Fic: Bones: In the Trenches, Part 17/30
Chapter 17: Rebuild and Regroup
Author: amilyn
Rating: PG-13 (themes, abuse)
Warnings: physical abuse, psychological abuse
Chapter 16
Chapter 17: Rebuild and Regroup
***
~December 1992~
Mrs. Dougherty was shaking her head. Temperance could see that even as she stared firmly at the spotless living room carpet. The scents of Windex, Comet, and Pledge clung to her nostrils. Claire had made her scrub every inch of the main floor before Mrs. Dougherty arrived. She tucked her hands under her thighs and held herself perfectly still while Claire described her, outlined her failings, denounced her as disruptive, lazy, rude, clumsy, and just plain trouble.
When the list of faults finally ended, there was a long silence. Temperance curled her fingers, squeezing her legs. Her own breathing sounded loud.
"Well." Mrs. Dougherty's tone and raised eyebrows communicated her disappointment quite clearly.
Temperance flinched.
Mrs. Dougherty ploughed on. "Have you packed your things?"
"Not yet. I haven't had ti--"
"See?" Claire said. "She's just inconsiderate. Now she's going to waste even more of your time."
Mrs. Dougherty shook her head again. "Go pack, Temperance."
Temperance stood but couldn't move. "I need--"
"Speak up. No one can hear you." Claire's voice was grating, piercing.
"Mrs. Maxwell, do you know--"
"Claire. I told you when you first got here: it's Claire."
Temperance cleared her throat but kept her eyes on her toes. "Claire, I need my suitcases to pack. Could you tell me where I could find them?"
"Those ratty old things? We threw those out months ago."
Temperance looked up then. Those had been her parents' suitcases. And her clothes--the ones Claire had deemed unsuitable--had been in them.
"But--"
"They were falling apart, and then bugs got into the storage area." Claire smiled.
Claire couldn't hit her, not in front of Mrs. Dougherty. "Those were mine. You had no right!" Temperance stood to her full height and looked down on Claire. "Those belonged to my parents!"
"Temperance, calm down."
Mrs. Dougherty laid a hand on Temperance's arm, but Temperance jerked away. She could feel the heat of blood in her cheeks.
"Temperance, what's done is done. And when there's an infestation, well, I'm sure Mrs. Maxwell did what she had to."
"I'll get you something so you can get on the road." Claire smiled so her teeth showed.
Temperance felt a flutter go through her stomach. That smile made her very nervous.
Claire returned with a handful of black plastic. "These garbage bags should be enough to carry your things. I'll come with you, make sure you don't pick up something of ours. Again."
Temperance gasped, but bit her lip and followed Claire up the stairs. She'd be gone soon. Gone.
Thirty minutes and a bruising pinch to her upper arm later, the bags were knotted and loaded into the trunk of Mrs. Dougherty's Buick--like a Goodwill donation or so much garbage. Brad had emerged from his room to watch her walk down the stairs.
"Good riddance to bad rubbish," he had said, and Temperance wasn't sure if he meant her or her bags of clothes.
On the front walk, Claire grabbed Temperance's shoulder, digging her fingers digging in. Temperance tried to step back, but Claire pulled her in and hugged her tight. "We won't miss you, Temperance," she whispered in her ear. "Especially not for Christmas next week."
Temperance wrenched herself away.
"I hope you're able to make things go better at your next home, Temperance," Claire said at a normal volume. "Try to be less clumsy, more friendly. Good luck."
Then they were in the car, driving away.
What if the next family is worse? Temperance thought. What if I can't stay at Burtonsville? She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. Stared at them. Counted breaths.
"Temperance," Mrs. Dougherty said.
Temperance didn't look up.
"Temperance, I'm really sorry about this, but we're unable to find a home placement for you on this short notice so near the holidays. There's a group home--"
"Can I keep going to Burtonsville High?"
"Please don't interrupt." Mrs. Dougherty kept glancing from the road over to Temperance. "But, yes. You'll still be at the same school."
Temperance sighed in relief. As long as she could continue doing well in school. All that mattered was finding a way to build a life of her own.
