Page 11 of Silent Count
She’s a pediatrician, and she must be between patients. I can see her office in my mind. Probably still featuring my and Torie’s artwork from school and pictures of the three of us.
“I just got to my building, so let me get back to you later on whether or not I can come in early, but it’s not likely.” I see a few people from my class walk by and into the building. “I’d better run. Class is about to start.”
“Okay, sweet girl. I’ll talk to you later. Have a good day. I love you!” Her voice pitches at theI love you.
“Love you more. Talk to you later,” I say and start to take the phone away from my ear to disconnect.
“Oh, wait, Chels! We need to talk about that letter sooner rather than later. Sorry …” She stalls.
The letter.
It’s been something Aunt Laura has brought up a few times over the last month. It was sent to the house, and she forwarded it to me. It’s sitting in my desk drawer, unopened and staring at me whenever I go to grab a pen.
“I mean, I would rather not. But we’ll talk about it later. I don’t want it on my mind today. I have a lot to do,” I say, aggravated. Not at her, just at the mention of the letter since it’s from my dad.
“I know. I’m sorry. It just popped in my mind. Love you.” She makes a kissing sound.
“Love you too. I’ll call you guys later.” I disconnect and pull the door open to head into my class.
Funny enough, it’s a Developmental and Child Psychology class. I’m sure they could do a whole case study on me and my sister. It’d probably be enough material for an entire semester.
We’re actually both as mentally healthy as anyone could be, considering our history. Torie was pretty little when my aunt got us; she really doesn’t have many memories of what it was like with my parents before my mom died. Luckily.
I, on the other hand, remember a lot. And most of it wasn’t good. Especially the memories from that night my mother was killed. I’ve been through years of therapy, and I’ve dealt with the trauma of it all, not that I don’t get bad dreams here and there, but I know how to process it in a way that isn’t harmful to me or sets me back in any way.
Thinking about what could have happened to us if we hadn’t had our aunt … I can’t even imagine how we would have turned out or if we would have been able to stay together at all. After my mom’s murder, the Florida Department of Children and Family immediately took custody of us and, within twenty-four hours, had a shelter hearing before a judge. At the shelter hearing, my aunt—the only surviving blood relative we had, who we didn’t even know—was granted emergency placement. Most cases aren’t as easy as ours was in terms of placement.
After social evaluations and more hearings, the court granted my aunt a long-term guardianship plan. She legally adopted us nine months later.
And that’s why I want to go into family law, advocating for children. We were fortunate that she wanted us without a doubt in her mind. At least, that’s what she’s always told us. She’s never made us feel like we weren’t wanted or loved. Sure, it was difficult in the beginning, especially with me becoming a teenager not long after she got us. Dealing with all thecounseling and the hormones on top of it … bless her for not giving up on me. She has been a mother, in every sense of the word, to us both, and I wouldn’t be where I am today without her.
After class, I decide to stop at the coffee shop in the campus common area. When I walk into the building, I look to my right and spot Bo sitting on one of the couches in the lounge area, looking like the snack he is, wearing gray sweatpants and a Walker University Football T-shirt with his number on it. I internally debate on whether or not I should go say hello or if it would be weird. I mean, he’s my friend, sort of, and I’ll be tutoring him, so I probably should.
Why am I acting like this? I literally never get flustered with guys. My thoughts make me laugh, which draws his attention. I’m looking right at him and laughing. Great.
He smiles and waves at me. “Hey, Chelsea. What’s so funny?”
Now it really would be weird if I didn’t go over and say hi, so I stroll over to him. “Hey.” I smile and shift my bag on my shoulder. “Oh, nothing. Just funny running into you here.”
He nods. “I mean, not that funny, considering I go to school here too.” He laughs. “You between classes or done for the day?”
“Just finished one class, and I have one more before I’m done. But then I need to meet the other student I’m tutoring.” I take a seat on the chair next to the couch.
He puts his hand on his heart. “You mean I’m not your only one? I’m crushed,” he says, laughing.
I smile at him and feel my cheeks heat. “I have another. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to share me.” I shrug.
“I don’t like to share. Is it another athlete?”
“Soccer,” I state.
“Damn. Those guys are fit and definitely have a good time. I bet he tries to sweep you off your feet.”
“Well, it’s ashe, not ahe. Not my type, although she could be a new bestie. You never know.”
His shoulders relax as he sits back. “But I’ll be your best student.” He winks at me and smirks.
“Oh, yeah? You take direction well then? Like to be told what to do?” I smile, testing him a little to gauge his response to my blatant innuendo.
