Page 30 of Unscripted with Mila

I frowned, reaching for her hand. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “I was pretty young, so my memories aren’t very clear.”

“Was she—” I had to swallow before asking “—abusive?”

“Not physically. She yelled a lot—I remember that. Ignored me. Refused to touch me unless she had to. She was far too busy trying to figure out how to score her next hit than worry about things like feeding me or keeping me clean. I recall being locked in a closet a lot. She used to forget to unlock the door at times.” Mila fidgeted a little.

I had to physically hold myself back. I could picture a baby Mila. Sweet, scared, locked in the dark. Lonely and afraid. Often the way I felt as an adult.

The list of things we had in common grew.

“I remember how it felt the first time Liv, my mom, gave me a bath. She sang to me, washed my hair. Dressed me in warm pj’s and tucked me in. Left a light on so I felt safe. I hated the dark back then. It felt so strange to feel clean. To be touched. I craved it.” She smiled sadly, looking at our hands. “I still do.”

I moved closer so our legs touched. I felt the warmth of her skin on mine, even with the material that separated us.

“So Liv and Van adopted you, and your life changed.”

“Yes. You never really outgrow the abuse. You put it behind you, you move on, but it lingers. I was always the smallest, the shyest at school. I never made friends easily. Even once I grew up and entered high school, I was still awkward.”

“I bet you were adorable. Sweet and shy, so pretty. What color was your hair?”

She frowned and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “This color.”

“That’s natural?”

“Yes.”

“It’s spectacular. I was sure you had it professionally done when I saw you earlier.”

“No. It’s just mousy brownish blonde. It never makes up its mind what color to be.”

I gaped at her. “It is anything but mousy. It’s like a sunrise. Golds, blondes, reds. All woven together. Beautiful.”

She looked truly startled. “Oh,” was all she said.

“You must know that.”

She shrugged. “My family says nice things. I guess I don’t see them.”

“I see them.”

She fiddled with the hem of her shirt. “Thank you.”

“So, back to school.”

“I hated school. I loved learning, but the rest of it…” She shook her head. “The kids, the bullies. Gym class was awful. I was picked on all the time. Called names. My episodes had started, so my activity was restricted. I wasn’t allowed to climb ropes or do some of the intense activities since we never knew when I’d go down. I spent a lot of time on the bench or helping out. Kids don’t like it when you’re different. And they pick on what they don’t know.”

“You were bullied.”

“I was ostracized. Bullied from afar. My brother and sister defended me when they could. I think if Reed could have stayed and gone to classes with me, he would have. It was easier when they were around.” She smiled. “Reed and Sammy were often dragged into the principal’s office for defending me. I think they had my parents on speed dial. But eventually, the bullies got tired of me and ignored me. I was fine with that. I didn’t care about their parties or social cliques. Who was dating whom. I put my head down and worked. Got good grades. Made it through those awkward years.” She looked sad for a minute. “Luckily, I had a couple of good friends, and we looked out for one another. When we moved to Port Albany full time, it was easier. I had some cousins at school with me, and they watched out for me too.”

“Cousins?”

She explained her family dynamics to me, and I shook my head. “I can’t even imagine. All those people? All those families coming together as one? Living in the same place?”

“It happened slowly. More of us live there now. Most of the parents have retired to Port Albany. Lots of us live in the complex. Some come and go. Others are married with families of their own and come visit often. There is always someone around.”

“Wow.”