"What I was going to say is that we have a family lined up for the beginning of January, but you'll have to be in the group home as an emergency placement. I hate to put you through that, after what happened last Christmas, but--"
"It's fine," she said, looking at Mrs. Dougherty. "I'm fine. I'll be fine. School starts on January 4th. As long as--"
"I'll be picking you up on the second, after New Year's."
"Good. That'll be good."
"And, Temperance? Please at least try to fit in with this next family? And smile. It helps if you smile."
Temperance stared out the window as the houses flashed past. There was a synchronicity. Last Christmas it was just her and Russ...then just her by New Year's. This year, she was more alone. Patterns. All of the universe has patterns. Anyway, there was plenty of homework over the break. She'd keep busy. Then she'd be with another family and back in school. School would get her out of here.
~January 1993~
"Do your parents mind that you stay this late?"
"No."
"Even though it's every day?"
She kept her eyes on her notebook, but it was like she could feel Mr. Buxley's eyes on her, even though that was impossible. "They don't mind."
"Hmm." He used the push-broom all the way down the hallway and back to her spot under the stairs. "You must be smart, and a very good student. You've got all the big books, and you work hard."
She frowned at him and wondered what he wanted from her, then shrugged and said, "Yes. I am very smart."
"You're going to be something when you're all grown up. You're going to be someone important."
Even Temperance could hear the absolute confidence, the certainty in his voice. Without warning, she found tears welling in her eyes and her nose and throat filling. A sob tried to break free from her throat, but she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and kept it to a whimper. She was shaking all over, and the tears wouldn't stop, and biting her lips hard didn't stop the humiliating tears. She kept her head down as if she was still studying, but her breath was ragged and her shoulders jerked with each inhalation.
Mr. Buxley stood silently. He didn't try to comfort or reassure her. He didn't ridicule her. He just stood there. When the tears had run their course and she'd stopped gulping air, he said calmly, "I'd better finish this wing before it's time to lock up."
She wasn't quite sure how to respond. Her words took her by surprise. "My parents don't know I'm here because they disappeared just over a year ago."
"Disappeared?" His voice was even, calm, without the curiosity she'd become used to hearing when someone found out.
"Yes."
He remained silent, moving from room to room and bringing back trash cans to empty.
"I think... I realize they're very likely dead." She was proud of her matter-of-fact tone. "I mean, after a year, they...they haven't been found, and I haven't heard from them...they're not coming back. I've known that for a while."
"That is the most likely scenario," Mr. Buxley said, matching her calm voice. "And if they're dead, well, death is part of the natural order of things. It's rarely pretty, never easy, but it's natural."
No one else would let her say it. They all tried to make reassurances, pretend things were fine or were going to be fine. Temperance looked at Mr. Buxley and nodded slowly. Her stomach was tight, but she felt free. She hadn't said it out loud before, had thought it might destroy her to say it. But she was fine. She smiled up at the janitor. "Twenty minutes till you lock up?"
"Yep." He pushed his trash bin down the hall on its wheeled cart.
"Thanks, Mr. Buxley."
"Any time."
The jog home was just under three miles, and she arrived half an hour after Mr. Buxley locked up the building. The cold was dry, and she was glad she'd brought her scarf to wrap around her mouth and nose. Still, she gasped at the warm, lasagna-scented air in the house.
She avoided looking at Jasper. Whenever she caught sight of the stuffed dog, she expected the little rat terrier to bark at her or leap forward and shake her pant leg. As amused as the Bradentons were with having their watchdog--former watchdog--positioned just inside the front door, she was surprised they hadn't added a motion-sensor with a recorded bark to complete the effect.
She hung her coat in the coat closet behind the front door and placed her shoes on the rubber mat, even though they were dry this snowless January. She was glad the weather had held. Without her long runs she felt even more trapped. When she could run, run, run away, it was reassuring.
"Temperance?" The floor creaked under footsteps.
"Yes, Mrs. Bradenton?" she replied, picking up her backpack and making a point of looking through it.
"Nora. I told you to call me Nora."
Temperance nodded but remained silent. She'd made that mistake before when she'd accepted the false intimacy names created.
Mrs. Bradenton reached out, and Temperance jerked back. Another step and she'd be trapped against the door. She felt her heart race and couldn't find a place for her eyes or hands to rest.
