Don't Touch Her

Chapter Three

Katie invited me to her house often after school. Sometimes I went, sometimes I didn't. Sometimes, very rarely, her parents were there. But I never saw her brother.

Her parents had invited Clara and I over for dinner once.
Clara hadn't known what to say because between the two of us, we were struggling.

We had cut our food supplies down to only two meals a day, and not very large ones either.

So, when Katie's parents popped the question, Clara was almost in tears, and I had to answer for her.

I remember the day clearly. It was getting colder, and the leaves were starting to fall outside. Clara had bought us new sweaters from Goodwill and a jacket once winter hit.

We had walked down to their house, and Clara had cautiously knocked on the door.
Katie had opened it, her parents were setting the table, and for the first time in weeks I saw her brother again.

We talked about different things. How hard it was being a doctor sometimes, how school was going, where Clara worked, or something about Katie, or her brother, Dominic.

But Alan, their father, had asked where we were from and why we had moved. Clara explained we had lived in an orphanage in Arkansas, which was a lie.

And then he had asked about the orphanage, and that's when the table went quiet.

"It was good," I had said finally, hoping he wouldn't ask any further questions.
And then we had moved on. But they knew, I know they knew, as soon as they asked, Clara and I had both stiffened.

Panic set in. I prayed the conversation was never brought up again, I prayed they never found out about our past there.

Katie had looked at me, curiosity deep in her eyes, and I feared she wouldn't talk to me again.

And I remember the way Dominic had looked, emotionless, but completely interested in our sudden silence.

Clara and I had left an hour later.
Before I stepped out the door, their mother, Mini, gave us permission to visit anytime. She looked almost desperate, wanting us to visit, wanting us to feel comfortable enough to tell them certain things once the time came.

And I nodded, smiled, and we had left.

There were things that happened in that orphanage that Clara and I, I don't think will ever be comfortable enough with sharing, trusting someone enough to keep our secrets.

The fact of keeping something secret was a burden itself. I wanted someone to tell them to, to get them off my chest, and hoping they would still see me as they had, hoping they wouldn't see me differently.

But I was thankful. Thankful I had Clara, who knew the things I did, who shared the burden I had, who I could talk to when the memories felt too overpowering.

We had one another, and that's all I needed.