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CHAPTER TWENTY Who You Could've Been
WARNING: This chapter contains ableism, child abuse, and attempted murder of a child. Please read with caution.
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HERE IS A MEMORY.
Cecelia is ten years old, newly adopted into the Olivier family. Even though she's known her parents for a few months now, she still struggles to call them 'Mom' and 'Dad'. A seven-year-old Eva and a three-year-old Jules are wary of her; they don't realize she's their sister yet. The only one she really hangs around is the sibling her age, and that's only because they share a room. Cecelia doesn't know who he is yet—even he's still figuring it out—but they like the same things and play together whenever they have the opportunity. Still, they don't feel like siblings yet. Just friends.
Then there's Uncle Richard. He's Mrs. Olivier's—that's what she calls the woman meant to be her mother, for now—brother, and has come over for dinner a few times. He lives in a small apartment and has a girlfriend named Sandra, though based on the way Uncle Richard talks about her, it's likely they won't be together for much longer. He's got tousled brown hair, blue eyes, and a beard he rarely trims. He often wears sunglasses, even when he's indoors.
Uncle Richard—for he insists on being called that, refusing to answer to the polite Mr. Portland—has been there from the beginning. Every single time pre-adoption Cecelia met the Olivier family, he was glued to their sides, his keen eyes scrutinizing her. According to Mrs. Olivier, he was the one to have discovered her file. He is the reason that they ever ended up taking her in.
Cecelia likes Uncle Richard. Mom and Dad are nice, but they have to divide their time between four children and can't always be there when she needs them. Uncle Richard, on the other hand, always makes time for her. Just her. He's the one who brings her to the park, who offers to take her on drives. He's the one who buys ice cream for her when she requests it and holds her hand, even though he doesn't really do it for the other kids. It makes her feel special.
Cecelia is ten years old, and she is sitting in the twenty-four-hour diner with Uncle Richard, sipping from a vanilla milkshake. Time After Time plays quietly in the background, and, although Cecelia doesn't know the lyrics, she taps her foot to the beat, anyway. Uncle sits across from her, eating from a basket of fries.
Then, he speaks. "Hey, Cecelia. I got you something."
"Huh?" Cecelia looks up from her milkshake. She is not yet the ghost she will be, yet, but the past five years have aged her regardless. If you peer into her eyes, you can see the seriousness swimming in them. A seriousness no ten-year-old girl should deal with.
"I don't know if you're too old for this, but you told me last week you hadn't had a stuffed animal since you were five years old. So, um... I got one for you."
