Destined For Them (Story 3)✔

~12~

~Caroline~

I drove myself crazy...Drove myself crazy for three days trying to find that fucking dinner invitation. It had to be somewhere. Unless whoever this person was had come into my home and taken the evidence away. It was a bit far fetched but I didn't disregard that possibility. Even went as far as checking the surveillance; which came up nothing. It had to be in this house somewhere. Sol wasn't even giving me the time of day to try and explain things. It seemed my husband was convinced I was involved with someone-Clark Turner if I wanted to be specific. He really had lost his fucking mind for even thinking it. 

On top of all that, Lydia had started having dreams. Or rather nightmares that had her waking everyone in the house at four am. Screaming, flailing, big real tears. It was obvious they had something to do with the Fosters but I just could not bring her to talk about it. By the time dawn came she acted as if they had never happened. What did I expect? She had been taken from her home and kept away from her family by a hateful bitch for nearly two weeks. That could be traumatic for a child her age. I was almost considering my mothers advice. 

This morning was like the last two; I sat in her bedroom with her, brushing out her growing brunette hair and trying to get her to talk. Actually, neither one of those things were going very well. "So you don't want to talk about it?" I asked, fighting her to stay still while I attempted to tame her curls with a brush. It had been so easy before...she used to be so cooperative. Used to ask me to fix her hair. 

"No! Mommy, stop it's hurting." Lydia wailed-'hurting' not coming out quite right- and managed to wiggle away from me to the other side of the bed. From there she crossed her tiny arms and glared at me. Don't lose your shit, Caroline, I told myself because that was the last thing she needed right now...me acting like Lyza Foster.

"We have to take care of your hair, baby or it won't be pretty. Don't you want hair like Mommy's?" I asked her, sitting the brush down as some act of reassurance. I didn't want my daughter to think I would ever hurt her for something so ridiculous. I'd never had a problem with this and I didn't see how Lyza had. 

Every bit stubborn, she lifted her chin, "I don't care." 

Usually this was the part where I told her we don't say things like that but I didn't. I got up from the bed with it's princess themed linens and went to the door. "You know, you are really hurting Mommy's feelings." My words didn't even phase the little girl; she just went back to playing with her doll. I left the room then, deciding a little distance would be good. Perhaps later, after I returned from my shift at Penny's, I would ask her about the rough night again...or maybe I would have her father do it. She certainly seemed to favor him more. How horrible was that? 

Her father, who had agreed to spend the day at home with her. Sol could work from home, I couldn't. Really, we needed to find someone we knew, someone we trusted to babysit but that list was nearly nonexistent. I went down to the study from Lydia's bedroom, where I found him at the desk nose deep in something. "I'm leaving now. Lydia is upstairs." I said from the doorway. It just really baffled me that he would think I'd have anything to do with Clark. I couldn't fucking stand the guy, much less give him a second of my time...intimate time. 

"Alright," Was his reply and he didn't even look up at me. I just itched to tell him to get over himself and listen to what I had to say. Wanted to scream it at the top of my lungs...Because that would end well for me. 

"Maybe she will let you brush her hair out. It's a mess and she is freaking out on me." I explained next, half expecting him to look up and frown. Show a little bit of fucking concern but that didn't happen. 

"Alright," Sol repeated. Okay, so it was clear my daughter and my husband wanted nothing to do with me today. I clenched my jaw so that I wouldn't open my mouth and totally freak out. Whatever. Maybe my stepson would have a different attitude about things when I picked him up after work from his visit to his mother-who was now in the hospital. If Sol really thought things would turn out like they had with his marriage to Miriam, he was wrong.