Chapter Text
“Wait, Anne,” Cathy says as we walk out of the building we had just spent the past two hours in.
“Yes, dear?”
“Wasn’t that our last class?”
I stop walking to think. “Oh my god, you’re right!”
Cathy gasps. “We can be foster mommies now!” She begins to jump up and down excitedly. We had decided quite some time ago that we wanted to be foster parents, and it had taken just over a year to complete all the requirements.
“You know what this means?” I ask once we are in the car.
“Ice cream?” Cathy’s eyes light up like a little kid.
“No. Well, maybe. I was thinking more along the lines of an IKEA trip to finally pick out the bed for the kids’ room.”
Cathy claps her hands. “Yes! But first, ice cream?”
I roll my eyes, causing Cathy to begin to pout. “Oh, alright.” I turn on the car.
Once Cathy had had her coffee-flavored ice cream (“You have a problem- no, two problems,” I always say) and was dangerously sugared up, we decide that it is time to take on IKEA. The issue isn’t what to get, it’s which one to get. We already know that bunk beds are a good idea for the room, but Cathy is indecisive. Hopefully, the sugar from the ice cream will speed up her thought processes.
“Well, I don’t really want the child to have to sleep on a twin bed…” Boy, was I wrong.
“Cathy, honey, they don’t have that here!” I am starting to get irritated. “Not unless you want a loft bed.”
“That would be fine…”
“Thank god!”
“...but what if they have a fear of heights? Or what if there’s two kids?”
“Oh my goodness, you’re impossible. Just pick one. I don’t think we have the space for anything but twin beds anyway.”
Cathy sighs. “I guess you’re right.” She takes another look around this section of the store. She finally decides on bunk beds with a dark wood frame. She picks out gray bedding, since we’re trying to keep the room more on the gender-neutral side, decoration-wise.
After we arrive home (and Cathy “helps” me put the beds together), she turns to me. “Annie,” she says, having recovered from her sugar rush, “do you think we’re ready?”
“I think we’re about as ready as we can get,” I reply.
“But...what if they have panic attacks?”
“Kit has had panic attacks and anxiety as long as I can remember, and I had a couple pretty bad ones when I was little. I think we’re covered on that.”
“What about food allergies?”
“We can read nutrition labels. Don’t get your panties in a twist, we’ll figure this out.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m nearly positive,” I say.
It was only a couple of days before we were pulled from a late-night-movie-induced trance by the sound of a phone.
Cathy is the one to get up from the couch and go find whichever phone is ringing. She comes back with my phone in her hand and holds it out to me. I fumble with it for a bit before actually answering it. “H’lo?”
“Uh, hello, is this the...Aragon-Seymour-Parr household?” the woman on the other end of the line asks.
I chuckle. “Yes, Anne speaking.”
“Oh, fabulous. Is your partner nearby?”
“Yes, my wife is right here. Should I put you on speaker?”
“I would consider that a good idea.” I press the button to put her on speakerphone.
“Alright, we can both hear you now.”
“Okay. Now, don’t scream, I’ve got children here that would probably like to sleep, but we have an emergency placement for you if you think you’re ready for a child.”
I look to Cathy, who nods. “We can be there within the next forty-five minutes, if that’s okay,” I say.
“Oh, yes, that’s absolutely perfect. I’ll see you then.” She ends the call.
Cathy turns to me. “Well,” she says. “I guess we’d better go, then?”
“Not yet,” I reply, “because unlike you, I am not fully clothed.” I gesture to my bare legs.
“For the love of god, Anne, go put on some pants so we can get going!” Cathy sounds a mix of excited and frustrated, so I decide that it’ll be safest not to argue with her.
Once I put on a pair of shorts, I go downstairs and see that Cathy is already in the car. She doesn’t drive, at least she doesn’t like to, so naturally that leaves half-asleep me to the task.
When we finally pull up to the agency building, Cathy all but sprints inside while I turn off the car.
“Oh, good, you’re here. I spoke with you on the phone, I believe, my name is Maisie. I’m here when everyone else goes home and watch out for emergency placements. It’s a bit lonely, but I don’t really mind…” She trails off. “Anyway, I’m sure you’re ready to meet your placement. She’s on the older end of the foster care system, but she’s quite traumatized nonetheless. I’m afraid I’m not allowed to disclose the situation she’s come to us in. Be quiet, I think she might be sleeping.” Maisie opens a door into what seems to be a playroom, and I am about to ask where the girl is when I see a small blonde girl huddled in the corner, rocking back and forth.
I watch as Cathy goes to sit on the floor by the girl, who scoots away from Cathy. “Don’t,” I say softly when Cathy tries to move closer to the poor child. “Let me handle this. I know what it’s like.” I sit on the floor in front of her rather than next to her. “Hey…” I turn to Maisie. “What’s her name?”
“Oh, sorry, guess that slipped my mind! Her name is Joan.”
“Hey, Joan,” I say. “I’m going to put my hand on your shoulder, is that okay?” She doesn’t say no, but she also doesn’t give consent, so I don’t try to touch her. “Okay…” I try to think of other techniques I’ve used with Kit. “Um… How about this? Try to use my voice to ground yourself. You’re safe, okay? I want you to know you’re safe and that no one here is trying to or wants to hurt you. My name is Anne, and my wife Cathy is sitting on that chair. We want to take you to our house. We have lots of snacks for you to eat, and a nice warm bed to sleep in. Your bed has a fluffy blanket on it, and you have a bookshelf with lots of books on it if you like to read. Me and Cathy both like to watch movies, too. Do you feel better, or do you want me to keep talking?” Joan stops rocking and looks at me. I can see the fear and sadness blending together in her dark blue eyes. She can’t be older than ten.
Joan launches herself at me. She wraps her scrawny arms around my neck and holds on for dear life. The second I start rubbing her back, though, she’s off like a shot, in the corner again.
“Joan, honey, listen to me. I need you to focus, okay? I want you to focus on my breathing. I’m going to take one of your hands now...no? That’s okay, sweetie. Can you try to match my breathing? In slow, out slow. Ready?” Joan takes a few shuddering breaths along with Anne, her chest heaving. She bursts into tears.
“Joan, it’s okay. I want to help you, but I can’t unless you try. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, but you’ve gotta breathe for me.”
Joan chokes on her tears. “W-why? You’re j-just gonna h-h-hurt me like everyone e-else.”
“Joan, no, that’s not true. I don’t know what anyone told you, but you’re safe. Do you wanna go home now? I’m sure you’re tired.” Joan nods and holds out her arms to be carried. I’m not entirely sure I’ll be able to hold her, but she is very light. Cathy and I take her out to the car, and Cathy gets into the backseat with Joan, sleep almost instantly taking over both of their bodies.