The woman let her hand drop. "I just wanted to ask you to try and come home earlier while it's still getting dark this early. We want to make sure you're safe." Mrs. Bradenton didn't reach out again, but she smiled.
It seemed like a genuine smile, one with affection, or kindness maybe. Temperance wasn't sure. "Sunset is later every day now. We're past the winter solstice."
"You're right." That smile again. "But we want to keep you safe. That's why we've opened our home to young people like you. We want you to be safe."
Temperance gritted her teeth. She wondered if the Maxwells told themselves the same thing. "I have a lot of homework. My coursework is academically rigorous and geared to prepare me for college. I need the school's resources." She stared at the carpet just behind and to the side of Mrs. Bradenton.
"I can understand that. So how about a compromise? I'll expect you to call if you're going to be home later than eight o'clock, all right?" Mrs. Bradenton smiled again. Her smiles looked genuine, and her tone sounded kind. But so had Claire's at first.
Temperance bit back words. This woman could call Mrs. Dougherty, and she'd end up back in the group home where she'd spent winter break. Those two weeks had been eye-opening. Her movements had been heavily restricted. She'd eaten little, slept on her clothes, and hidden from girls and guards, trying to protect her belongings and safety. There had been no place to do schoolwork. She had no desire to return, so she had no choice but to agree.
Mrs. Bradenton nodded. "We care about you, Temperance. Any time you need a ride, especially if it's too cold or wet to run, or if there's ice, please call us, and we'll pick you up."
"All right." She tried to step past Mrs. Bradenton.
"Temperance? On Sunday afternoon we're having a cocktail party for the vendors and distributors Jake works with. Saturday we need to clean the house, and I'm going to need your help with preparing hors d'oeuvres. I'm making my specialty."
"Yes, ma'am. May I go now? I still have reading to do."
"Of course. We'll start at nine a.m. on Saturday."
***
"You take AP Biology?"
Temperance smiled at Mr. Buxley. "Yes. How did you know?"
"Only class with a green book that size." He emptied another trash can. "You seem to like it."
"I do. I'm learning a lot, and I've been teaching myself extra physiology."
"How's that?" He leaned against his cart.
"I found an old hardcover copy of Gray's Anatomy at a thrift store where we were getting clothes, and I've been memorizing human physiology."
"In your copious spare time?"
She smiled. "Well, yes. Especially on the weekends. And in classes when I'm bored, I start with my toes and mentally recite all the bones, muscles, tendons, and ligaments in the body."
Mr. Buxley chuckled. "I guess that's one way to do it."
"We're dissecting fetal pigs in class right now. In the fall we did cows' eyes and frogs. It's extraordinary how organisms are structured--simultaneously highly resilient and incredibly fragile. The paradoxical nature of it..." She shook her head.
"I see it all the time. One of my jobs is to remove dead animals on school grounds, and some look nearly pulverized, but others look almost perfect, like they just up and died one day."
Temperance leaned forward and opened her mouth. Then she closed it. It was such an opportunity...but what if he thought differently of her?
"If you want," Mr. Buxley said, removing a plastic garbage bag from his cart, "I could save the animals for you, and you could dissect something that wasn't filled with all those chemicals."
Electricity ran through her arms and abdomen. She opened and closed her mouth a few more times before gasping, "Yes. Yes, please. Mr. Buxley, that would be.... very helpful. Just let me know and I'll stay." She wanted to hug him, but didn't think he would appreciate that.
"You're welcome, Temperance. I'm going to get back to work. Make sure you tell me when you're heading out."
"I will." She looked back at her work. It felt odd, now, having somebody understand her. Patterns, though, were ever-present. It seemed life and experience in all their forms were simultaneously resilient and fragile.
***
Chapter 18
***
Posting Schedule: This story has 30 parts, which will post here and at ff.net on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.
Author's Notes
Thanks upon thanks to my wonderful betas and sounding boards: jennasq, b1uemorpho, and havocthecat. HUGE and effusive gratitude to my line-editor and prodder to make this story as good as I could at this time, as well as encouragement and sounding board services while I planned and wrote for two years to Ayiana2.
