice, baby," she said, patting my hand. "But I'm tired. These pain meds knock me through a loop. I'd rather just snuggle with you right now."

"Okay," I nodded. "That sounds good."

She held up her arms. "Get over here and give me a hug."

Smiling, I crawled into bed beside her and gently put my arms around her. We held each other the best we could, without hurting her wound. Laying there, I rested my cheek against her chest; I could hear her heart beating in my ear, and it reminded me of how close we came to losing her, and how lucky I was to be laying next to her. My own heart filled with love for her; love that I wasn't afraid to express anymore.

She leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of my head. "I love you, slug-a-bug," she told me, almost as if she could read my thoughts.

"I love you too," I said, curling up a little closer. Saying it back was starting to feel more natural.

"Where's Sophia?" she asked me.

"She's downstairs, watching TV," I told her.

"That's good," she said. "Hey, today was your first day of group. How was it?"

"Weird," I admitted. "I don't like talking about personal thing to strangers."

"I know," she said. "But it's good for you, so you stick with it, slug-a-bug."

"I will," I promised. I reached up to touch my nose, rubbing the smooth bridge. "There was a girl there. Her sister died that same way our mom did."

"That's sad," Stef said.

Nodding, I stroked my nose again, resting my thumb against my upper lip.

"Why do you do that, honey?" Stef asked me.

I looked over at her. "Do what?"

"I've noticed you rubbing your nose a lot. Does it itch?"

I blushed a little. "Oh. No. It's just, um, something I've done since I was little. I used to suck my thumb and rub my nose whenever I was worried or scared."

"Aww." Stef smiled. "That's sweet."

"My dad hated it," I said, laughing a little. "He was always telling me to act like a big girl."

"I wish I could've seen you as a baby," Stef confided. "I bet you were a cutie pie. Of course, you're still cute." She pressed a kiss to my cheek. "And even if I didn't know you back then, you're still my little girl."

I had an idea just then. "Mom?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"I'll be right back, okay."

"Okay," she said.

I slipped off the bed and went to my room, then opened the closet. Behind mine and Sophia's clothes, there was a shoe box off things we took with us when we went into the system; things that hadn't been lost, or stolen, or broken. Once in a while, we looked through them, so we could remember the good memories we had, before all the bad ones began. I knew there were pictures in it somewhere.

I found the small stack of snapshots at the bottom of the box. Sitting down on the closet floor, I started to flip through them. My chest ached and my eyes filled with tears. There was a picture of me on my third birthday, sitting in a Little Mermaid bounce castle. I remembered that day. I remembered how happy I was. Of course, the next year's birthday was even better, because Sophia had been born four days before. She was the best present I ever got.

I looked at more pictures until I found the one I wanted. It was of me as a newborn, taking my first bath. I smiled, then stood up and brought it back to Stef's room. I handed it to her. "I thought you might like to see this."

She studied the picture for a long time. "Honey, is this you?"

"Yeah," I nodded, sitting down.

She smiled. "Look at all that dark hair and those chubby cheeks." I snuggled up next to her again, looking at the picture with her. "You were a beautiful baby," she told me, passing the picture back to me.

I stopped her. "No, mom. I want you to keep it."

To Be Continued