Dr. Winter continued his visits with me over the next few days. I hate him. He says he’s helping me. He just keeps pressing.

I laid back, my eyes fixed on the tiled ceiling. In my mind, arguing was just as futile as counting the holes on the ceiling tiles.

“We’ve made progress, don’t…” he stops himself. What was he about to say. Why did he stop? “You shouldn’t keep all of this inside.” He speaks to me tenuously, probably remembering my comments about everyone telling me what to do. He changes the subject. “How did you feel that day?”

“I can hardly remember it.” I lie, hoping that he would not press the issue further.

“Can you tell me what you do remember?”

Another question. There’s no end to these. I’m tired of the questions that only seem to make me sad or get me into trouble. Dr. Winter waits for my response to his question. In my mind, I’m not in a hospital room cuffed to a bed. I’m shackled to another moment, another room, another image, another—me.

“Erin, whatever you are going through, I want to help. I’m trying to help. What is it that you want?” I could feel him prodding me forward. Coaxing me to share more.

“I… I want to go home.”

“That can only happen if you let us help you.”

I want to argue. I know where this goes. A voice within me whispers Just cooperate, they’ll let you go. “Sorry, I… I got distracted for a moment. What were you saying?”

---

Dr. Winter and I were in the middle of another one of our ‘sessions’

I have my eyes closed. Listening to his voice. It’s hypnotic. “Where are you now?”

I silently recall the morning at Ellie’s house. Her mirror, the one that I stared at for those brief moments. Why was I repeatedly returning to that moment? “Ellie’s room. A mirror. Her mirror.”

Again, Dr. Winter waits for me. “Ellie had the idea for us to wear our uniforms to honor Coach T. She later asked me to do the same to show support for the squad.” I take a breath. Coach T. I missed her funeral. That realization haunts me. “I…”

“How did you feel about the idea?”

“I was worried that I’d be an embarrassment. That somehow I would be a distraction from the death of our coach, Coach Tompkins.” I pause waiting for a reaction from him. He’s waiting for me to say more. I dreamily continue. “Lisa thought it a good idea to make me as passible as possible, so we had extensions added to my hair to give it some length. Ellie’s sister did my makeup as I got ready the next morning and went to school.”

“How did you feel when you got dressed?” his question catches me off guard.

“When I got dressed?”

“The clothes, how did they make you feel.”

“The uniform made me uncomfortable. It was so… revealing. The skirt was really short, I wasn’t used to having breasts and…” I sighed. “I guess girls are used to wearing something like that and being on display. But there was something else.” I kicked myself for saying that last part. “At least I wasn’t the only one, Ellie was wearing the same outfit so I wasn’t alone.”

“I want to get back to that ‘something else’ you were feeling. Was it exciting for you?”

“Exciting? No.”

“Were you aroused?” his question more direct.

“Aroused? Why would I be aroused?”

“Some boys get aroused when they wear clothing of the opposite gender. It’s perfectly natural.”

“I wasn’t aroused.” I say to him, puzzled.

“Then what did you feel?” his questions were getting more probing.

“I felt… naked.” I open my eyes and look over at Dr. Winter. He’s giving me a stare that makes me nervous.

“Are you sure you weren’t feeling anything… sexual?”

“Emotional is probably the better word. There was a moment. Ellie wasn’t there. I was staring at her mirror. I finally saw myself in that mirror, not Aaron… Me. I felt something within I had never experienced before. I was different some how. I don’t know what it was, it was something precious to me.”

“How so?”

“Have you ever lit a candle with a match?”

“Yes I have. You may have to explain that a bit more…”

“There’s a cadre of emotions you go through when you strike the match knowing that you only have so long before the flame burns out. There’s that need to act. Something that compels you to lite the candle quickly enough before the fire goes out. You have within you that feeling of past frustrations of when the match is extinguished. The fear that you may prematurely extinguish the flame. Then the relief as brief as it is when the candle glows from the fire. And finally that desire to protect the candlelight from what would extinguish it.”

“Go on.”

“When I saw myself in that mirror. I had the sensation that I was given a gift of seeing a part of myself that I hadn’t realized was there until the ‘match was lit.’ Now I don’t want that candlelight to ever go out.”

“So how did that affect you?”