Feedback is most assuredly welcome.
***
Author: amilyn
Rating: PG-13 (themes, abuse)
Warnings: physical abuse, psychological abuse
Chapter 16
Chapter 17: Rebuild and Regroup
***
~December 1992~
Mrs. Dougherty was shaking her head. Temperance could see that even as she stared firmly at the spotless living room carpet. The scents of Windex, Comet, and Pledge clung to her nostrils. Claire had made her scrub every inch of the main floor before Mrs. Dougherty arrived. She tucked her hands under her thighs and held herself perfectly still while Claire described her, outlined her failings, denounced her as disruptive, lazy, rude, clumsy, and just plain trouble.
When the list of faults finally ended, there was a long silence. Temperance curled her fingers, squeezing her legs. Her own breathing sounded loud.
"Well." Mrs. Dougherty's tone and raised eyebrows communicated her disappointment quite clearly.
Temperance flinched.
Mrs. Dougherty ploughed on. "Have you packed your things?"
"Not yet. I haven't had ti--"
"See?" Claire said. "She's just inconsiderate. Now she's going to waste even more of your time."
Mrs. Dougherty shook her head again. "Go pack, Temperance."
Temperance stood but couldn't move. "I need--"
"Speak up. No one can hear you." Claire's voice was grating, piercing.
"Mrs. Maxwell, do you know--"
"Claire. I told you when you first got here: it's Claire."
Temperance cleared her throat but kept her eyes on her toes. "Claire, I need my suitcases to pack. Could you tell me where I could find them?"
"Those ratty old things? We threw those out months ago."
Temperance looked up then. Those had been her parents' suitcases. And her clothes--the ones Claire had deemed unsuitable--had been in them.
"But--"
"They were falling apart, and then bugs got into the storage area." Claire smiled.
Claire couldn't hit her, not in front of Mrs. Dougherty. "Those were mine. You had no right!" Temperance stood to her full height and looked down on Claire. "Those belonged to my parents!"
"Temperance, calm down."
Mrs. Dougherty laid a hand on Temperance's arm, but Temperance jerked away. She could feel the heat of blood in her cheeks.
"Temperance, what's done is done. And when there's an infestation, well, I'm sure Mrs. Maxwell did what she had to."
"I'll get you something so you can get on the road." Claire smiled so her teeth showed.
Temperance felt a flutter go through her stomach. That smile made her very nervous.
Claire returned with a handful of black plastic. "These garbage bags should be enough to carry your things. I'll come with you, make sure you don't pick up something of ours. Again."
Temperance gasped, but bit her lip and followed Claire up the stairs. She'd be gone soon. Gone.
Thirty minutes and a bruising pinch to her upper arm later, the bags were knotted and loaded into the trunk of Mrs. Dougherty's Buick--like a Goodwill donation or so much garbage. Brad had emerged from his room to watch her walk down the stairs.
"Good riddance to bad rubbish," he had said, and Temperance wasn't sure if he meant her or her bags of clothes.
On the front walk, Claire grabbed Temperance's shoulder, digging her fingers digging in. Temperance tried to step back, but Claire pulled her in and hugged her tight. "We won't miss you, Temperance," she whispered in her ear. "Especially not for Christmas next week."
Temperance wrenched herself away.
"I hope you're able to make things go better at your next home, Temperance," Claire said at a normal volume. "Try to be less clumsy, more friendly. Good luck."
Then they were in the car, driving away.
What if the next family is worse? Temperance thought. What if I can't stay at Burtonsville? She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. Stared at them. Counted breaths.
"Temperance," Mrs. Dougherty said.
Temperance didn't look up.
"Temperance, I'm really sorry about this, but we're unable to find a home placement for you on this short notice so near the holidays. There's a group home--"
"Can I keep going to Burtonsville High?"
"Please don't interrupt." Mrs. Dougherty kept glancing from the road over to Temperance. "But, yes. You'll still be at the same school."
Temperance sighed in relief. As long as she could continue doing well in school. All that mattered was finding a way to build a life of her own.
