Quiet | Kaylor

II

"Good morning, Ms. Josie," Taylor said while flipping pancakes. The five year old had wandered downstairs, still squeezing that stuffed animal. Her dark brown curls were tousled after a long night's sleep.

"Morning, Ms. Taylor," she replied, shyly.

"You don't have to call me 'Ms.'," Taylor corrected her quickly, "Just Taylor is fine."

"Okay," Josie said, glancing over to the stove. "Pancakes?"

"Yeah," Taylor said. She expertly flipped one. "I hope that's okay with you." Josie nodded. They slipped into a silence which Taylor felt as though she should try to fill. "So, we didn't really get to know each other very much last night. Do you mind me asking you some things?" Josie shrugged, rubbing her cheek with the back of her thumb, a gesture Taylor would soon learn to be a sort of comfort for her. "Okay, what's your favorite food?"

"Pasta," Josie replied with a small smile. "And cheesy pasta."

Taylor chuckled. "Mac and cheese is one of my favorites too. Is there anything that you really don't like?"

Josie shrugged again, "I don't know."

She wasn't really surprised by the answer. After being foster parents for nearly two years, they were used to the uncertainty of kids to refuse any kinds of food, especially if they had ever been deprived of it. It still broke Taylor's heart to think about any child not having enough to eat, but she had almost become desensitized to it by this point.

"Okay, how about any allergies? Are you allergic to anything?"

"Pineapple. It makes my mouth go all funny."

Taylor made a mental note of this, "Good to know." They were distracted by the sound of someone descending the stairs. "Good morning, sunshine!"

"Morning, babe," Karlie mumbled, stifling a yawn. She walked into the kitchen and slid her arms around Taylor from behind, resting her head on Taylor shoulder. "How'd you sleep, Josie?"

"Good," she replied shyly.

"That's good. Does that koala you have there have a name?"

Josie squeezed it tighter and smiled. "Mr. Waffles!"

Taylor laughed. "That's an excellent name. It suits him. Now why don't you and Mr. Waffles go sit down at the table for breakfast."

"Okay."

~*~

Taylor was scrolling through an article on her laptop with a furrowed brow when Karlie came stepped out of the bathroom. Her dripping hair wrapped in a towel, she looked over Taylor's shoulder. "Whatcha reading, babe?"

"Put some clothes on and then we'll talk," Taylor replied, her eyes not straying from the screen.

"Well, if you insist," Karlie said, turning are round to walk into the closet, fully aware that Taylor was sneaking a peek at her ass. She pulled on her pajamas and flopped back onto the bed next to her wife. "I'm dressed now. What's up?"

Taylor sighed. "There's all these articles about autism that I've been getting into, and there's just so much. Like there's all these controversies surrounding," she glanced to the screen, "ABA therapy. And apparently Autism Speaks is a shit charity too. There's just like this whole world that we don't know anything about and I don't know..."

"Okay," Karlie interjected slowly, "But we'll learn. There's no need to get overwhelmed about it."

"Yeah, but there's just so much and so many decisions to be made and I don't want to be a negative influence on if we get something wrong," Taylor continued, disregarding Karlie's advice.