Fractured Fairy Tales: A SaSS Anthology

by Amy Marie

The woman looks sadder as she says, "Brittany, let's have a talk."

  It’s not polite to correct people, but I automatically tell her, “My name isn’t Brittany.”

  She looks startled at first, then she looks at the papers on her clipboard again before she says, “I’m sorry, Britton, I see your name is Britton. That’s a very pretty name.”

  The police are standing in front of the door; he's not going to let me find my mom. The lady gets a cup and sets it on the table, "Let's sit here. Britton, would you like some water?"

  Folding my arms over my belly, I say again, "I want my mom."

  Nodding, she sits at the table and gets another cup, "Let's talk about your mom for a minute."

  "Did the doctor make her all better?"

  She breathes a lot harder as she says, "No, Britton. The doctors couldn't help your mom. She won't be able to go home with you. I need to talk to you for a few minutes."

  "Britton, I need to know if you ever see your daddy."

  This doesn't seem right. "I just have my mom. She's Judy Hilliard."

  "Yes, yes, I know that Britton. I was just curious if you have a dad or maybe a grandparent that you sometimes stay with when your mom has to go somewhere."

  "No, mom says sometimes little girls are special, and their dad can't be with them. He still loves us, but he had to do other stuffs instead of living with us. Someday he might be able to lives with us though." Maybe she knows about my dad, mom says that someday I'll get a daddy. Sitting in the chair beside her I tell her, "My grandma used to rock me when I was a baby because I cried a lot. She was old and mom says she died before I walked. I don’t remember her, but there’s a picture of her and me."

  The woman doesn't talk about my mom at all. She wants to know about a lot of other people I don't know. When she keeps asking me questions I tell her, "Mrs. White that lives across the street, she watches me after school if my mom is at work. My mom is the chef, so sometimes she has to stay at work late." Shrugging, I lift my hands in the air, "I don't mind. Mrs. White sometimes lets me give the plants water. She has a lot of plants."

  "Well, Britton, I'm sorry to tell you that your mom was a lot sicker than the doctors thought she was. They tried really hard to make her better, but they couldn't."

  Crying because that means my mom is still going to be sick.

  "Sometimes, when I see the doctor they can't make me better either. Then I have to miss school. Mom says she has to go to work though, when I'm sick I get to stay home. Mom says that sometimes when moms are sick they still have to work."

  The policeman he makes a lot of noise, he's sad like me now too.

  "Britton, I'm sorry, but your mom isn't going to get better. She died a little bit ago. Until we can find your dad or maybe another relative you will be staying with another family."

  "My mom." The lady keeps talking. She looks sad, but she said my mom died. "But I want her, she said she wouldn't leave me. My dad left me, but she said it wasn't my fault."

  She takes my hand as she says, "Britton, this isn't your fault either. Your mom was very sick, the doctors tried to help her. Until we find someone for you, you're going to have me to help you."

  Putting my head down on the table, I don't want to talk to her anymore. Sniffling, I tell her again, "But I want my mom."

  Chapter Three

  Malinda

  It's after midnight when I'm once again opening my front door. Instead of groceries, this time, I'm carrying a small child as I enter my house.

  After too many failed attempts to find a place for Britton Hilliard tonight, there was nowhere to place her. It wasn't easy, but I was finally approved to keep her overnight at my house, at least for tonight. It might take a few days to find a family member to claim this child. From everything I could learn tonight it really was just the mother and child.

  It takes a minute to turn on the lights; I'm not accustomed to carrying a child on my shoulder. She's a little thing weighing almost nothing, but it's still awkward to carry her.

  As the lights turn on, I see Hali sitting on the back of the chair. She is standing as if to stretch as I walk past her with Britton. She hisses before she springs at me with her claws extended.

  "Halifax, no!"

  Turning to protect the child again, I say, "No, Halifax, bad kitty."

  The commotion disturbs Britton, and she wiggles in my arms as she wakes up. Rubbing her little eyes, they are red and swollen from all the crying she's done tonight. Wanting to reassure her I say, "Don't you worry Britton, the cat won't bother you."

