Ms Goodbody took one of my bags. This confused me. She hadn't helped me load or unload them, beyond opening the door. It could have been this was done without conscious thought on her part. Her mind too busy with other matters. I doubted that. I don't believe she'd done it intentionally to show her disapproval of me, but subconsciously. I was being tolerated with a large element resentment. I'd spoiled her arrangement with Dan at the very least. There was a lot more than that to make me unpopular. I was in danger of setting off down too many alleyways of inquiry, so I dismissed this from my consideration.
She took me through the door nearest that of her own room. There was a short passageway or hallway with two rooms off to the left. The first was lovingly decorated. The second was clean, tidy and sparsely furnished in comparison. It was also smaller. Furthest from the main body of the house. Should I have resented this? I can't see any reason to have done so. The room she'd given me was better than those I'd occupied for the last 6 months. Not some disinfected, impersonal cubicle. Opposite the doorway, which had a lockable door, was a window which looked out onto her back yard. She opened it slightly, allowing the chill winter air to enter the space.
"This is your room kid. You can pretty much do what ya like with it. As long as you don't cause any damage. I'll respect your privacy as much as I can. That doesn't mean I won't come in. It means I'll usually knock before I do."
I stepped inside putting my bag down. She remained in the doorway, placing the other luggage just inside. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply.
"Your home smells nice Ms Goodbody."
Her nose wrinkled as she raised the window behind her back surreptitiously.
"Not so nice since you got here kid. You need a bath."
"I wash every day." I advised her.
"You still stink like a wet dog. We'll talk about it later, but you are going to have a bath."
"We'll have to agree to disagree on that." My challenge was accepted, I could see the determination in those near unreadable eyes.
"Well make yourself at home. I'll be making sandwiches for lunch. Ham and cheese okay?" I nodded. "No hurry. I expect you know how wardrobes and drawers work. I'll take care of the food while you unpack." I sat on the bed, my hands on my knees. "Okay. That was a hint you should unpack. Make yourself at home." She suggested expectantly.
"Why? You don't want me here. When I leave I'll only have to pack again." Was that pain or irritation on her face? "I meant what I said outside. Just tell them I assaulted you. They'll take me away and you will never have to see me again."
"I know you did kid. I know you did." Her eyes unfocused, deep in thought.
Without another word she left. Closing the door into this annex of the house. I moved to the window looking out at the snow covered ground. She was checking the answering machine messages I presumed. Maybe that was why she wanted to keep me occupied unpacking. Most likely I was making up a story. I slid both my bags under the bed. Waited, for what I thought was a suitable amount of time, before I went back into the living room. The machine was no longer flashing. The woman was sitting at a dining table reading some papers. There was a sandwich on a plate before her and another at the end of the table furthest away. It was also nearest the entrance I'd used. Therefore it was impossible to gauge the significance. Convenience or keeping me at a safe distance? I stood looking at the ham and cheese sandwich. After a while she noticed.
"What's up kid? Do you need me to cut the crusts off for ya? Pull up a chair and eat fer Chrissakes."
The words were stern but the tone was softer.
"I'll stand thank you Ms Goodbody."
I took the sandwich, turning it my hands. It smelt good. She threw down the papers with a low growl.
"Why did you make the offer? If they take you away for being violent, you'll end up in some state institution."
"You're kind and caring. Fostering isn't a job to you. It's a calling. I knew that already, but I got further confirmation from the first room. The one you use for the girls you care about. There's a toy, one of your placements left behind. You've put it up safely out of reach, but still clearly visible. It means something to you, because the child it belonged to touched your heart. You concealed the fact you dislike me. That was kind. A kindness I have done nothing to deserve. I owe you. I wished to repay you. I'm an emotionless robot. If I were removed from society it would certainly be no loss, potentially a gain. If you are unable to foster, that would be a loss."
She shook her head.
"You worry the shit out of me kid. Not the least of it being you acting like you're at least thirty years old. You're here now. Not much either of us can do about it. My kind caring side won't let me condemn you to a lifetime in an asylum. Read this for me will ya? Tell me if I'm as screwed as I think I am."
She passed me the 3 page document. It was the agreement she'd signed with Child Services. I looked it over while she made herself another sandwich. Mine remained uneaten as I used both hands to go over the contract.
"As my mother would have put it, they've stitched you up. Using jargon and other obfuscation. There are a dozen stipulations here, failure in any one of which could be used against you. Personal hygiene, school attendance etc. They can also add further riders as and when they wish. I'm sorry. This is my fault. If I hadn't insulted you in their offices, none of this would have happened."
She dropped herself back into her chair with another sandwich.
"Not your fault kid. If they didn't use you they'd have come up with someone or something else to get me outta their hair. They've lied to me, which is a bitch. But I've lied to them a lot. Most of what they think they know about me is pure bullshit. I'm only 18, got a friend to alter the records."
