Baggage

Warning: This story contains sensitive content

Baggage

I already hate this place! Kim screamed inside her head, slouched in the back seat. Beside her lay a ragged duffel bag, containing her few treasured possessions. Having packed in a hurry, Kim hadn't had time to grab anything much, certainly nothing of value.

"Kim, did you hear me? I explained how your nw home is just for girls." Mrs. Winston sighed from the front, already worn out after another hectic day. Trying to show patience, she continued, "I know you're unhappy. Your mom's in good hands. Now, we'll be there shortly, you'll meet your new family."

They're not my family! Shut up. Kim hissed silently. She began kicking the lady's seat, venting her anger on the social worker. What right did you have to take me away from my Mom? She demanded.

Choosing to ignore her tantrum, Mrs. Winston drove on, Taylor and Rhianna singing about heartbreak in the background. Down a tree-lined road, still the kicking continued, unabated. "Okay, you can stop now. We've arrived." Mrs. Winston said, turning around to face the hostile girl.

Mutely, Kim climbed out of the car, still clutching her bag. She followed the woman up the snow-covered sidewalk, passing a decorated snowman in the yard. A wreath hung on the door, and a beaming plastic Santa stood nearby.

Quite the welcome! Mrs. Winston smiled. She knocked, a bell chimed from inside. A face appeared in one of the windows, and a moment later, the door opened. "Hi." A girl grinned. Beside her, a woman spoke. "I'm Ms. Ruth. You must be Kim. Glad you're here." Extending her hand, she smiled; however, Kim ignored the gesture.

"I'm Lindsey." The little girl wearing a Christmas sweater also offered her hand. Then, Kim realized Lindsey's hand was slightly to the right, and that she wasn't looking at them dircttly. She's blind, just great! Kim said sarcastically. Still, that hand was ignored.

Pingshing past them, Kim strode silently into the living room, looking straight a head, the adults exchanging concerned glances.

"Nice decorations." Mrs. Winston said brightly, nodding at the tree and other festive knickknacks.

"I put the star on top." Lindsey volunteered, "Ms. Stacey plugged in the lights. Monica and Deirdre hung those ornaments." She continued, touching the lower branches. Throughout this recital, Kim remained expressionless.

"Are you thirsty? Hungry?" No response. "Very well. We have forms to fill out." Ms. Ruth said, gesturing for Mrs. Winston and Kim to seat themselves on the comfortable but worn sofa.

"Can Kim play with me?" Lindsey inquired, already heading towds the hallway.

"Sure. Kim, would you like that? You may stay if you want, but it'll be boring." Mrs. Winston was uncomfortable discussing the child's situation in front of them, so playing was preferred. It was better for children to interact quickly, the new child could start opening up.

"Come on." Lindsey tugged Kim's sleeve impatiently. To everyone's surprise, she went willingly, but still with that same blank expression.

In Lindsey's room, they sat cross-legged on the floor; Occupying Kim with toys, was pointless. There was Braille playing cards and games, like Tic-tac-toe, with tactile pieces.

"Hey." A girl entered limping, her metal leg brace rattling softly.

"Monica, this is Kim. This is my roommate."

Like before, Kim refused to make eye contact or accknowledge her in any way. "She's shy." Lindsey explained, scooting Connect Four out of the way.

"How was Lucy's?" Lindsey asked.

"Fine. We bought tons of stuff. She wants me to spend the night!"

Good for you! Kim's inside-her-head voice was sarcastic; glaring, she otherwise kept silent.

"Kim, I'm leaving. Let's see your room. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Mrs. Winston and Ms. Ruth appeared in the doorway.

"Monica, Katie, stay here. You know the rules." Ms. Ruth added, as they were about to follow. Ignoring their groans, Mrs. Winston and Kim followed Ms. Ruth down the hallway, past more doors. One had a sign declaring: Keep Out. Another had music blaring from it. Ms. Ruth explained about their "knock first before entering" rule" as they passed each bedroom. "This one's yours." The last one on the right, across from the bathroom. Go figure! Kim thought. "What do you think?"