"What I was going to say is that we have a family lined up for the beginning of January, but you'll have to be in the group home as an emergency placement. I hate to put you through that, after what happened last Christmas, but--"
"It's fine," she said, looking at Mrs. Dougherty. "I'm fine. I'll be fine. School starts on January 4th. As long as--"
"I'll be picking you up on the second, after New Year's."
"Good. That'll be good."
"And, Temperance? Please at least try to fit in with this next family? And smile. It helps if you smile."
Temperance stared out the window as the houses flashed past. There was a synchronicity. Last Christmas it was just her and Russ...then just her by New Year's. This year, she was more alone. Patterns. All of the universe has patterns. Anyway, there was plenty of homework over the break. She'd keep busy. Then she'd be with another family and back in school. School would get her out of here.
~January 1993~
"Do your parents mind that you stay this late?"
"No."
"Even though it's every day?"
She kept her eyes on her notebook, but it was like she could feel Mr. Buxley's eyes on her, even though that was impossible. "They don't mind."
"Hmm." He used the push-broom all the way down the hallway and back to her spot under the stairs. "You must be smart, and a very good student. You've got all the big books, and you work hard."
She frowned at him and wondered what he wanted from her, then shrugged and said, "Yes. I am very smart."
"You're going to be something when you're all grown up. You're going to be someone important."
Even Temperance could hear the absolute confidence, the certainty in his voice. Without warning, she found tears welling in her eyes and her nose and throat filling. A sob tried to break free from her throat, but she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and kept it to a whimper. She was shaking all over, and the tears wouldn't stop, and biting her lips hard didn't stop the humiliating tears. She kept her head down as if she was still studying, but her breath was ragged and her shoulders jerked with each inhalation.
Mr. Buxley stood silently. He didn't try to comfort or reassure her. He didn't ridicule her. He just stood there. When the tears had run their course and she'd stopped gulping air, he said calmly, "I'd better finish this wing before it's time to lock up."
She wasn't quite sure how to respond. Her words took her by surprise. "My parents don't know I'm here because they disappeared just over a year ago."
"Disappeared?" His voice was even, calm, without the curiosity she'd become used to hearing when someone found out.
"Yes."
He remained silent, moving from room to room and bringing back trash cans to empty.
"I think... I realize they're very likely dead." She was proud of her matter-of-fact tone. "I mean, after a year, they...they haven't been found, and I haven't heard from them...they're not coming back. I've known that for a while."
"That is the most likely scenario," Mr. Buxley said, matching her calm voice. "And if they're dead, well, death is part of the natural order of things. It's rarely pretty, never easy, but it's natural."
No one else would let her say it. They all tried to make reassurances, pretend things were fine or were going to be fine. Temperance looked at Mr. Buxley and nodded slowly. Her stomach was tight, but she felt free. She hadn't said it out loud before, had thought it might destroy her to say it. But she was fine. She smiled up at the janitor. "Twenty minutes till you lock up?"
"Yep." He pushed his trash bin down the hall on its wheeled cart.
"Thanks, Mr. Buxley."
"Any time."
The jog home was just under three miles, and she arrived half an hour after Mr. Buxley locked up the building. The cold was dry, and she was glad she'd brought her scarf to wrap around her mouth and nose. Still, she gasped at the warm, lasagna-scented air in the house.
She avoided looking at Jasper. Whenever she caught sight of the stuffed dog, she expected the little rat terrier to bark at her or leap forward and shake her pant leg. As amused as the Bradentons were with having their watchdog--former watchdog--positioned just inside the front door, she was surprised they hadn't added a motion-sensor with a recorded bark to complete the effect.
She hung her coat in the coat closet behind the front door and placed her shoes on the rubber mat, even though they were dry this snowless January. She was glad the weather had held. Without her long runs she felt even more trapped. When she could run, run, run away, it was reassuring.
"Temperance?" The floor creaked under footsteps.
"Yes, Mrs. Bradenton?" she replied, picking up her backpack and making a point of looking through it.
"Nora. I told you to call me Nora."
Temperance nodded but remained silent. She'd made that mistake before when she'd accepted the false intimacy names created.
Mrs. Bradenton reached out, and Temperance jerked back. Another step and she'd be trapped against the door. She felt her heart race and couldn't find a place for her eyes or hands to rest.