I passed the pages back.
"If you were able to amend the records, why didn't you make yourself 21? That's the usual minimum age for fostering."
"I figured a year would be fine. Easy enough to fake a life history that more or less agrees with official records. Three years would have been too big a stretch. Especially given I only escaped criminal charges, because of my age. Someone might have spotted I was above the age of criminal responsibility when arrested."
"That's very well reasoned Ms Goodbody." I hoped she didn't think I was patronizing her.
"Thanks kid. Not bad for a highschool dropout am I. You can call me Crystal, by the way."
"You could call me Luke. Perhaps we should leave things as they are for now."
She grinned wryly.
"You going to eat that sandwich or wear it?"
For some reason I explained my abnormal conduct with food.
"All I had to eat in the mountains was raw meat and the few plants I knew were edible. Raw meat doesn't smell, look or taste good, because we aren't used to it. Up there I put off eating to prepare myself for the ordeal, now I do it to appreciate what I'm eating. It's a form of delayed gratification. I think I do it because it gives me the illusion of self control."
She didn't quite roll her eyes.
"Ready for ya bath?"
"No."
She leaned across, giving me an enticing smile.
"Will you at least take your jacket off for me?" I nodded, I was still in my outdoor clothes ones I'd worn for days. "Go and hang it in your room. You didn't unpack did you?"
"No I didn't."
She huffed.
"Well you owe me right? Because I was nice enough to not show you how much of a pain in the ass you are to me. Instead of turning yourself in to the police, do me the solid of unpacking your bags. Is that agreeable?"
"It seems like a reasonable compromise."
She put her head in her hands as I left.
I unpacked everything. There were more clothes than I expected. I'd never taken them out before. There were a few items I left on the mirrored dressing table. Minutes later she came to check on me. Smiling good naturedly until she saw the parcels. Christmas presents I hadn't opened. Again she gave me that unfathomable look. It wasn't pity. I knew all about pitying looks. I'd received several hundred since my near death experience. Ms Goodbody shook herself out of whatever thoughts she was having, spun on her heel then left. I finished unpacking and returned to my sandwich. It had been placed in an airtight container. I cracked the lid and smelled it.
"Could you come in here just a minute please. I want you to look at something for me."
Her voice came from the doorway on the other side of her bedroom door from where my room was. I pushed it open and entered. The air was filled with steam and exotic fragrances. A bath had been run. I'd walked into a trap. She'd been hiding behind the bathroom door. Her arms were wrapped around me before I could react. She was at least a foot taller than me and a good deal stronger to. As a matter of fact she was incredibly strong, as I soon discovered. I wriggled and clasped at anything I could find to prevent myself from being forced into the bath. Pushed my feet against the walls to put her off balance. Cursed her internally. The bitch. She'd been given orders to bathe me and she was intent on doing so. It was pretty even for at least a minute. Neither of us making any sound apart from grunts of effort.
CLICK.
Time didn't stand still. My mind had come into focus on her reflection in the mirror over the sink. She'd done things for me she hadn't needed to. I'd offered to have myself taken into custody. I expected that once I was locked up I'd be forced to clean myself. They wouldn't be at all concerned about my wellbeing. Why was I resisting? I knew why I'd started this. I'd wanted to disturb the equilibrium of the people I'd been placed with. It was an act of defiance towards them and the Child Services department. I relaxed instantly. Due to the laws of unintended consequences she fell back into the bath still holding me. Thanks to her fantastic reflexes neither of us was hurt. She got a ducking though. Through sacrificing herself for my safety. Her arms were still wound round me when she surfaced. Throwing her head back to remove her long hair from her face.
"We're here now. Might as well not waste it." She quipped.
She helped me off with my clothes throwing them onto the wet floor beside the bath. Wet clothes are hard to remove. It took a lot of effort. Once I was naked, she climbed out of the bath soaked to the skin. Averting her gaze unncessarily. I'd been in hospital for months. Been seen naked by scores of people. I had no modesty to offend. Crouching down she gathered up my clothes. And as she did the Indian hair decoration swung with her motions. Revealing a pale scar on the left side of her face. From just in front of her ear to a hairsbreadth from her carotid artery. Unthinkingly I reached out to touch it. She reared back, turning her head away and her back towards me. Through the now transparent shirt she wore, I could make out three more jagged scars, at least six inches in length. Pulling her hair back in place she looked over her shoulder at me and knew I'd seen them. I looked away. Embarrassed I think.
"Sorry." I murmured, reaching for the soap.
"We all got scars kid. I've seen yours. You've seen mine. End of story. Nothing to talk about."
Nervously I gave her a sideways glance. Reached out a finger to touch the side of her forehead.
"It's the ones in here that hurt the most."
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