“Throughout the day, it was like everyone that saw me recognized that I was different from the boy who attended school the day before. Even the girls on the squad who knew me, looked at me as if I had come out of a cocoon or a shell. They sensed I was different somehow. It was like the Aaron, that everyone once knew, was the darkness that surrounded me, which was now pushed away from the light revealing the candle. To them it was as if I had dropped the charade of pretending to be a boy. They preferred me rather than that guy I replaced.”

“Then why would you want to take your own life?”

I take a breath, my heart started to sink within me. “I couldn’t escape… him.” I’m not sure Dr. Winter understood what I was saying. He sat there quietly as I composed myself. “When Ellie used him against me. I realized no matter how I felt or how real my life started to feel, I still have his past to deal with. It didn’t matter, I couldn’t separate me from him.”

“You are him. You can’t avoid that. That’s something you have to deal with… the consequences of his actions.”

“I’m not trying to avoid the consequences of those actions. Just everything reminds me that, physically… I’m him.”

“So you see yourself as female?”

“Honestly, I don’t really know what that means. I just feel that I’m… I’m not him.”

He pauses for a bit, probably trying to gauge whether he thinks I’m trying to ‘pull the wool over his eyes.’ “Would you do something for me?”

His question came off as odd. Why ask for something? “Ummm, okay.”

“You say you want to go home.” he pauses again and I nod. “I don’t want you to answer this right now. I want you to think about this before you give me an answer.”

He didn’t have to ask. I look up at him sensing what he’s thinking, “Who wants to go home? Erin the girl from that day or Aaron the boy from before that?” He seemed caught off guard that I would anticipate his question.

He adds, “Yes, but more to the point what is ‘home’? What is waiting for you at ‘home’? Your life with the challenges of being a different gender than that of your personal history? One where you are a young woman who grew up as a boy? What is that worth to you?”

---

I was growing more frustrated with Dr. Winter. He was asking for answers I couldn’t give. Combined with the visits from Ms. County Whats-her-name and Dr. Cho’s week long absence, I was becoming more angry. I think Mr. Gallows was growing weary of it all as well. On our last visit with Whats-her-name, who I’m starting to refer to as ‘The Shrew’, he asked her to leave and not return after her last verbal assault had me crying. She yelled at me that she didn’t care for the ‘feminine delusion of mine and to drop the act’. She had threatened to place me and my sister in foster care and throw my parents in prison for their abuse. I was wailing so hard I was told I had to be sedated.

Mr. Gallows, I mean Matt, has been the only bright spot in all this. Of course, Dr. Cho is nice too, but I can’t seem to trust his ‘agenda’. Supposedly, he has the same aims as Dr. Winter. I can’t help but feel that I’m being ‘good cop-bad cop’ by Winter and Cho. Matt did bring over a surprise for me, a visitor. Much to my relief to have some contact with the outside world, it wasn’t who I had expected. Behind Matt was the young counselor from the school district, Mrs. Yates. I wondered how she was able to visit though I dared not ask. I was just glad to see someone familiar.

“Mrs. Yates!” I could feel my heart bound to see her.

“How are you feeling?” she asked. “Are they treating you well here?” She walks over to my bedside. My smile pushes my cheeks to the bottom of my vision. Thankfully, I’m no longer restrained. Though the door to my room is always locked. I guess to keep me from escaping again.

“I was starting to think that everyone forgot about me.” I say cheerfully. Matt retreats into the background. Mrs. Yates comes closer and strokes what’s left of my hair. The extensions have been removed and I feel diminished with my shortened crop. I reach my arms up to give her a hug. I have had little energy to even get out of bed these days. I felt some of my strength return in reconnecting with someone that wasn’t here to poke and prod me. I continue, “it’s good to see you.”

“The girls on the squad miss you.” She whispers with a wink. She raises her voice so its audible “The District wanted to see your progress and a report on the incident with you in the playground at McKinley Park.” I look at her questioningly. “While I am contracted with the District, I have been asked to continue working with you by your parents as well.”

“Is there still the restriction of visitors?” I ask sadly.

“For the moment. Mrs. Conroy (the Shrew) still insists that you be placed in foster care after your time here.” Evelyn says sadly. “Matt here is trying to make sure that your interests are taken care of.”

“Oh, how are the girls handling all this?”

“They’re concerned about you of course, as was I. Your friends care about you a great deal. Many of them were deeply hurt because of the incident at the park. They want you safe and they want you back though.” I felt my chest tighten at that. I miss them so much.

“Are they still cheering?”

