Quiet | Kaylor

XI

Warning: descriptions of abuse

Chelsea had been invited over for dinner, but Taylor was cooking like it was Thanksgiving. It really was something she enjoyed, and she aimed to try out one new recipe per week. "Karlie loves me too much! Her opinion is probably biased!" Taylor would always say when accused of forcing Chelsea to be a test subject.

"Yeah, you're right. She told me you were a good driver once."

"I am a good driver!"

"If that's what helps you sleep at night..."

Anyway, these dinners were mostly just an excuse to see Chelsea. Tonight's experiment was spaghetti squash. As Taylor cooked up a storm, Chelsea and Josie migrated into the music room.

"Do you remember the chords I was teaching you earlier?" Chelsea asked, helping Josie up onto the piano bench.

"Mmmm."

"Okay, well, this is how you play a C..."

The two of them entertained themselves with that for a while. Chelsea would play something easy enough for Josie to emulate, and she would follow her. They both hoped that these informal piano lessons would become a regular occurence. Eventually, Josie got bored of learning chords, scales, and Mary Had a Little Lamb, so she begged Chelsea to play something.

"Matilda, please!"

"Pretty please with a cherry on top?" Chelsea teased, her hands already finding the first chord.

"Pretty please with a cherry on top," Josie echoed.

They sang through Naughty a couple times because it was Josie's favorite. There was a slight pause before Josie asked Chelsea to play something else, something difficult.

Before the record deal, before the guitar, before the songwriting, Chelsea had been a pianist. And a pretty good one, at that. She'd been taking lessons for as long as she could remember, and classical music had been an outlet for her long before pop had. There was something refreshing about playing Mozart for a child who would always be impressed at how quickly her fingers flew across the keyboard, rather than read critics' poor reviews of her pop performances because she didn't show enough skin or have good sex appeal (Not to mention that she was a lesbian. That didn't exactly help her chances.)

That's why Chelsea was so grateful to Taylor for letting her express herself in the ways she felt comfortable, and also allowing her to make music her way, which was sometimes infused with influence from her love of classical piano.

The way Josie watched her, eyes wide with wonder, made Chelsea realize how lucky she had gotten all over again. Things hadn't always been this good. And for many people, they never would be. She abruptly stopped playing and tried to swallow against the lump in her throat.

"Why'd you stop?" Josie asked.

"Sorry, I was just...thinking."

"About what?"

Chelsea sighed. "About how lucky I am. To have met the people I've met."

"I'm lucky cause I met you. And Karlie and Taylor," Josie said.

"Me too. I..you know how I told you that my birth family aren't the nicest of people?" Josie nodded. "Well, my um, my birth mother...I want you to know that I'm telling you this because I know you've been through it and you understand, but also because I want you to know that things will get better for you. I just...my parents used to hurt me. It wasn't a lot, it wasn't all the time, until it was. And even when I got out of that situation, I didn't feel like I could talk to anybody about it. So I started doing really stupid stuff. Shit, don't tell your moms I said 'stupid.'" She paused for a second. "SHOOT! I meant shoot!"

Josie was giggling.

"But, anyway, I just want you to know that there are people who understand. And I heard you went to therapy the other day. That can be...really hard sometimes, but I want you to try for me to keep going and keep getting better."

"Okay. You worry too much."

"I know," Chelsea said, trying to wipe away her tears without Josie seeing.

There was silence for a few moments. Josie twirled a strand of hair back and forth around her fingers. Her mind starter to wander back to before she'd been taken away from her birth parents. To the day she Did Not like to think about. She shivered. The scar on her shoulder almost stung.

This house was nothing like that. Karlie and Taylor were nothing like that.

Something made her want to tell Chelsea.

Maybe it was what Dr. Jackson had told her: to try and tell somebody something she was scared of telling them. Maybe it was because she didn't want to be the only one who knew anymore. Maybe because it was she knew that Chelsea would understand.

"Taylor and Karlie don't hurt me."

"And they never will," Chelsea responded quickly. "I know that's so hard to believe but they never will. Parents aren't supposed to do that. Ever. You know that, right?"

"Mhmm." That's what everyone told her afterwards, at the hospital. That's what she was trying to believe. "Chelsea?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something?"

"Of course."

Josie sighed, rubbing her face with her hand. "One time my...my birth mommy got really mad for some reason--sometimes she got mad when I didn't even do anything--and...and she was cooking water on the stove and..." She swallowed against the lump in her throat.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Chelsea quickly assured her.

Josie pressed on, ignoring her. She needed to say this now, otherwise she would be too scared later. "I don't know, she got mad at me and she threw it...threw the pot at me and...and...and..." The tears streaming down her face made it difficult to continue.

"Oh babe," Chelsea said as Josie collapsed into her arms. "It's okay, you're okay."

"Josie? Everything okay?" Karlie said, peeking into the room. "Chels...what's going on?"

Chelsea was holding back tears herself. "I...I was trying to tell her how lucky she is, and how things are going to get better for her, and she started telling me about something her birth mom...something her birth mom did to her." Her words ended in a squeak.

Karlie took a deep breath, sitting down next to them on the piano bench. She wrapped her arms around the both of them, pulling her foster daughter and the girl who may as well have been into an awkward hug. "Chelsea," she whispered in her ear, "It's okay. She'll be fine. I'll take her." Then, to Josie, "Hey, buddy, it's Karlie. Do you want to tell me what's going on?" Josie whined as Karlie pulled her body away from Chelsea and sat her on her lap. "You're okay, sweetheart, you're okay. Do you want to talk?" Josie shook her head. "Okay. Do you want me to rub your back?" After a slight hesitation, Josie nodded and Karlie ran her hand up and down her spine.

As Karlie comforted Josie, Chelsea slipped out of the room unnoticed. She ran without making a sound to the bathroom, where she finally let herself cry. A jumbled mess of feelings washed over her. What Josie said had upset her more than she wanted to admit. She tried her best to avoid triggers like that, but she also wanted Josie to trust her and feel like she could come to her to discuss her problems. It was a catch 22.

And, creeping behind these other feelings, there was a slice of jealousy. Josie had been through hell, sure, but she had gotten out when she was young enough to forget most of it. The rest of her childhood would be spent with a loving family who could support her every need and want.

Chelsea never had that. Not until she was 16 and, by some lucky miracle, a video of a song she wrote popped up in Taylor's recommended on youtube. So Chelsea stayed in the bathroom dwelling on what she never had until Taylor called out that dinner was ready. Then, she dried her tears, told her reflection in the mirror to appreciate what she had, and went to join the family she'd chosen for dinner.