Sister Mother

Chapter 18

Addie's secret Leo notebook

Lee,

Your letters are poetry. Except I can read them without rolling my eyes and cursing at Shakespeare for inventing poetry. Did he? People act like it. I don't know. What I do know is that when I read your letters, I feel better. So, I'm going to write you things that you'll never read because I'll die if you do. This is not me admitting I like romance. This is just me using an outlet. My secret Leo notebook.

I need to be the Addie you think I am. The Addie that most people see--the short, disabled, broke, young and immature girl that has no clue what she's doing--has reached the peaks of insecurity and insanity.

I want to be whoever you're crazy enough to love.

The smart, ambitious, sexy (sexy, you actually think I am sexy, so you're insane too) woman who can weather any storm. I miss that Addie. That's the Addie my parents chose to leave Gabe and Beatrice with. She's got her shit figured out and doesn't cry herself to sleep . If I call you, you'll rush over here and help. I almost want that. I should want that, but I don't. There are so many people that don't believe in me, and I need to prove them wrong. I need to prove myself wrong. There's an Addie inside me that wants to do this solely because my parents believed in me. They knew me better than I do, and they trusted me. I need to be that Addie and save myself and my family. I hope that makes sense.

I can't walk, by the way. I've gone through over a dozen orthopedic surgeries to keep the few abilities I have, and now I can't walk. My parents would weep if they knew, because they know I've spent my entire life fighting to keep walking. I told Mags not to tell you because I'm ashamed. It's shallow, petty and insecure but I cannot have you know how far I've fallen. I haven't slept in my room in 2 weeks. I sleep downstairs in the living room on the couch because I can't climb the stairs. I rely on my brother and sister to bring stuff to me. I'm supposed to be taking care of them, but I'm dependent on them.

I miss you. Your letters are the best part of my life. I'm never going to let you read this notebook, but I've got a bunch of compliments I'll say to you. If things ever get better. I love you so much that it hurts. I like the letters that you send me, but this is not a love letter. This is me spit balling. You will not read my spit balls.

-Adds

⫷👁⫸

Addie

Child Protective Services works fast.

A home study was conducted the day before Leo left burgers on our porch. They came to our house when our home-care nurse, Marlene, was infusing Gabe and I with Vimizim. We were hooked up to our IV pumps while CPS opened every closet, cupboard, cabinet, inspected every light switch and walked through every room, including our parents' room. They took notes, asked us questions and made us all feel like we were on trial when it was just a lazy Friday afternoon. When they left, our house didn't feel like a home anymore.

Uncle Jason dropped by nearly every day since Beatrice's accident. Gabe, Beatrice and I told him everything about her wrist, the custody case and my hips. He was sympathetic to both Beatrice and I about our physical detriments. He asked if we needed anything. As for his reaction to the custody case, I left the room before I could see him make one.

I convinced Gabe to defer a semester rather than drop out of school. He got a job selling Apple gear at the mall. The night after Beatrice's accident, I showed him how dire our financial situation was. The mortgage was quickly draining us. Now that he was home and working, some things were easier. But I still couldn't walk, and I also couldn't drive since that required putting weight on my legs. I relied on Lyft drivers whenever Gabe worked.