The conversation was fairly light-hearted. Even though I was sure they wanted to hear about my past they were avoiding questioning me directly. Mostly Charles told stories about his own past, a lot of which were initiated by Veronica saying things like ‘Do you remember that time...?’ or ‘I’ll never forget when...’. Some of the stories were about Charles’ high school years, but none seemed to involve my mother even though I knew they had known each other from high school. Rachael's presence was more than likely the reason for his apparent neglect of the one person I may have wanted to know more about. I couldn’t really recall many happy memories from my childhood so I remained quiet for the most part, except for the occasional question.
“You haven’t told us any stories yet, Claudia." Charles said after finishing a story about a day out at the seaside. "Did you go on outings at the orphanage?”
“No,” I answered.
“What about your foster homes?” He asked.
“I wasn’t really at any for long, except for my last placement, Mrs Maple.”
“Did you go anywhere with her?”
“We went camping once.” I said giving a half smile before sighing heavily. “But it didn’t end too nicely. That’s the night I found out I could make fire and I burnt our tent down ... with Mrs Maple inside.”
A hard silence fell over the table until Charles, smiling lightly, bowed his head slightly as if prompting me to continue.
"She was ok, I mean she got out unhurt. But ... things were never the same after that."
And that's how easily the door of the past was opened. I had never really talked much about my childhood. I'd never had anyone to talk to. But that night I did. So I began first talking about my time at the orphanage and when I first met Mrs Maple and then the first night I had stayed at her house. It was a cold winter night and not being able to sleep I had gone downstairs to explore. Mrs Maple was awake too, sat in her armchair reading only to stop after every page to tighten her blanket around her legs and rub her hands together. I had given her quite a fright when she saw me standing barefooted in the doorway wearing only a short nightdress.
“I'm not cold.” I'd laughed, when she scooped me up into her blanket. I was surprised to see her reaction to the fact that I didn't feel the cold and could radiate as much heat as her fireplace would, if she ever put it on, was more of curiosity than dislike even to the point that she decided it must have been a gift sent from God. She was quite a religious woman who attributed all things in her life to either God or the devil. So whereas I was initially a gift from God, a gift that was worthy of a full adoption being filed for. That fateful night of the fire transformed my status to that of a trial from the devil.
On the last night of our camping trip Mrs Maple's niece, Becky, and I snuck out of the tent to play after all the adults were sleeping. This is when I discovered I could create a physical flame, as up until then my ability had been limited to simply raising my temperature. Becky, who thought the whole 'heat thing' was cool anyway, insisted I start a small fire of branches she had stacked up. It would have been the perfect ending of our trip if the fire hadn't grown out of control, and, being that we were only kids, we'd built the fire too close to the tents which was in flames in only a few seconds. My first thought was to get Mrs Maple out of the tent, but in our overzealous attempt to secure the tent as we left, we'd jammed the zip and couldn't undo it. I pulled at the zip calling to Mrs Maple, who at that time I called mom, until my whole body erupted into flames and, in turn, set the front of the tent alight also. It wasn't until Becky managed to wake her father who used a camping knife to cut the tent open that Mrs Maple was free from the tent, coughing and spluttering from the smoke until her eyes caught sight of my body, which was still aflame. That's when I saw that I was no longer considered a gift from God as her gazed fixed on me, her eyes opened wide with fear.
Thinking back to the camp fire reopened questions that I had never found answers to. I understood why Mrs Maple had been frightened that night, but I've never understood why she didn't eventually see the beauty of my new ability. Why hadn't she accepted the fire as she had accepted the heat and called it a gift as well? And more importantly, why hadn't she stood by me and helped me to control my new ability, rather than turn against me and reject me.
If I'm honest I never truly understood the concept of love, with all the talk of 'good fits' and other terms that would-be foster parents used when deciding if they should keep a child or not. I had hoped that love was something simple, like what we saw in the movies where a person would love another unconditionally, forever. I had watched many movies like that. Whether it was a husband and wife, a parent and child or two best friends, there was always some circumstance that tried the strength of their love and just when you thought that their relationship was definitely over, that's when the reality of their love would shine through and everything would be back to normal. In fact, most times it would be better. But this happy ending never happened for me as soon after returning home, the facility workers came to collect me.
After I finished talking, everyone remained quiet for a short while, probably still digesting the story. Veronica was the first to speak.
“Did you ever see Mrs Maple again?” She asked.
“Yes.” I said. Yet another memory I didn’t enjoy revisiting. “I ran away from the facility about 2 months after I went there and made my way back to her house and she had another girl staying with her. I thought she was to be my new sister. “I let out a soft laugh that could easily have been mistaken for a sob. "It turned out she was my replacement." It was hard enough when Mrs Maple told me that she was no longer allowed to foster me, yet alone adopt me. But I still can't decide what had hurt the most that night; the fear in Mrs Maple’s eyes as she shielded the young girl from me or the five words she uttered as I pleaded my case and hoped to persuade her to appeal their decision.