I hate it! Kim said. I shouldn't even be here. Keeping silent, she walked into the room. Besides two beds, it contained a dresser, closet, desk and chair, and a window with a view of the back yard. With posters of teen pop stars on the walls, it was very attractive. One side was already occupied with another girl's belongings, so Kim knew she'd have to make do with the extra available space. "We'll leave you to unpack," Ms. Ruth said, "You'll meet Deirdre later." With those words, she and Mrs. Winston headed back downstairs, talking quietly.

 Plopping on the bed, she held another silent conversation with herself. Deirdre? My roommate? I don't want to live here. I want Mom. Why did you stick that needle in your arm, huh? And those pills were supposed to help with your moods. Right before Christmas, even. Did you even think about me? About where I'd end up?

As she'd dialed 911, she'd cried because they didn't have any ice which (she'd heard), could revive her Mom. The ambulance rid lasted an eternity, crawling through mid-morning traffic. Arriving at the hospital, Mom had been whisked away by a doctor. Sitting in the empty, dreaab waiting room hadn't helped. Not until a social worker came did she learn of her mom's coma.

Kicking her packed bag, she began hurling anything within reach across the room—her pillow, a hairbrush, her blanket. A framed picture came next. The family were smiling, the parents had their arms around one another.

"Hey, what the hell!" A girl cried, ducking out of the way. Fortunately, the picture missed its target and remained intact as it fell to the carpet. "Crazy girl, stop. That's my stuff." The girl standing angrily inside the room had braided hair, and was wearing a lacey dress, despite the winter temperature. This must be Deirdre.

"What's going on here!" Ms. Ruth's voice rang out, making Kim jump. Deirdre smirked. You're in trouble! Her expression said.

As Deirdre explained what had happened, Kim began clearing up the mess. "Kim, in this house, we don't throw other people's possessions! This is your first warning. Now, dinner's ready."

In the dining room with its long table, Kim was introduced to a woman with a bright smile. "Hi. I'm Ms. Stacey, a cook housekeeper. I don't do everything, you'll be expected to help, too. Understand?"

"She doesn't talk." Lindsey explained.

Sure I do. Kim said, Just don't feel like it.

Kim sat beside Lindsey on her left, Monica on her right. Deirdre sat a few seats down, near the end. Ms. Ruth took the last chair. "Everyone, this is Kim. Please make her feel at home." Ms. Ruth began serving the roast, macaroni with extra cheese, and corn bread.

"Kim, here's yours." Ms. Ruth plopped a steaming plate in front of her. Great! The macaroni's touching the roast! Kim complained, I can't eat this. I guess Mrs. Winston forgot to mention my alergy. She began eating her cornbread, and finished everything except the macaroni. It's really good, either that or I'm just hungry.

Seeing this, Ms. Ruth said, "I made yours with soy cheese." Whatever that is! Kim frowned.

"Can I have hers?" Monica asked, staring at Kim's plate.

"Go ahead, Kim!" Ms. Ruth encouraged. Devouring it, she thought this place might be survivable after all.

Next, everyone helped clear the table and wash up. Afterward, the girls were allowed to watch TV. Once the movie started, Kim noticed a voice was speaking when the actors weren't, describing their actions. In spite of herself, Kim's interest was aroused.

"It's called audio description!" Lindsey explained, "When Rina and Cindy watch movies, we always use closed captions." As the movie continued, Kim found everything distracting, and wished she were alone in her room.

Kim's first night was rough; twice, she paced the landing outside their room, Ms. Ruth resettled her. By the next morning, both girbbs were exhausted from lack of sleep, and short-tempered. As they ate, Deirdre crossly scolded, "Katie, stop slurping. That's disgusting." Kim ate her toast, ignoring the morning talk.

However, as soon as chores were completed, Kim found herself being caught up in the bustle of the day. "Let's make cookies!" Monica begged. Everyone joined in, finally Ms. Ruth and Stacey relented. "Kim, want to join us?" Shrugging, she allowed herself to be pulled into the kitchen. It soon became apparent that Ms. Stacey and Ruth were quite capable of handling kids. Everyone was assigned a task—finding ingredients and utensils, then preparing the batter. Still aching with loneliness and desperate for news of her ill mother, Kim merely went through the motions, like a puppet.