“For the moment, no. The district has yet to hire a new coach. I’m not sure that there is any interest from the district to continue the cheerleading program there. The lack of interested students, budget shortfalls and the incidents to you and Amber have really made the district cautious.”

“So, I killed the cheerleading program?”

“No, No. Don’t think of it that way.” Mrs. Yates tries to steer me from my despair.

“How am I supposed to think of it?”

Mrs. Yates eyes look upon me with resignation. “I mean you’ve tortured yourself enough. I know you feel like this was all your fault. The weight of that is crushing you. In the end, where does it leave you? Everyone has forgiven you for the prank and that is all that you’ve done wrong. It’s time you forgave yourself.”

“It just feels like there’s always going to be something more. One more consequence, one more reminder that I can’t escape. How can I just let that go? I feel responsible for all of it.”

“Is that why you’ve retreated into this ‘Erin’?” I knew instantly what she meant. How it must look. “Are you sure that this Erin is really who you are? Could it be that you are escaping into a version of ‘Erin’ that you feel is more palatable?” I feel a chill run through me. “If this version of Aaron is your escape aren’t you just hurting yourself more? Torturing yourself more?”

“I don’t know how to explain it.” It felt more than ‘an escape’. But was that just it? Was I just punishing myself more? “There is something more.”

Mrs. Yates takes a seat on my bed and grasps my hand. “Is there?”

“There is something more that I felt. Something within me that I felt that day. It started in front of Ellie’s mirror.”

“The young woman that was with you when we first met. As I can recall you and her are close friends? I do recall you telling me about the morning before you left for school. You mentioned that you were sad that you were wearing your sister’s uniform, and that you felt guilty that you had robbed her of that experience. Was there something more that you are comfortable with sharing?”

“It was a mixture of emotions that I couldn’t place at the time. As I was looking at myself as a young woman for the first time. There was pride that I felt in the way I appeared. A vulnerability that scared me. A sadness that overcame me; that none of this was real—that it was all an illusion. Then I looked down at the uniform as Ellie came in. Amber’s uniform. I felt that sadness for a what I had taken from her. There was also a jealousy that I felt that this was something that Ellie, Amber and the rest felt—pride. It was something that I could only get a glimpse. A reality that wasn’t meant for Aaron.” I say with sadness creeping into my voice.

I pause for a moment hoping to collect myself. She bade me to continue. “When I met the girls in front of the school that morning, I didn’t know what to think. Or what they would think. When Monica thought that it was another prank, it hurt me, deeply. She had accused me of preparing another stunt. But then something happened. It was as if she saw how much I wanted to connect with them. That exiling me would be devastating. She told me later that she saw my longing to connect with the rest of the girls. That I wanted so much to be a part of them. Then she stopped me from leaving and asked me to stay. I thought they were accepting Aaron into the group. Monica showed me that it wasn’t, it was me that they were accepting.”

“Who is the ‘me’ you are referring? You seem to differentiate between Aaron and ‘me’. Do you feel like you are someone different?” I could see Matt shifting in the background. Mrs. Yates rubs my forearm with concern. Easing me.

“It was like when I saw myself in Ellie’s mirror, a different world opened to me. I felt different, reacted different. I was allowed to be different. It was like I gave myself permission to experience that difference. I think everyone picked up on that.”

“So have you shared this with the other doctors?”

“They wouldn’t see things from my perspective. When I was sharing with you, I couldn’t piece it all together. Not at that time. I just knew everyone was reacting to me differently. That incident with Taylor?”

“Yes, you were pretty shaken up after that.”

“I don’t know why I reacted that way. Scared, vulnerable, it was different from being bullied. It was just different. When I was bullied, I was always afraid that they’d physically hurt me. Afterwards, I felt angry that I had been a victim. This was nothing like that. It was like he was threatening my soul, something within me. I begged him to let me go. At the time, I didn’t know what I was protecting. He was trying to drag me back to ‘Aaron’--as if Aaron was my jailer. That if he returned me to Aaron’s prison I’d never be able to live. I was starting to realize what freedom from Aaron was like. I only recovered from the desperation and fear I felt when I realized how Monica was reacting. How angered she was at him, how protective she was of me. How protective they all were of me. I’m one of her girls and one of their sisters. I don’t want who I am to go away.”

My discussion with Mrs. Yates continued for another hour. I was pleased that she promised to try to visit me again. I was hoping for more word on the squad. She promised that she would pass along my love to the girls. Everything turned around from there.

