Finding Home

Nightmares-Pt 2

“Lily…how long have you been here? “Ummm…” I opened my hands, quickly doing the math before scoffing. “Believe it or not, going on eleven years. November 5th 2013…three days before my fifth birthday.” I nodded my head, as if confirming the information. I felt tears inch towards the surface and blinked them back, refusing to let them escape.

I watched as Kaitlyn nervously fiddled with her hands, moving around uncomfortably in her seat before replying. “Lily…you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but have you had any families yet?”

I let out a deep breath, “Seven.”I chuckled, although there really wasn’t anything funny about it.

Kaitlyn’s eyebrows lifted. “Seven?”

“Yep.”

“That’s…a lot.”

“I know.”

For a moment neither of us said anything.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the quiet music playing from somewhere in the house.

“Can I ask you what it was like?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“It’s just…” She paused, searching for the right words. “I’ve always wondered what it was like to leave here and go live with other families.” She looked down at her hands. “Especially when you end up back here in the end.”

Something about the way she said it made my chest hurt. But I knew exactly what she meant. Leaving was supposed to be the happy ending. That’s what everyone told us.

You get placed with a family. You leave the girls’ home. You get a bedroom of your own. You get a family who loves you. And then you never come back. At least, that was how it was supposed to work.

But nobody ever talked about the girls who did come back. The ones who had to pack their things all over again and walk through those same doors carrying a trash bag full of clothes.The ones who had to see the same faces staring back at them. The ones who had to find their old bunk again.

I had become very good at finding mine.

“Yeah,” I finally said. “I mean, by the time I came here, I had become pretty introverted. I barely spoke to anyone, and my main goal was just to stay out of the way.”

Kaitlyn nodded slowly.

“Mrs. Porter said that it was because of everything that I experienced before I came here.” I frowned. “Not that I could tell you what she meant.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t remember much from before.”

Kaitlyn’s expression changed. It wasn’t pity. At least I didn’t think it was. It was more like curiosity mixed with concern.

“You don’t remember?”

“Not really.”

I looked down at my hands.

“Sometimes I remember things. Mostly I remember feelings.”

Kaitlyn tilted her head.

“What kind of feelings?”

“I don’t know.” I laughed quietly. “That probably sounds stupid.”

“No.”She shook her head. “It doesn’t.”

I stared at the floor.

“Sometimes I remember being happy. Sometimes I’m scared. Sometimes I remember my mom crying.” I hesitated. “And sometimes I remember my dad. But I can’t see his face.”

“Maybe you were too young.”

“Maybe.” I wanted to believe that. But something about it never felt right. It wasn’t like his face was just blurry. It wasn’t like I could almost see it if I tried hard enough.

There was just…nothing.

Every time I tried to picture him, I could see everything else. His hands. His clothes. His truck. His smile. The way his arms felt around me. But never his face. It was like someone had taken a picture of my childhood and carefully erased just one person from it.

I shook my head, trying to push the thought away. “Anyway,” I said, “you wouldn’t believe some of the families I had.”

Kaitlyn smiled slightly. “Try me.”

I laughed. “Some of the things they did…” I shook my head. “I struggle to believe it actually happened.”

“And you were there?”

“Unfortunately.”

She laughed. “Okay. Start with the first one.”

“The first one?”

“Yeah.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Tell me about them.”

I stared at her for a moment. I had never really told anyone the whole story. Not all seven. The staff knew, obviously. They had files. Reports. Interviews. But those were different.

Those were words written down on paper. Facts. Dates. Names. Reasons. Nobody had ever asked me what it felt like. I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer. But Kaitlyn was looking at me like she actually wanted to know.

“After living here for only a few weeks, I was taken in by the Michaelsons. They were a sweet couple. At least, that’s how I remember them.

I don’t remember much from those first few weeks that I lived here at the girls home, but I remember their house. It had yellow walls and a little white porch with two rocking chairs. There was this garden in the backyard that Mrs. Michaelson took care of, and she let me help her water the flowers.

I remember thinking that maybe this was what having a family was supposed to feel like, you know? Warm. Safe. Normal.

After a couple of months, they found out they were pregnant. I remember Mrs. Michaelson sitting me down on the couch and holding my hands and smiling when she told me that there was going to be a baby.

I remember being so excited. I asked if it was going to be a boy or a girl, if I could help them pick out clothes, if I could hold the baby. She said yes to all of it. What she didn’t say was that I wouldn’t be there when the baby came.

A few weeks later, I was back here. I didn’t understand it, I kept waiting for someone to come back, but they didn’t.” I took a deep breath and let it out.

“Did you ever find out their reason? Why they brought you back?” Kaitlyn asked, quietly.

“Not really, but I think it was because they never wanted an older kid anyway. They wanted a newborn, so once they got one, they no longer wanted me.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Anyway, I was here for a few months before I found out another family wanted to take me in. The Hayes family.

They already had three kids and lived in this huge house where everyone had their own room. Even me.

My bedroom had these pretty blue walls and a bed with a fluffy white comforter. I remember lying in that bed on my first night and staring at the ceiling. I remember thinking, Maybe this is it. Maybe I finally had a place to stay.

I was wrong. After about a month, they sent me back here. They said they couldn’t afford another kid.” I scoffed and shook my head. “Apparently, they didn’t figure that out before they took me in.”

Kaitlyn gave a small laugh, but it disappeared almost immediately. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I shrugged. “It’s not like I can change it now.” I had learned that lesson pretty young. You can’t make people keep you. You can’t make people love you. And you definitely can’t make a family become your family just because you want them to.

“By six,” I continued, “I went to live with the Barrows.” I smiled slightly. “They were the kind of family you see in movies. Family dinners. Game nights. Birthday parties. They had pictures everywhere.” I looked down at my hands. “There was even one of me.”

Kaitlyn’s eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “They took it on my first week there. All of us were sitting on the front porch.” I smiled faintly. “But I didn’t realize then that every time they introduced me to someone, they would say I was their foster kid who was staying with them for a little while.” I swallowed and I looked toward Kaitlyn. “They would seem almost offended if someone called me their daughter.”

Kaitlyn’s expression fell.

“I didn’t understand it back then.” I shrugged. “I was only six. I thought foster kid and daughter were basically the same thing.” I gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “I didn’t know there was a difference.”

I took a breath. “They were great at hiding it back then, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to put the pieces together.”

I kept going, telling her a little about Johnsons and the Sampsons. Not going into as much detail as the others. Those were memories I preferred to keep blocked out. Nothing good ever came from being in their homes.

After them came the Williams family. That placement was another seemingly perfect match. For a while, I actually believed it.

I was getting older by then, so I understood more. I knew what it meant when someone introduced me as their foster daughter. I knew that being loved didn’t necessarily mean being kept.

But I still hoped, and that’s the most difficult thing. Hope can keep you going. And it can also hurt more than anything when it disappears. Before I knew it, I was right back here.