"Monica, put butter into this bowl, then crack these eggs. Kim, add the sugar." Ms. Stacey directed. Kim had the unpleasant job of creaming the sticky mess together—she'd never even seen a whisk before. Patiently, Monica demonstrated.

Beside them, the dry ingredients were being stirred. All were clearly impatient to lick the bowl. After everything was conbined, and the dough rolled into balls, it was placed on to cookie sheets.

 Not my fault I had a mom from hell! Kim scowled, scraping the remnants of meat loaf into a pile. "They don't adopt kids like us!" Monica declared, stamping her foot, her brace rattling with each word.

In bed wide awake, Kim wrote, holding nothing back. Baking was fun. The most cooking you and I ever did was frozen pizzas or TV dinners. Why couldn't we have been like a normal family? You left me to fend for myself too many times. I'd knock on the Johnsons' door, begging for food. Off you'd go with some man, saying it was "To go to work." I'm not stupid, I knew you were selling.

"How come you don't talk?" Deirdre's rather blunt question pushed its way into Kim's frantic scribbling.

Nothing to say to you, Kim replied, Just leave me alone.

Deirdre had other ideas. "You think you're the only one whose life sucks? You're not. We all got baggage. I'll be in care the rest of my life. Like Monica said, parents don't adopt teenagers." Deirdre said, emphasizing each word with a thump on her pillow. "Another thing, you don't have to hide that diary. I won't read it."

Shoving it under her pillow, she wasn't taking chances. Facing the wall, Kim forced her eyes shut, blocking out more unpleasant memories, and the tears which were now threatening to spill out.

The next morning, Deirdre brought up another forbiden subject. "What's in your bag, anyway?" She smirked, "It's under your bed."

What's it to you! Kim replied. Deirdre slowly walked towars it, but Kim was faster. Slap! Her eyes spoke plainly—touch this and you'll regret it.

"Sorry, just curious. You'll have to unpack sometime. Don't forget, you're in care forever." Deirdre rubbed her cheek, more stunned than anything. "When I got here, I came with nothing. I get your bag's special. Has your old life stuffed in it. You can keep it, just need to make room for new stuff."

After another restless night, Kim awoke defeated. While brushing her teeth after breakfast, she contemplated her situation. Mom was still ill, but would recover. I'd return to a life of hell, but at least it's familiar. Or, they'll remove me permanently, and I'd remain here. Or Mom could die. That final thought made Kim shiver. In either case, I'll still be in care, she thought.

In the living room with the others, tuning out their game of Uno, she brooded in a corner, thoughts miles away. An unexpected visitor halted the game. "Everyone to your rooms. Kim, Ms. Winston's here." Ms. Stacey said. To Kim, she whispered, "It's urgent."

"Hi. Enjoying Uno?" Ms. Winston entered, brushing snow off her coat. As they scattered, Kim had an uneasy feeling whatever the social worker was going to tell was probably about Mom.

She was right. "Kim, I have some upsetting news." Mrs. Winston perched on the rug beside Kim, who was staring at the flowered wallpaper. After a short pause, she continued, "Your Mom didn't make it. The doctors said she passed away this morning. I'm terribly sorry."

Rage coursed through Kim, hot rage! How dare you, Mom! I hate you! Fists clenched, eyes determinedly fixed on some yellow roses, she stubbornly refused to speak. Swallowing the lump rising in her throat, she felt what little happiness she'd had evaporate from her.

"There should be a funeral. The hospital can help with arrangements. A custody hearing will need to happen sooner rather than later."

"All this takes time," Ms. Ruth reassured Kim, "No need to rush.”

After Mrs. Winston's brief visit, Kim's emotions tumbled around inside her, fighting for release. First, there was anger at her Mom for committing suicide! Next came a terrible ache, knowing she'd lost her only parent, (inept though she'd been), and was now trapped in care. Most likely for a lifetime, like the others.

"What'd your social worker say?" Deirdre straightened her family photo on her dresser. That did it. Eyes flashing, Kim launched herself at Deirdre, pulling her hair. Stunned, Deirdre struggled to defend herself, with Kim punching anywhere she could reach. "Help, anybody." She screamed, dodging Kim's punches.

"Enough. Kim, get off her. Deirdre, what happened?" Ms. Stacey rushed in, breathing heavily. Surveying the room, she stepped between them.

