the three of us {chim}

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𝗸𝗶𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗲𝘆'𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝘃

Camille's parents left for work, so I decided that it would be best to stay with her. I texted one of the guys who works in the kitchen and told him to open up the diner for me. No better way to spend a personal day than with Camille. She's currently telling me about what she does around the house while they're gone.

"They're not around much, they're always at work. They leave at eight and come back at 10. But they always lie, they're never back at 10, it's usually 11 or 12."

"12?! What parent leaves their kid home for over 12 hours?" I ask, realizing that I was judging her parents, which probably doesn't help.

"My parents," she shrugs. "But I enjoy the alone time. Don't get me wrong, you being here with me is the most fun I've had in years in this house, but sometimes a little alone time can be nice."

"Oh, I'm sorry sweetheart," I say with a frown. She deserves more than what this is. She's not a kid who can be ignored, I mean, just look at her eyes. How could you stay away from those?

"There's nothing to apologize for, you're not them. They do this and they have to realize that because if I tell them all that I've told you, they won't listen. They'll think I've gone mad and send me to the psychiatrist again." 

Again?  I think to myself. I want to ask what that means, but I wonder if it'll be too much. I decide that we've become close enough and ask her what she means by it.

"A couple of years ago, I was having pretty vivid dreams about my real Mum and Dad. I told them about it and how I wanted to meet my biological parents. They thought I was crazy for thinking that they wanted to see me—whoever they are."

"Camille, can I ask you something without you getting mad at me?" I ask.

"Sure."

"Do you still want to meet them?" I ask, but she gives me a questioning look. I still haven't learned her facial expressions yet, so she's a bit hard to read.

"Of course! I would do anything just to see a picture of them," she answers. With that excitement, I wish I could help her, but maybe she doesn't want my help.

"Listen, I want to help you," I tell her. "I want you to find out who your real parents are. I can see how unhappy you are here and it breaks my heart. You're so talented with the violin, and football, and I'm sure you have more musical talent. You're an amazing kid, Camille. You're a kid that can't go to waste. I know that you love your parents, but don't you want more happiness?"

𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲'𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝘃

I'm taken aback by Kimberley's words, she really wants to help. Finally, someone understands what I've wanted for years. Someone knows that I want this so badly that they're willing to help without getting anything in return. I know she can help me, but do I tell her about my lie? Do I tell her about my real birthday?

"Of course I do," I answer, realizing that I had been silent for a few moments too long. "I want your help, I do. I just need a little time to think. Is that okay?"

"That's completely fine, sweetheart. Take as much time as you want, I'm gonna be around for a while," she says and strokes my hair. I smile at Kimberley's words as I feel so thankful to be so close to her.

"It's getting late, I remember Cheryl telling you she'd be home by 3. You should go before she gets there," I say. I'm not trying to get rid of her, I would actually her rather stay.

"Oh, I guess you're right," Kimberley says. "How about when I have another day off at the diner, I can bring Cheryl here with me? We can all hang out together."