  As if she panics, she says, "Let me go, I don't want the kitty to bite me."

  Letting her down, I laugh because she must think I said dog, "It's ok Britton, she's my cat, her name is Halifax but I call her Hali for short."

  Britton is wide awake now as she says, "No, the kitty bites me. Amber has a kitty, and it bites me when I play at her house. My mom says I can't go there no more."

  That's a strange thing for a child to say about a cat. Most people associate an animal bite with a dog. Cats can bite, but it's unusual for them to bite people. It’s even more unusual for them to bite the same person multiple times. A thought creeps into my mind unless that person is a dragon, of course. That wouldn’t make any sense in this situation.

  Wanting to reassure her, I say, "It's ok Britton, I'll just put Hali in the other room. She won't be able to bite you."

  It takes longer than it should for me to catch Hali. She's in a mood tonight and even takes a swipe at me as I lift her in my arms. Turning her to face me, she hisses, making me change my mind about cuddling her close to my chest.

  After depositing Hali in the basement, I return to Britton to find her crying on the floor. Lifting her in my arms I tell her, "I know this is hard Britton, but tomorrow we will fix some things for you."

  She rubs her face as she asks, "Did you get rid of the kitty? Kitties don't like me. Mom says it's because of my dad that I can't hafe a kitty even though they are soft and pretty."

  Smiling to reassure her, "I put Hali in the basement and she'll be just fine there. I'm sure we just scared her; you know it is very late now. Why don't we get some sleep, and tomorrow when Hali is feeling better you will see she's a nice kitty."

  Shaking her head, she looks frightened as she says, "No-o-o-o mom says that the kitties don't like me because of my dad. He was good, but he can't have a kitty. So mom had to get rid of her kitty. It was named Whiskers because she got him when she was little like me. But we don't have no more kitties."

  "Ok, well, let's get you settled."

  "Will you read to me? Mom says reading good books will make me dream goods stuff. If I skip my story, then the bad dreams will make me cry and I don't like to cry. I want my mom. Is she happy without me?"

  "Oh, honey, I don't know, but I think your mom loved you, and she's not with you so that probably makes her sad. The same way you are sad without her."

  Her little lip quivers as she thinks about what I'm saying. She nods her head and sways a bit on her feet. They tried to feed her at the hospital, but they said she didn't eat much.

  Do kids eat before bed?

  "Britton, are you hungry?"

  She shakes her head then sticks a finger in her mouth as she says, "My mom was the chef. She was the bestest at cooking. Are you a chef too?"

  It's been said a million times that kids are resilient. This is a sad situation, but I can see her bouncing back from this.

  "Britton, I told you that I'm a social worker. Remember, when I told you that I help families, just like your family. Sometimes things happen and people need help. So someone like me will help them."

  "Will you be my mom now?"

  That's one of the hardest parts of this job. At least when an adult asks a question, I can't answer it's easy enough to help them with their fears. For this little girl I don't have any answers that will help her. Hopefully we can find a family member to take her. Otherwise, she'll remain in the care of the state.

  Long aft
er Britton has settled in for the night, I have a hard time getting to sleep. Britton insisted on hearing a story. There was no way I could tell her no, so it took a few minutes to get into it but I was able to tell her a story that satisfied her.

  Lying in my own bed, I'm thinking over the events of the day. I'm emotionally wrung out, it's my brain that doesn't want to shut down for the night. My thoughts run through all of my cases for this week. I’ve had everything from the family that lost a child today to the mother that needed help so her babies don’t go to bed hungry tonight. There's also the boy in high school that will be emancipated next week. In our little corner of the world there are a lot of families that need help and we are there for them every day. My mind finally settles in to think of Britton Hilliard. The little girl lost her mother tonight, and might not have any family. As my thoughts drift away I hear her crying probably in her sleep. Needing to make sure I check on her before finally collapsing in bed for the night.

