Perversion (Page 7)

He closed the file and tossed it onto the coffee table.

I stood up feeling restless. Angry. Those words written about me may have been true, but they were written by people who didn’t know me, who sent me from one shitty home after another, adding more and more diagnoses to my file along the way. As if those words would somehow help. As if they really knew anything about anything because they didn’t know shit about me.

“Sit the fuck down,” Belly ordered. He stared me in the eye and calmly repeated himself. “I said sit the fuck down.”

Marci pulled me down to the couch and held my hand as if she could stop me from running out the door. I guessed Emma Jean really did break something inside me because I didn’t immediately tug my hand away.

Belly leaned forward. “We’ve already read your file. The shit that’s in it? That’s not why we don’t want you here; that’s WHY you’re here. To the outside world it might look like a list of your problems, shit they want no part of, but to us?” He laughed and pointed to the file on the table. “Shit’s like the most beautiful fucking resume I’ve ever seen.”

I’m so fucking confused. I drained my glass of whiskey.

“It’s a good thing. I promise,” Marci assured me, giving my hand a squeeze.

Belly stood up, extending his hand to me. I shook it, and he held on firmly, as if trying to communicate all the reassurances he could through that handshake.

Sandy appeared in the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest and his feet at the ankles. He smiled wickedly, knowingly.

“Welcome to the family, Grim,” Sandy said.

Belly released my hand, spread his arms wide, and turned his palms upward in reverence.

“Welcome to Bedlam, son.”

Marci smiled. “Welcome home.”

Emma Jean Tricks,

You can keep the picture as long as you promise to keep it safe and also to give it back to me someday. The new place is a lot different, but I think it’ll work for me. Magic? Like card tricks? That’s fitting considering you’re a trickster and conned me into taking Mr. Fuzzy while stealing my wallet. That’s what I’ll call you.

Tricks.

And what’s got you so sad you need my picture to make you smile?

-T

Tristan,

Thank you for writing me back! You know that foster kid life is never fun. But let’s make a deal. I won’t talk about the bad stuff if you don’t. There’s enough bad stuff, but writing to you isn’t.

Tricks? I’ve never liked nicknames. Probably because the only ones I’ve ever been called have to do with my curly hair. Like Curly Sue. Medusa. Little Orphan Annie. So unoriginal. Plus, I do like my hair…like every other day. And yes, I love magic. Always have.

I guess conning people into doing stuff is just a bigger trick with a bigger rush. I can do every card trick. I can escape most knots. Oh, and I love quotes. I tape them to the wall of my room. And I’ve never told anyone this, but I also love writing stories. Mostly, fairytale type stuff.

Tell me a secret of yours? Something you’ve never told anyone else.

-Tricks.

PS-I love the name Tricks.

“We all have magic inside us.” -J.K. Rowling

Tricks,

You should like your hair every day. It’s unique, like you. You’ll have to show me those card tricks someday. Shuffling a deck is pretty much all I’ve got, but one of my new brothers is huge into card games and video games and…well, every other game you can think of.

You don’t have to talk about your sad shit. I won’t talk about mine, but honestly, I don’t get sad. It’s one of the many things my file says about me.

I did something for the first time today that’s…well I can’t tell you about it. But it made me feel good. Like I belong. I wish you could meet my new family. They’d like you, tricks and all.

A secret? The day I met you, you were the first person to touch me in a long time. It was like there was a glass bubble surrounding me, and somehow you broke through it. I’ve felt better every day since then. I guess you can even say you worked your magic on me.

-T

PS-I watched a magic special last night. If you tell me you can make the Eiffel Tower disappear, I’m fucking showing up for that.

Tristan,

WOW on the secret. I felt something that day, too. Guilt. For the first time ever taking something from anyone. I’m glad I helped you. But, I don’t think I have super powers or anything. It would be cool if I did. Besides, after your last letter came I tried for two hours to move books across the kitchen table with my mind.

In case you’re wondering, it was a no go.

I’m so happy that you feel like you belong there. I really am. I hope to feel that way someday. I know we said no sad stuff, but my best friend Gabby is leaving tomorrow to go live with her brother. She’s all I have. I don’t know what I’ll do without her here. Aunt Ruby is never home, and when she is, all she does is yell and call me names or bring strange men home who feel like they can do the same.

Just tell me you’re happy. That will help. Maybe I’ll go somewhere someday and feel that way too. Maybe, you can even come visit me sometime? Or I can visit you? I have enough money for a bus ticket. Well, I can get it, but I don’t know where you are.

-Emma Jean

“Those who have a strong sense of belonging, have the courage to be imperfect.” -Brene Brown

Four

It’s late. We should’ve been asleep for hours by now, but with every tick of the clock, the time for Gabby to leave grew closer.

Gabby and I were lying on my tiny twin bed in the dark, shining a small keychain flashlight on the quotes we’d taped to the wall, ones cut from various books, newspapers, and magazines over the five years we’ve lived in the same foster home together.

“This one is still my favorite,” Gabby said. She took hold of my hand, the one holding the flashlight, and directed it at a small, torn scrap of paper at the bottom of the wall above my bed. “How do you spell love? You don’t spell it. You feel it. -Anonymous.” She sighed dramatically and released my hand.

“Did you ever figure out who said that?” I asked, nudging her with my shoulder.

“Nope, but I will. Someday.” I could feel her smile through the dark.

“It’s from Winnie the Pooh,” Mona, Gabby’s older sister by ten months, groaned from her bed across the room. “Now, will you two please be quiet so I can get some sleep on our last night here?” I heard a rustle, and I knew that meant she’d rolled over and thrown her pillow over her head as she’d done too many times to count tonight.

I grew quiet, and Gabby knew that Mona’s words had seeped in and reminded me of what tomorrow would bring.

“Get over here,” she whispered loudly, pulling me back down onto my back beside her.

I brushed off tomorrow and instead chose to be present in the moment. Gabby and I giggled and huddled closer, our shoulders touching, our legs draped over one another’s.

“This one’s mine,” I said, shining the light higher on the wall. “Throw me to the wolves, and I will return as pack leader.”

“Wow. Okay, I change my mind. That’s my favorite, too,” Gabby said. “Wait. What about this one? If you need a hero, become one.”

“Now, that one’s my favorite,” we said, in unison.

Mona groaned again, and this time, I clicked off the flashlight, but Gabby made no move to return to her own bed in the middle of the room. It was rarer for us to sleep apart. “You know, Mona is my sister by birth, and I know you and I aren’t related by blood, but you’re my sister, too. You know that, right? I choose you, and I think that, in a way, it’s even more special.”