'I don't want you anymore.' She'd said as she picked up her phone to dial. I don't recall anything else she said over the phone call, only the 5 words that echoed throughout me.
"Mom," I called after she finished on the phone call and was making her way to the door.
“Claudia, you need to go back to the hospital.” she said firmly, “You don’t belong here!”
'I don’t belong here?' I whispered, unable to even move my arm to brush the warm tears that streamed from my eyes. Why? I thought but didn't ask, the heat that surged, almost uncontrollably through me, an answer enough.
Breath, relax, let go. I chanted the mantra they'd taught me at the facility to keep my ability under control. Breath, relax, let go. Breath, relax, let go. It was no use. The most I could do was to keep myself from bursting into flames.
'Yes, she’s in there.” I eventually heard Mrs Maple say at the front door, “Please take her.”
It was Dr J who approached me first. In fact he was the only one who approached me.
“Keep calm Claudia, everything is going to be okay.” he said stopping cautiously in front of me.
I didn't look up. It was too easy to fall for his genuineness when looking into his eyes which reminded me of the sea on a warm, calm day. I didn't need someone who always understood and said the right thing right then, I wanted to scream. I wanted to stop Mrs Maple as she spoke to the other doctors, telling them how scared she had been, and how I could have harmed them. I wanted to remind her how much of a gift I had been to her.
“Keep a better eye on her this time," Mrs Maple continued, "I don’t want to see her again.” That was the final blow which struck me just as hard as any physical blow could.
Mum. I wanted to say it. The 'm' trembled on the tip of my lips, my hands falling into fists.
"1 ... 2 ... " Dr J's voice was firm, yet gentle as always. "Claudia!" he said gripping my chin and raising my head to my meet his gaze. "3 ... 4 ..."
I don't want to count.
"5 ..." He continued, wincing from the heat but refusing to move his hand. "6 ..."
I didn't wan
t to count, but I didn't want to hurt him. He was all I had left.
"7 ..." I counted along "8 ... 9 ... 10 ..."
"Everything is going to be okay." he said again.
It was never ok again after that.
I never saw Mrs Maple again after that. And although I did run away from the facility several times, I always went back. Partly for Dr J’s sake but mainly because I had nowhere else to go. Regardless of whether or not my friendship with Dr J was real, he was all I had left. There was no one else who wanted me and no one else who cared.
I did miss Dr J, he had been the closet thing I had ever had to a father and, however platonic our relationship had been there were moments when I could easily believe it were real. I looked back up at Charles hoping he hadn't sensed my feelings. But the doleful expression he wore suggested his thoughts were more of sympathy than blame.
“I’m really tired.” I said, unable to take the hurt look that Charles held for any longer “Is it okay if I get some sleep?”
“I’ll show you to your room.” He said quietly and then stood up and walked towards the door.
My room was a small guest room at the end of the second landing.
"We can redecorate it if you want.” Charles said.
“I’m sure it’s fine.” I answered and waited for him to move aside so I could enter the room, but he didn’t.
“Claudia,” He finally said. “I’m so sorry for everything that's happened to you.”
“It wasn’t your fault Charles.” I said bluntly.
“You know what Mrs Maple said to you is wrong, don’t you? There is nothing wrong with you and you belong just as much as the next person.”
“Yeh, sure.” I said, nodding my head in the direction of the bedroom, hoping for the permission to enter.
“No. Seriously,” He said noticing my dismissive attitude “You’ve just met the wrong kind of people throughout your life. There are so many people out there who will see just how amazing you are, with or without your ability.”
“Do all of your friends know about your ability?” I asked, finally making eye contact.
“No. I guess there are quite a lot of people out there like Mrs Maple who just can’t handle things like this. But you will find some people you can trust. I promise!”
I thought back to Becky on the night of the camp fire and how impressed she was, if the circumstances had been different would I have been able to trust Becky?
“Just be careful, not everyone who can be trusted with a secret can be trusted to respect it properly.” He said as if reading my thoughts “But I'm sure you know this already, don't you?” His arms wrapped around me, pulling me in to a warm embrace. “I'm really so sorry about everything Claudia. I promise I'll never let anybody take advantage of you again.”
I wasn't too sure what I was supposed to do, it had been a long time since anybody had hugged me, but he was my father after all. Something that the unfamiliar warmth that I felt in his arms seemed to testify. I put my arms around him and hugged him back, “Thank you.” I whispered.
It was the hug I had wanted for a long time, and I wished i could have stayed there if it wasn't for the fact that it also made me feel exceptionally weak and vulnerable, a feeling I hated to even acknowledge so instead I pulled away from him. “I really should get some sleep.” I said trying my hardest to keep my voice from wobbling.
“Sure. We'll speak in the morning.” he replied before kissing me on the top of my head and then letting me go.
I slid the bolt which sat just above the door handle as the stream of tears finally ran freely. The room was fairly empty except for a bed, a closet and a fairly large dressing table with a large mirror. It was also newly decorated and even though Charles had suggested we redecorate the white walls, accented with orange borders would probably have been my choice of colours anyway.