"I didn't touch her stuff. For no reason, she attacked me!" Deirdre gasped, pointing an accusing finger at Kim. For her part, she remained silent; however, her face betrayed her. Crumpling into a ball on the bed, she sobbed uncontrollably into her hands.

"I'll take over now. Deirdre, dinner." She didn't need telling twice. Beating a hasty retreat, she sprinted from the room.

"You don't have to be alone here." Ms. Stacey squatted in front of Kim, "You understand?" Not expecting a response, she continued, "You've been through a lot recently. Let us in. We can help you." She rubbed the girl's stiff back.

Glowering, she flinched from Ms. Stacey's gentle touch. Suddenly, she began trembling uncontrollably. Sensing Kim needed care, Ms. Stacey sat with her, until her trembling stopped. "Better?" Nodding, Kim replaced her pillow on her rumpled bed. She opened her mouth as if about to speak, then clamped it shut. "Good. When you're ready, you may come to the table."

Dinner was more or less pleasant that evening. Everyone kept the conversation light. Monica and Lindsey chatted about their upcoming school year. "MY teacher said we'll have an important assignment coming up. It'll be a big part of our grade." Monica was explaining to Ms. Stacey.

The two roomates however, sat at opposite ends of the table, in frosty silence, deliberately ignoring one another. Deirdre leaned across to Lindsey instead, who talked about one of her classmate's plans for a sleepover that she wanted to be invited to.

"Kim, you're excused from chores tonight. You may go to your room." Ignoring the others' groans, Kim slid from her chair, food mostly uneaten. As she slipped out, she heard, "Kim's had a rough day. She's very unhappy."

Crouching down, Kim pulled out her bag from beneath her bed. Unzipping it, she stared at its meager contents. My whole life’s in here. She moaned. No longer able to stem the flow of tears, she wept—for her Mom whose life had ended so abruptly, and for herself, for getting in this situation! Who knew what lay ahead now!

"Sorry about your Mom." Deirdre whispered, pulling on pajamas. "We don't know all of it," She added hastily, "Only she died. That's tough. Mine died, too." She lay down, hands behind her head, facing Kim. "It was a fire. Mom had just put carpet down. Still not sure how it started. Killed everyone, even my dog. So, I get it."

Okay, maybe. It still hurts. Kim replied, staring at the ceiling.

After vacuuming their room the next morning, Ms. Ruth nodded to Kim. Sighing, she approached a still-tense Deirdre. Ms. Ruth motioned for one or the other to speak.

I'm not very sorry. Kim said. Stubbornly, she refused to give in aloud.

Knowing there wasn't much point in pressing Kim further, Ms. Ruthcontinued, "Okay. Kim, I'll expect an apology when you're ready. Understand?" She nodded, just a tiny imperceptible nod.

 "Sorry." Kim whispered as they prepared for bed.

Deirdre whirled around, brush in her hand. "You talked!" She exclaimed, gaping. Kim couldn't believe it either; she hadn't planned it, the word had simply slipped out.

"Wake up!" Lindsey's excited voice roused everybody from their beds bright and early Christmas morning. Emerging from her room, Ms. Ruth yawned, rubbing her eyes and straightening her robe. "Okay, since everyone's awake, we can open presents." Reluctantly, they all trouped in to the living room, still yawning.

However, once their eyes fell on the presents piled beneath the tree, the older girls' excitement grew. Even Kim managed a tiny smile, not expecting anything. As the presents were being distributed, she was surprised when Monica passed her a square-shaped package. Unwrapping it, Kim discovered a diary with a padlock. "So your thoughts have somewhere to go. Your friend, Deirdre." The accompanying note read. Wordlessly, the friends shared a look of warm understanding.

 Monica received a new book, and the latest Kelly Clarkson Cd. Lindsey unwrapped a set of Braille dice, and a jewelry-making kit. Ms. Ruth laugh in surprise when she unwrapped her present—a matching scarf and gloves set. Ms. Stacey unwrapped sweet-smelling hand lotion.

"Who wants breakfast?" Ms. Ruth called. Amidst the chorus of replies, Kim broke into a small but genuine smile. Time to begin a new day! She said.

The End