Sweet Girl

You're Asking Me To Trust You

Stevie noticed the time, mindful of Bella's anxiety. She knew that she would have to bathe her that night, and felt butterflies banging against the lining of her stomach. She started to conspire with herself on how she could make it an enjoyable experience, or at least, less traumatic.

She wished, as her and Karen went shopping in the cusp of fall, that they had picked up some bath toys. She'd bought most of Bella's toys and now-belongings for her second baby, the child that she was confident would be born.
She clipped her heel onto the kitchen tile, ridiculing herself.

She was snapped out of her brief self-criticism as Bella scurried along her sight line. She was prancing Elmo around the kitchen surfaces. Stevie shook her head, amused, and stood still, watching Bella experience her first moment of freedom in the house. She ached at the prospect of snapping through her joy, she resented Bella's circumstances, wishing that she knew that bath time wasn't something to fear. Maybe she did know that. But Stevie was frozen, wanting Bella to soak up all the enjoyment from this moment, before she potentially stepped in and shattered it.

Bella showed Elmo the same surfaces numerous times, circling the kitchen island, scooting her toy along the marble like a motorbike. Her head held slightly bedraggled curls, now, after her hair had been left loose all day. She was stretched onto her tip-toes, her tongue poking out of her mouth again. Stevie giggled at Bella's habit. She was excited to unveil more of her idiosyncrasies as they spent more time together.

"Bella?" she called as the tiny figure sped around the kitchen.
"It's time to get cleaned up." She tentatively added. She paused, reflecting on how her briefing unintentionally slipped out with a question mark on its tail.

"Come on, we can play afterward." She stretched out her arm, sauntering over to Bella, who stood still, stubbornly, clutching Elmo.

"Come on," she coaxed through a giggle when Bella pulled her arms against her stomach.
Bella shook her head at Stevie, suddenly glazed with anxiety.

Stevie knelt down in front of her.

"I know that you don't want to. But we have to stay clean, alright? I promise I won't hurt you, I might even let you use my special soaps, would you like that?"

Bella thought on it, trying to decide if this was a safe situation. Her chest began to chill, as her mind was cast back to being left in a cold bath in a locked bathroom, while she waited for her father to come back home. It was dark, aside from the dying ceiling light. The flashing jump-startled her, the brim of the sharp water made her skin tingle. She didn't understand where her father was, she didn't know when he would be back, and when he would get her out and into some dry clothes. She knew, in the depths of her frontal lobe, that Stevie would stay with her, and tend to her afterwards, so, she hesitantly nodded, subtly.

"There's my sweet girl, thank you." She sighed, taking Bella's hand.

Forcing herself to refrain from checking on Lindsey as they swept past their bedroom doors, Stevie led Bella to her bedroom. She prepared herself for the stains of sorrow on Bella's diminutive frame as she closed the bedroom door behind her.

"Okay, come here," Stevie instructed gently, kneeling on the cream rug, pulling Bella's hand back toward her.
She stood in front of Stevie while she was briefed on what was to come.

"We're going to get you undressed, then have a nice bubble bath, and I'll do your hair" she stroked some curls behind Bella's ear.
"and we can choose some jammies together, then Stevie can read you a story. Would you like that?"
She waited as Bella pondered.
She nodded, her joy starting to slip from her face.

"Okay," Stevie got up.
She opened Bella's closet and unhooked a small bath robe she'd found in a department store in Phoenix. She knelt back down and held it up in her right hand.