Quiet | Kaylor

I

It was almost nine thirty when Taylor got the call from their social worker.  "Hello?" she asked, reaching over and muting the episode of Game of Thrones playing on the TV. 

"Hi, Ms. Swift-Kloss?  Um, we have a kid, a four year old girl, who needs a place for a day or two, probably.  She was in another house but the foster parents haven't renewed their license and there's also been a few complaints from other kids about them so we think an investigation's gonna be started."

"Okay, when is she getting here?" Taylor asked, sliding her legs off Karlie's lap and standing up.  By this time, Karlie had figured out what was going on, and began making her way upstairs to put sheets on the bed in one of the guest rooms. 

"In twenty minutes or so." Richard replied.  Taylor rolled her eyes, but remained polite over the phone.  The whole foster care system was an insane mess, and the last-minute, disorganized nature of it all annoyed her to no end.  But none of frustrations could compare to the feeling of being able to help and give back, even just a little.

Many of these kids didn't have access to the loving, nurturing environment necessary for people their age, and Taylor and Karlie always tried to create one for them, no matter if they only stayed with them for a couple days or weeks. 

Taylor had been busying herself with finding where Karlie had stashed the extra toothbrushes and only half-listening to Richard's spiel.  But the second he said, "Nobody else would agree to take her because they don't want to deal with a child with autism," Taylor stopped in her tracks.

"You didn't think that would be valuable information for me to know?" she questioned. 

"Oh, um, I'm very sorry, ma'am, but we literally don't have anywhere else to bring her," he replied, pleadingly.

Taylor sighed, massaging her temple.  Karlie gave her a questioning look, wondering what was happening on the other side of the phone call.  "Of course we'll take her, but you can't just keep these important details from us.  Neither of us have any experience with autistic kids."

"Don't worry, she's high functioning.  She won't be a problem.  She seems normal to me," Richard hastily added.

"Is she in the car with you right now?" Taylor asked.

"Yes." 

Biting her tongue to avoid giving him a lecture on basic politeness and how "normalcy" doesn't exist, Taylor said, curtly, "Well, we'll see you soon.  Goodbye."

"What's going on?" Karlie asked, pressing a kiss to her wife's temple.
"Richard's bringing a four year old girl over in a few minutes.  She's probably just going to stay for a couple of days until they can find somewhere else, but he neglected to tell me she's autistic until a couple of seconds ago."  Taylor paused.  "That's not a problem, is it?" she asked suddenly.

"Of course not," Karlie reassured her.  "We've got some time until she gets here to do some quick research if you want.  The room's all set up.  And I doubt she'll do anything but sleep tonight anyway, seeing as it's almost ten."  Even in the earliest days of their relationship, Karlie always knew what to say to calm Taylor down.  So the two of them curled up on the couch in the living room with the cats, and read articles until the doorbell rang.

Both women jumped off the couch and walked swiftly towards the door.  Karlie got there first, thanks to her long legs, and pulled it open.  A balding, middle-aged man stood behind a little girl with messy brown curls.  She was looking at the floor, clutching onto a ragged stuffed koala with a missing eye, and a purple Dora backpack. 

"This is Josefina, or Josie," Richard spoke first, "She's four."

"I just turned five," she corrected him quietly.