In the days that followed, I was introduced to the Shrew’s replacement. A lovely angel of a woman by the name of Patricia Simpson. She insisted that I do not call her Patty. Tricia, or Patricia but never Patty. She was a county social worker and had a motherly demeanor that my own mother would envy. I think it was Matt that was able to expel the Shrew. While she was eager to hear Dr. Winter’s and Dr. Cho’s assessment, I had my doubts as to what their recommendations would say about me. No doubt they were well skilled, I had my doubts that their reports would reflect more on what they heard and less on how I felt.

To my surprise, Patricia did mention that she spoke with Mrs. Yates and Dr. Corning. I had never heard the term ‘Gender Dysphoria’ until Patricia had mentioned it and though she was concerned that the opinions of Dr. Winter and Dr. Cho did not contain a diagnosis of Gender Dysphoria, at least one opinion, Dr. Winter’s, suggested that I be allowed to explore that with a psychologist that was more versed in the field of gender and sexuality. Patricia explained to me her reservations and that I had much larger issues to parse through first. While she did receive the recommendation from Dr. Winter and Dr. Cho, I remained in the hospital for another month before I would be released.

---

It’s January and I’m going home. To tell you the truth, I don’t know the full story of why I was allowed to go home. Much of the last month was a blur. My birthday came and went, so did Thanksgiving and Christmas. I was so desperate to leave that had they asked me to ‘cluck like a chicken’ or ‘bark like a dog’, I would have done it happily. I walked to the car clutching the journal they had made me write in and a sheet containing a serie of appointments with Dr. Winter until a gender specialist could be put in charge of my mental health.

I’ve kept my hair length, the extensions are gone. What hair is left tickles the back of my shoulders as I ride home with Dad. I had the passenger’s window open and feel the breeze against my face. I smile as I close my eyes and breathe in ‘freedom.’ I’ve missed the cold fresh air. My sweatshirt and sweatpants keep me from freezing in the breeze. Dad says nothing, though from the moment we stepped out of the hospital, he’d look at me with a look that feels like he’s treating me like I’m made of glass.

The sun rides lower in the sky as it normally does in winter. It lights the clouds in a bright blinding orange. It’s beginning to set as we reach the house. Dad is silent on the drive home. I sense a growing distance between us. I want to ask what he’s thinking. I’ve been asked that question more times than I can count. I don’t ask, fearing that if I step out of line, he’ll turn the car around and head straight back to the hospital. I turn to face him. He’s got a beard now. The whiskers have a salt and pepper look to them, kind of rugged.

We pull into the driveway. I don’t think that I even waited for him to shut the engine off before I unbuckled my seatbelt and pulled the door latch open. My feet, ensconced in Ellie’s sneakers, hit the ground; they’re the only thing that’s left of the uniform I wore that day. I’m not even wearing socks. I give the car door a slight nudge and the door slams closed. I’m greeted by the stale taste of the early evening air that surrounds our home. I shiver a bit and start to run for the front door.

“Slow down, honey.” My dad cautions me, his first words to me since we left the hospital. “We just left the hospital, I don’t want you falling and hurting yourself.”

I slow to a jog, my heart already thumping. I’m out of shape.

He walks up beside me. As we approach the doorway. “Honey, can you hold on for a sec?” My pace slows to a stop as does his. He’s looking at me. His eyes searching my face for something. I feel the anxiety within me growing.

“Dad? Is something wrong?” He blinks a few times subtly shaking his head.

“No, sweetheart, there’s… there’s nothing wrong.” He says plainly. Whatever he was going to say to me. He changed his mind. He unlocks the front door and pushes it open, then takes a step back. I pause there for a moment. Normally, he’d push the door open and walk right in. I turn my head wondering why he didn’t just walk in. He nods his head encouraging me to enter first.

Walking into my house was familiar and not at the same time. I expected to see the carefully adorned, plastic, Christmas tree in the living room. There is no sign that it had been put up. Neither were the stockings hung at the fireplace. Being only a week and a half after Christmas, I wondered if the family skipped Christmas. My heart sinks.

There was the smell of dinner, well, mom preparing dinner. A casserole, mixed with something lemony. The aroma hits me the moment I walk through the door. I close my eyes and take in the smell of ‘home’.

