It was a Friday. Office of Mrs. McKenna; a nice lady my parents introduced me to shortly after we left the orphanage. Parents. It was still a foreign word coming out of my mouth. We've been in this room for quite some time, I haven't been able to answer a lot of her questions but she was still very nice.
"So, tell me more about St. Lorenzo Ruiz, how was your experience there?" she asked calmly, setting her pen and paper into motion to track whatever I was to tell her.
A flood of memories rushed through my thoughts, all jumbled up and incoherent. I remembered the beatings, the older girls, and the communal bathrooms where rumors circulated about a bloodied corpse being discovered there. As a kid, you never really have the big words to describe these big things in a way that an adult understands. I didn't realize that the seconds of silence that enveloped the room turned into a couple of minutes, and Mrs. McKenna snapped me out of it.
"I'm sure you're still processing a lot of things, Cassandra. Might we cut this session short and try again next time?" she said. I nodded in return.
Did I fail? Was saying nothing at all going to have consequences? My mind rattled continuously for answers, creating more questions than the former. We walked back to the lobby where Kate and Fabian were patiently waiting, an expectant expression on both the people that I now considered family.
"She did so good, Mr. and Mrs. Powell" Mrs. McKenna mused, clipboard in hand as she urged me to the play area. The room seemed fun. I sensed some kids playing in the ball pit area, hastily swimming around the pit of colorful plastic spheres.
A tap on my shoulder made me look to my side, a small form of a boy staring up at me.
"Hello, do you want to play tag with me?" he asked as he smiled, his white molars mostly, beaming through my vision.
"Well, I can't really" I responded. I saw the white disappear, he was probably frowning.
"Why not? I'd be fun" he retorted, abruptly pulling on my arm to lead to me a wider area in the play space, causing my sleeve to rise up a bit.
Then, a scream. "Ew, what's that?!" he asked, a terrified tone in his little voice.
Out of habit, I pulled my hand away and crossed my arms. Fuck. He saw the scars, didn't he?
I got out of there as fast as I could, closing the glass door behind me and walking towards the three figures still chatting where I left them. I wonder what's taking them so long.
"-It's my own medical opinion, I think she's suffering from dissociative amnesia. I should meet with her weekly to assess further progress and keep watch for any more symptoms of hidden cases. This is a situation where we have to get authorities involved as soon as possible." I heard Mrs. McKenna whisper incoherently.
I still didn't get what they were talking about. What authorities? Are they going to hire me a private tutor because I missed out on a few things she asked me earlier?
Their hushed discussions halt as they sense me behind them, listening with a confused expression on my face. Kate abruptly turned her back, wiping her face with her hands as she bent down to talk to me.
"It's been a long day, sweetie. I think it's time to go home, yes?" she suggested. Kate, I mean mom, had the sweetest voice known to mankind.
I related her to a warm kitchen filled with the scent of cookie dough baking in the oven and a soothing, radio melody in the background. She also looks like a muted yellow color, in my visions.
"Thank you for meeting us today, Mrs. McKenna" my dad turned to the old lady, his hand gripping my hand a little tighter that day.
We left the clinic with a heavier silence than we started. I slept on my mom's shoulder, her hands absentmindedly running through my hair. I think I could get used to this. The city passed by us in a haze, dark buildings strewn about the horizon. It felt unfamiliar and somewhat daunting, but the hand on my hair and the gentle vibrations of the vehicle steadily made my eyes heavy and lulled me to a deep nap.
I think I could get used to this.
-
The next few weeks passed by rather quickly. I tried my best to navigate around the house to the best of my abilities. The house was a rather intricately designed structure and felt fully lived in more than anything. As Dad would say, it's our little bubble of love just right on the outskirts of town.
My frequent sessions with my psychiatrist eased my adjustment anxiety a bit. We talked about anything and everything under the moon, she felt like a friend who could just listen to me all day. My nightmares were frequent topics of discussion of which I tried to veer off topics too sensitive for my liking beyond that which, thankfully, she obliged and let me talk about other things that interested me. But of course, it had me wondering what end goal in mind she had whenever our conversations would conclude.
Each day me and mom had an agreement to finish, and it was to do at least one new thing together.
Monday. It was my first time trying out crocheting. Mom had a lot of time in her hands because, evident by the collection of sweaters she's knitted all through the years. She said she would make me one soon, I liked that.
Tuesday. My dad and I had been tasked to run some chores together, which was going to the local farmer's market to pick out some produce for dinner that night. My senses were in overload, with bustling crowds of people passing us. The smell of what I presume were bouquet of flowers displayed in a stand nearby. The alluring scent of fresh strawberries playing in my nostrils as we passed the fruits, arranged with different kinds of color. The colors blended beautifully. We picked out some fresh lettuce, mozzarella cheese, and plump, cherry tomatoes from the sweet old man in a small booth we saw.
I really liked my new parents. Unlike my home life in the orphanage, I felt truly loved and important in their presence. I didn't have to fight for basic necessities, didn't have to mind what I wanted to say, my guard had been slowly lifted each day I awoke at our new house.
When days weren't busy. Me and mom the only ones left at the house, I'd stare out the window most of the time. The birds chirping outside bringing some lovely noise as I sat absorbing my surroundings. Sometimes, I'll sit by and knit a different object as best as my abilities. All the shapes and patterns were whack, from my judgement but Mom always proudly stared at it in awe every time.
"Wow! This is some talent right here!" she'd loudly exclaim, lifting up the small garment and analyzing it with a big smile on her face.
I knew it was beginner's bias and the best of my abilities given my lack of both creative and literal vision. But I felt butterflies every single time. Someone finally appreciated me and what I did.
It was one of those random days again.
I didn't know what to do or what agenda to follow. It was still quite early in the morning, the orange sun barely peaking over the horizon. Nonetheless, I lazily got up from bed and stretched. Stepping towards my desk, I feel a sense of comfort staring out into the still-not-quite-day sky in front of me, blurs of pinks and yellows with a hint of green glaze my vision.
"Hey!" a sudden shout came from somewhere near my vicinity. With a confused expression, I tried to gauge where the voice was coming from, but then a sudden crack next to my window.
Someone was pelting rocks at me.
Out of reflex, I ducked; careful not to be hit by who knows what perpetrator was hurling things at 9 in the morning.
"Hey, where'd you go!?" a voice of a boy, seems about my age, shouted out again.
"I'm hiding! Stop throwing things at me!" I replied back, frustrated to be inconvenienced so early in the day.
"Oh, sorry" he replied, the throwing noises stopped.
I stood up again, analyzing my surroundings; from what I could gauge, it was a young boy in a red shirt, a collection of mini pebbles right by his side; I presumed he resided by the other house right in front of ours.
"I was trying to wave at you but you just kinda' just ignored me-" he half-shouted now, seemily scratching his head.
"Wait, are you blind?"
"No, I'm visually impaired, they're two different things" I replied bitterly, crossing my arms in defense. "Anyways, so that's why you decided to start throwing rocks at my window!?"
"Oh sorry, I was bored so I just did it" he said with reason, shrugging his shoulders. "Oh, I forgot, the name's Luke!"
"Hi, Luke!" I exclaimed, perking up once I heard his name.
"Well, aren't you going to tell me yours?"
he asked, dumbfounded. I shook my head 'no' in return, not trusting a random boy who almost cracked my window with my identity.
"Okay then Ms. Mysterious, wanna play instead?"