Her eyes fly open. “My brother has a girlfriend?”
Wishing I’d kept my big, fat mouth shut, I issue a correction. “Nah. But he’s always tryin’.” His sister don’t need to know about what her brother gets up to with the club girls.
“I get it. Sorry for jumping to conclusions about you and Rick.”
“It’s all good,” I tell her. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Not at all. It’s only fair after the one I just asked.”
“Did you ever try to report your foster parents? I only ask because it sounds like you never got the chance to be a kid, with all the responsibility they heaped on you from an early age.”
“Yes,” she says. “I reported it a couple of times. CPS investigated and said everything was fine.”
Her hands ball into fists in her lap. I can tell she’s getting anxious remembering what happened.
“After each report, there were consequences for making up lies and wasting people’s time,” she continues. “I was grounded, not allowed to go to the library, and had food restrictions. Their anger even spilled over onto the younger kids. They stopped getting things they needed. They made sure I understood that it was because I made false allegations.”
Feeling anger rise in my mind, I ask, “Only, they weren’t false, right?”
“No, but after the second report, I stopped trying to talk about it,” she says. “Complaining never changed anything for the better. Also, I knew that in terms of foster placements it could have been a lot worse. At least they didn’t beat me or physically abuse me.”
Her words are so matter of fact that I know she’s telling the truth.
I hate that she put up with that shit, but I guess I understand. I force myself to respond calmly. “I suppose that makes sense. I just hate that no one stepped up for you.”
She nods. “Me too. You don’t look particularly surprised.”
“Foster care can be really good for some kind and hell for others,” I answer. “It all depends on what kind of foster care parents are involved.”
Rick’s voice cuts through the moment, calling for her from the doorway. She jumps to her feet and runs to the front door, leaving me sitting there dealing with my conflicting emotions.
Natalie might be young, but she’s a strong person to have endured that foster care home. Rick’s demand that she be off-limits was easier when she was just his sister. It’s more complicated now that she’s a person I understand and respect. I bury those feelings deep as I come to my feet. Rick deserves something good and pure in his life. And she deserves the security of having a big brother in her life. I can give both by keeping an emotional distance from her, just like I promised.
“My arms are heavy with the best burgers in town,” he announces, kicking the door shut with his heel. “Come get ‘em while they’re hot.”
I can hear the warmth in their voices as they banter back and forth. Rather than only knowing each other for an afternoon, it’s as though they’ve known each other all their lives.
“You got a cake!” she exclaims.
“I figure we need to celebrate my baby sister,” Rick responds happily. “It’s white with a strawberry filling that I think you’re gonna love.”
“I’m sure I will, it looks delicious.”
I quickly move to the kitchen and take out plates and flatware. I’m just going to help them have a nice lunch and eat all the burgers my friend brought for me. With any luck, keeping my hands and mouth busy will somehow quiet my internal thoughts as well.
Natalie lights up with bright, unguarded happiness. She beams at him with genuine adoration when her eyes lift from the cake to Rick. “Thank you, Rick. You’re going to be the best brother ever. I can already tell that much from just spending a few hours together.”
Her nice compliment hits my friend square in the chest. A certain proudness shows as he walks into the kitchen.
“The strawberry filling is made with real fruit,” he says, jerking his chin towards the box. “With buttercream icing. The lady at the bakery said it was their most popular cake.”
Her hands come up to her mouth. “You didn’t have to go to that kind of trouble just for me.”
“I absolutely did,” he cuts in. “Sit, both of you. I’ll handle this.”
As I watch Rick move around the kitchen, dishing out our food onto plates and getting our drinks set up, I realize that my anxious, jittery friend is nowhere to be found. In his place is a prospect who’s moving around our shared space, surefooted and certain of his place.
For the first time ever, there is unhindered happiness and the sound of feminine laughter in our house. I might be totally mistaken, but this feels very much like a home, rather than just a landing pad. It feels like we’re living, instead of just existing.