  Chapter Four

  Britton

  "Are you sure you don't have a hollow leg under that table?"

  Taking another bite of French toast, I laugh as Malinda asks me again about my leg.

  "No!"

  "We checked your right leg, maybe we should check the left one."

  Laughing at her, I squeal, "My legs not hollow."

  She laughs as she flips another piece of French toast onto a plate. She turns around again and I stab my fork into more bread. My mom says that good food is always fun to eat. French toast is our favorite. She won't make it anymore, which makes me sad. Is it ok to eat French toast without her? Looking at my plate there’s more toast and syrup, and it tastes so good.

  “Well, Britton, you should eat all the French toast until you just can’t eat anymore.”

  She sets a big plate on the table with lots of French toasts. She sits at the table and puts some toast on her plate too. Chewing my food, I take a big drink from my glass of juice. Mommy gives me milk with my French toast, but she doesn’t drink milk. It's ok, I don’t like milk either.

  “Britton, do your friends call you by your name, or do they call you something else?”

  “My teacher, Mr. White, calls me Britton, but my mom and the other kids call me Britt.”

  Setting my fork down, I watch as she cuts her toast before she asks me, “What do you like to be called Britton?”

  Shrugging I squirm in my chair as she keeps asking me questions. It’s ok if I like to be called Britt. She asks me again about my dad, my grandparents, and other people.

  “Britt, did you maybe go visit someone for Christmas last year?”

  “No, mommy had to work, so I went with her for some of the time. She says that sometimes people don’t have anybody to be with for Christmas and that’s really sad. Like me and mommy, but now it’s only me.” She told me to be a brave girl and that I could cry when I need to, sniffling I ask, “Will I live with you now?”

  Looking sad, she tells me again, “We’ll find someone for you to live with. You might get to go live with one of your uncles soon.”

  Chapter Five

  Malinda

  One of the hardest things for me is to try and not get attached to every child that needs my help. My mother warned me when I chose social work as my major that there would be a lot of hard days. It’s another example of me not believing what she said, but she was right.

  It took a long time for Britton to settle in last night. She seems to understand what’s happening, but sometimes it takes a little longer for kids to realize what death really means. It’s especially difficult if the child only has one parent.

  This part is never easy for me, I’d gladly take all of the kids, but that’s not my job. Instead, I’ll be the one to watch over her until we find a family member to take her, which shouldn’t take too long.

  “Actually Britton, you will probably go to live with a family until we’re able to locate one of your family members for you. Then you will get to live with them from now on. So when it’s time for Christmas, you will be with them.”

  She’s small enough she can lay down on the chair, as she lies back she says, “I like my home, can you live with me there? I like my bed.”

  She doesn’t say anything else as she quietly cries to herself. Needing to comfort her, I kneel beside her chair to rub her back, “Britton, this is going to be difficult for you, but I promise that I’m going to make sure that you are taken care of.”

  Seeking comfort she crawls off of her chair into my arms. Unable to reject her, I hold her tight as I stand up, she clings to me as I walk into the living room.

  After listening to her cry herself to sleep last night, it was difficult to fall asleep. At the hospital it took hours of asking questions to get enough information about this child to take her into state custody. From everything I’ve found so far the girl and her mother were alone here. The only people that know the woman or child are a neighbor, the school, and the people at the restaurant where the mother worked. It appears that until a few years ago, the woman was living in Florida, then she moved here when Britton was about a year old.

  “Britton, hey, would you like to meet my cat?” It’s a weak attempt to distract her. There’s never been a reason to have kid things at my house, but after this, I need to invest in some things, especially some books. It’s only been a few weeks since I was approved to be a foster parent for the state. My goal is to be able to help out in an emergency situation; this just so happens to be the first time I’ve had to do this. “Would you like to meet her, her name is Halifax but I call her Hali for short.”

  Rubbing at her eyes, she looks at me, “She was a mean kitty last night.”

  Laughing softly, I agree with her, “She was, wasn’t she? I think she was just tired, it was really late.”