The woman let her hand drop. "I just wanted to ask you to try and come home earlier while it's still getting dark this early. We want to make sure you're safe." Mrs. Bradenton didn't reach out again, but she smiled.
It seemed like a genuine smile, one with affection, or kindness maybe. Temperance wasn't sure. "Sunset is later every day now. We're past the winter solstice."
"You're right." That smile again. "But we want to keep you safe. That's why we've opened our home to young people like you. We want you to be safe."
Temperance gritted her teeth. She wondered if the Maxwells told themselves the same thing. "I have a lot of homework. My coursework is academically rigorous and geared to prepare me for college. I need the school's resources." She stared at the carpet just behind and to the side of Mrs. Bradenton.
"I can understand that. So how about a compromise? I'll expect you to call if you're going to be home later than eight o'clock, all right?" Mrs. Bradenton smiled again. Her smiles looked genuine, and her tone sounded kind. But so had Claire's at first.
Temperance bit back words. This woman could call Mrs. Dougherty, and she'd end up back in the group home where she'd spent winter break. Those two weeks had been eye-opening. Her movements had been heavily restricted. She'd eaten little, slept on her clothes, and hidden from girls and guards, trying to protect her belongings and safety. There had been no place to do schoolwork. She had no desire to return, so she had no choice but to agree.
Mrs. Bradenton nodded. "We care about you, Temperance. Any time you need a ride, especially if it's too cold or wet to run, or if there's ice, please call us, and we'll pick you up."
"All right." She tried to step past Mrs. Bradenton.
"Temperance? On Sunday afternoon we're having a cocktail party for the vendors and distributors Jake works with. Saturday we need to clean the house, and I'm going to need your help with preparing hors d'oeuvres. I'm making my specialty."
"Yes, ma'am. May I go now? I still have reading to do."
"Of course. We'll start at nine a.m. on Saturday."
***
"You take AP Biology?"
Temperance smiled at Mr. Buxley. "Yes. How did you know?"
"Only class with a green book that size." He emptied another trash can. "You seem to like it."
"I do. I'm learning a lot, and I've been teaching myself extra physiology."
"How's that?" He leaned against his cart.
"I found an old hardcover copy of Gray's Anatomy at a thrift store where we were getting clothes, and I've been memorizing human physiology."
"In your copious spare time?"
She smiled. "Well, yes. Especially on the weekends. And in classes when I'm bored, I start with my toes and mentally recite all the bones, muscles, tendons, and ligaments in the body."
Mr. Buxley chuckled. "I guess that's one way to do it."
"We're dissecting fetal pigs in class right now. In the fall we did cows' eyes and frogs. It's extraordinary how organisms are structured--simultaneously highly resilient and incredibly fragile. The paradoxical nature of it..." She shook her head.
"I see it all the time. One of my jobs is to remove dead animals on school grounds, and some look nearly pulverized, but others look almost perfect, like they just up and died one day."
Temperance leaned forward and opened her mouth. Then she closed it. It was such an opportunity...but what if he thought differently of her?
"If you want," Mr. Buxley said, removing a plastic garbage bag from his cart, "I could save the animals for you, and you could dissect something that wasn't filled with all those chemicals."
Electricity ran through her arms and abdomen. She opened and closed her mouth a few more times before gasping, "Yes. Yes, please. Mr. Buxley, that would be.... very helpful. Just let me know and I'll stay." She wanted to hug him, but didn't think he would appreciate that.
"You're welcome, Temperance. I'm going to get back to work. Make sure you tell me when you're heading out."
"I will." She looked back at her work. It felt odd, now, having somebody understand her. Patterns, though, were ever-present. It seemed life and experience in all their forms were simultaneously resilient and fragile.
***
Chapter 18
***
Posting Schedule: This story has 30 parts, which will post here and at ff.net on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.
Author's Notes
Thanks upon thanks to my wonderful betas and sounding boards: jennasq, b1uemorpho, and havocthecat. HUGE and effusive gratitude to my line-editor and prodder to make this story as good as I could at this time, as well as encouragement and sounding board services while I planned and wrote for two years to Ayiana2.
Feedback is most assuredly welcome.
***