The only thing I would have changed was the large dressing table mirror. I didn't like mirrors and rarely looked into them. There was a time, with Mrs Maple, when I would have my hair in fine braids or neatly fastened pig tails. But now I just wore it as it came; a loose mass of curls which tumbled down around my face and gave me a slightly wild look, especially after a vigorous flight.
I picked up a brush from the table, brushed my hair back and held it in a ponytail, similar to the one Rachael wore. Apart from the colour of my eyes, there wasn't much of a resemblance to Charles even with my hair pulled neatly out of my face. I almost didn't even look like me anymore, I looked a lot calmer and even more mature and wondered for a moment if I really could fit into a simple town life. But that simple moment of hoping was soon demolished by the memory of the facility and all that had happened there. I come as I am, I thought and loosened my hand to let my curls to fall back into place.
CHAPTER 5
Becoming a part of the Williams family was easy enough. They were a quiet family, spending most of their time indoors or sitting in their garden. The garden was west facing, and although it wasn’t on any form of high ground, seemed to catch the sunset perfectly.
During the daytime, when Charles was at home, we would sit in the garden filling each other in on all the major and minor times we would have missed in each other’s lives. I spoke mostly. Telling him all about my days at the orphanage, my early foster homes and my life at the facility. I had told him most of the stories from my time there, except for the true circumstance as to why I left. I didn’t feel ready to relive the pain of losing Dr J, and thinking about Q and Z's plan for me filled with me with such a rush of emotions that I didn’t feel comfortable sharing it just yet. Although I did want to and was almost certain Charles would understand. He was very much like Dr J himself. Easy to talk to and had the most powerful aura of safety surrounding him, I knew I could share anything with him. It was only myself that refused to let me. The slightest surge of emotions, whether positive or negative brought too many uncertainties to the forefront of my mind, and despite not being able to validate any of those thoughts, they still rendered me incapable of sharing what mattered. So instead, whenever asked, I simply said that I had grown bored of the facility and left.
On days when Charles went into work I would either sit with Veronica while she prepared food or help out with chores. There was a large barn in the garden that they were restoring so I normally had a lot of jobs I could carry out in there whenever I wanted to be alone.
The evenings were very much a family affair with everyone sitting around the dinner table talking or occasionally we would sit in the living room and put the TV on. Veronica would normally monopolise the dinner conversations telling me everything from her own childhood and married life, to random stories about the neighbours or local scandals. Rachael never spoke much, I didn't know if she was uncomfortable around me or just simply didn't know what to talk about. I wondered if it was difficult for her to have the daughter of Charles first love appear out of nowhere. Whatever the case I didn’t care much, my main concern was my relationship with Charles although I did like Veronica a lot.
"I never saw her again after that." Charles said one afternoon. We had been sitting in the garden talking as usual but that day he was speaking mostly of my mother, something I rarely pushed him on to.
They had known each other since nursery and had been close friends for almost as long, although they hadn’t started a romantic relationship until their last years of high school. They were engaged shortly after graduating and then Denise had become pregnant.
Rachael had moved into town during junior school, her and Denise had had a love/hate relationship throughout most of their school years but had become very close friends in their last year.
“So what happened when my mother disappeared? Did Rachael comfort you through your grief?” I asked, raising one eyebrow. A wave of guilt running through me as soon as the words left my mouth.
His eyes flickered over the grass as he attempted to either hide his embarrassment or figure out a way to explain. “No, it wasn’t like that.”
“It’s okay Charles, you don’t have to explain.” I said abruptly, not wanting him to look so uncomfortable. “That’s life I guess.”
The green of his eyes glinted through the narrow slits his eyes had become. “Why don’t you like Rachael?” He asked.
I hadn’t really thought about it before. “I don’t not like her.” I answered hesitantly. Charles let out a sigh as if the answer hadn’t sufficed his question.
“I know she’s not your mother, but she is my wife. She’s part of your family now Claudia. You should give her a chance.” His gaze held my eyes a few seconds more before he looked down at his watch. “I’d better go into town before it gets late. I have a few errands to run.” He said and got up from his chair. The silence of his footsteps as he walked towards the house added weight to the heaviness that had come over me. I hadn’t seen him lose his composure at all in the days I had stayed with them, and even though his composure still held up highly. I could see he was quite upset.
I never apologised to anyone, mainly because I never really cared how my words affected people but, although I hadn't really done anything wrong except speak my mind, I couldn't leave him in the state of being upset with me.
I pushed the backdoor open but stopped short when I noticed Rachael sitting at the kitchen table humming quietly as she read a magazine.
Charles put a glass he had been drinking from into the sink before walking over to her to kiss her.
”Are you ready to go?” She asked playing with the hem of his shirt. I couldn't help but grimace at the sight of them. Charles had been married to Rachael for much longer than he had known me and they obviously shared a completely different relationship, but it was jealousy that fanned my chest now.
“Sure” He said. Before catching a glimpse of me at the backdoor where I was still standing. “Would you mind if Claudia came along?” He asked, his hand stroking the back of her head.
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