  Nodding, she says, “Mommy says I can’t have a kitty and that I should stay away from them, but if she’s your kitty, maybe I can play with her. Will she do tricks if I give her treats?”

  Reaching to the table, I pull a couple of tissues from the box, “She doesn’t do tricks for treats, that’s more of a dog thing.” She covers her mouth as she giggles. I set her beside me on the couch as I say, “Do you want to wait here and I’ll get Hali?”

  She eagerly nods her head as she sets down her crumpled tissues, “I loves the kitties! Can I hold her?”

  Taking her tissues to discard them, I tell her, “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll bring Hali back, and she will be happy to have our attention.”

  Calling Hali, I go down the basement stairs. Of course she doesn’t make a sound when I call her name, she also doesn’t rush to see me either. Usually when I get home she will at least look at me, sometimes she wants some attention and will rub against me until I either feed her or give her some love. Today must not be a day she needs my attention.

  After searching for her, I finally see her jump at the window. “There you are!”

  As I lift her from the window ledge, she gives a throaty purr as I kiss her head, “We have a special guest and I want you to be nice to Britton. She’s only here with us for a few days, she lost her mommy last night.”

  Hali keeps her eyes closed like she’s ignoring me. She isn’t; she’s just humoring me as I walk upstairs with her. From the other room I can hear Britton scurrying, she must have gotten off of the couch. Calling to her I tell her, “Britton! I have Hali here to see you.”

  As I enter the living room I see that Britton is eager to see Hali, smiling I kiss Hali and remind her again, “Let’s be nice to Britton. She needs some love today.”

  Britton claps her hands waiting to see Hali. This kid is too cute. If I’m not careful I’m going to get attached to this child. That’s the one thing I can’t afford to do is get attached to Britton or any of the other kids that I’m responsible for. It complicates things for the child and the foster parents. That won’t be the case with Britton though, she has some family, and they will most likely take her to live with them.

  As I approach th
e couch, Hali starts to wiggle in my arms like she wants to run. Gripping her a little tighter I remind her, “Remember we need to give Britton some extra loves today.”

  Instead of her settling down, Hali starts to hiss and scratch at me. This is strange behavior for her. Struggling to keep her in my arms I tell Britton, “She seems a little unhappy today. Maybe she needs some loves from us too.”

  The look on Britton’s face turns from pleasure to fear as she screeches, “Is she going to bite me?”

  “No!” Calming down, I coo to my cat, “Hali doesn’t bite.”

  As I say that something changes in my well-mannered cat. She struggles more before she scratches in the direction of Britton, and howls. My cat has never howled in the past, not ever.

  Britton stands on the couch as she starts to scream, “No, kitty! No, kitty!”

  Something in her scream scares me, causing me to lose hold of Halifax. As Hali jumps from my arms she runs out of the room and Britton is crying again. This wasn’t the same as earlier when she was missing her mom. This is a cry rooted in fear, she is genuinely afraid of my cat.

  Looking around I don’t see Hali, she’s usually very friendly. Picking up Britton, I try to comfort her and get her to settle down. She’s hopping like a rabbit as she continues to cry, “No kitty!”

  “Britton, it's ok, it's ok. The kitty ran to the other room.”

  At first, she doesn’t respond to me, so I have to repeat it several times before she stops hopping long enough to look around the room. Her left-hand rubs at her eyes as she says, “Is the kitty gone?”

  “She’s in the other room. Actually, she probably went back to the basement. Are you…”

  I don’t finish saying anything before Britton starts screaming with an ear-shattering scream, “No kitty!”

  She said earlier that a cat had bitten her. This could be a reaction to that event, but something tells me this is different. It takes a long time to settle her down again. While she stands in fear on the couch watching around her like she’s going to be attacked I think back to when I was a child. We had a lot of animals growing up, never a cat though. The one time a cat came close to our house it bit my brother. He didn’t say much about it. He was probably ten or eleven at the time, so he pretty much used any curse word he could think of in the telling of the story. The cat had bitten his leg, the area had been red and swollen for days.