Displaced

Timber - Forty-Two

Chevelle was gone for an hour. Paul left as soon as he heard the balcony move, and he took Monique with him. I wasn't about to complain. Being left alone with her wasn't something I felt ready to do just yet. Maybe the next day, or the day after. Though, I don't think Paul's relieving me had anything to do with my ability to babysit. It had to do with Chevelle.

"Are they gone?" she asked when she walked in.

"Yup," I replied, getting comfortable in what was fast becoming my chair in the living room.

She let out a soft sigh of what had to have been relief. "How did it go?"

"Just one, for now. Paul came by, we chatted, he showed me how to do a few things, and then he left again. About two seconds ago, actually."

"He scared of me or something?" She laughed and sat down on the couch once her shoes were off. I was glad she wanted to talk to me instead of just run to the bedroom and hide. Something about her in general seemed different.

I shrugged and stretched out, my body growing restless. "He probably had other places to be, and I don't think he wanted to overwhelm either of us in one day. How was the group?"

Her body tensed some and I immediately regretted asking her more. Still, she didn't run away or give me a snarky reply so progress was being made. Instead, she was quiet for a long time. Then she hugged her knees to her chest.

"It happened. There isn't much to say. We all took turns talking about our feelings when it came to being brought here. Everyone has different opinions about the whole thing. Most fell in line with what I feel, but some were...happy?" She shook her head. "It kind of baffled me, but then they explained where they originally came from and it kind of clicked. Makes me wonder about Lara sometimes. Like, how is it that she can be so cool with everything even though she's so far away from her family?"

"She probably is better off."

And I hated saying it, admitting it. I didn't want to be a better caretaker for her than her own parents. There had to be more to her story than being abandoned on a regular basis. I wasn't ready to open that can of worms, though. I didn't want them to know quite that much about me just yet, and I didn't want to know so much about them. Selfish, but I don't think I could handle the additional emotional baggage just yet. Talking about the past always brought more out.

Chevelle didn't do anything outside of occasionally glance my way. It was hard to tell if she agreed with me or not. After a moment, she said in a soft voice, "A lot of people are. Some of the women came from abusive homes or felt so worthless they just wanted to kill themselves."

I nodded, wanting her to know I was listening, but didn't say anything because I wasn't sure what to say exactly. A member of my entourage taught me all about effective listening a number of years ago. Many people I did philanthropy with had dark, terrible, or all-around depressing stories. It was important to just listen sometimes, even though everything in my nature wanted to comment or fix something. I hated doing nothing. Sometimes, nothing was the most important thing I could do. It was a hard truth to swallow.

She must have not known what to think of my silence either, because she gazed my way from under her narrowed brow. "I've never been in a more draining place in my life. At the same time, I liked being able to spill my guts without being judged."

"I wouldn't judge you," I mumbled.

"You're a lot different to talk to. You talk about how you feel as if you need to be strong all of the time, that's how I feel too when I'm around you. Because I have to protect you. Everything that happens to you falls on my shoulders. How can your protector, your knight in shining armor be a wussy?" She cracked a small smile.