Amber was on the couch, headphones blaring some sort of tune. She has a pencil in her teeth, hair in a ponytail and a spiral notebook on her lap. Along with her purse and backpack, her books strewn atop the coffee table. It was odd to see her studying. The semester hadn’t begun and wouldn’t start for another week. I saw her face light up as she sees me enter the room. I hadn’t seen her in over two months. I had missed her so much. She yanks off her headphones and slides her notebook between the cushion and the backrest. She dashes over to me not even bothering with sliding her feet into her slippers which rest on the floor by the couch. I’m greeted with a hug. The grip of her embrace crushes me. I begin to tear up at the joy of seeing Amber again. I feel Dad scoot around me and Amber.

“I’m so glad you’re home.” She whispers into my ear.

“Me too, I’ve missed you so much.” I choke back a sob. Amber retreats and I watch my Dad walk into the kitchen. She takes my hand and pulls me further into the house. I stand in the middle of the room, trying to remember the last time I stood here. It felt like ages ago. Back then, I was sad and alone. Now, now we are all home.

Amber lets go of my hand and caresses my hair. “You’re letting your hair grow out.” She says with a smile.

To my surprise, I see Patricia walk out of the kitchen after Dad entered. Somehow, she was able to untangle the mess and kept me out of foster care. I did however, have to be held in the hospital while I was being evaluated. Seeing her was both a pleasant surprise and a worrisome development. Why was she here?

While I’ll never truly know what happened, in my imagination, word spread among the squad, by either Lisa, Amber or both, that I was not allowed to have visitors. A few well placed phone calls to Mrs. Yates and probably with a few subtle hints from Matt to the county after my confrontation with the Shrew and she was reassigned replaced by Patricia. It seemed to make sense in my mind, I knew Mrs. Yates and Matt did not have any real ‘pull’, I wishfully thought it true. There was some mention of apology from a representative at the County Social Services Department. My only real clue that one of the girls ’got the ball rolling’, was Matt’s allusion to one of ‘my pushy friends’ as he tried in vain to get the Shrew reassigned. My money is on Monica.

Over the past month, I had almost weekly conversations with Patricia. She told me that I should seriously consider returning to my life as Aaron, though she wouldn’t ‘force that upon me.’ She did ask me a few questions about being ‘transgendered’ and ‘gender dysphoria’, terms that, before this whole mess started, I had never heard before she mention them. She did show some surprise at some of my answers while I was in the hospital. After a few more discussion she seemed to relent on my return to Aaron. That brought me some relief.

Much of my isolation issues had been brought to light during the discussions with Dr. Cho and separately with Dr. Winter, but we didn’t scratch the surface of why they persist. Leaving the hospital didn’t mean I was cured, just not quite as erratic. I was relieved that I was no longer considered a danger to myself or others. All this meant, was that I had to continue treatment on an outpatient basis. Despite the limited budgets of the county, I would be allowed to continue being treated by the hospital. I had to choose between Dr. Cho or Dr. Winter. Each had their unique style. Dr. Cho had a more compassionate amiable style. Dr. Winter was cold, straightforward and engaging. In the end it was the availability of Dr. Winter that made the decision. Don’t get me wrong, I still hate him.

Surprisingly enough, I thought I would be on antidepressants. I think either Dr. Cho or Dr. Winter could have prescribed them to me. That seemed like a normal course of action given what little I knew of how the ‘crazy’ people, like me, were handled. Though, with two different psychiatrists, I would imagine that neither would want to prescribe anything without consulting with the other. I was thankful for that. I wasn’t sure what the anti-psychotics would do to me.

It was Dr. Winter that had asked a pediatrician for assistance on hormone treatments and an Endo-something doctor as well to prescribe them. I overheard discussions on medication to suppress my development into an adult male. There were discussion that went back and forth about permission to administer the treatment, they ultimately settled on having those discussion with my parents when I left the hospital. In later discussions with me, they told me that a hormone regimen would buy me time to ‘make some decisions.’ Something that I was hopeful would be a possibility.

“Erin,” Patricia greets me. “I wanted to see your home life before you arrived. I also wanted to make sure that you were aware that I would be checking up on you twice a week. Just to see how things are going. Did you remember what we talked about last week?” The conversation I had with her last week was to try to ease my way back into my life. That immersing myself would, perhaps, overwhelm me.

“I remember Patricia. Are you staying for dinner?” I asked, I knew my Mom would have offered out of courtesy. I thought Patricia would naturally decline. I wanted to give her another opportunity to join us.

“No, I’ve got a family of my own that will get restless if I don’t get dinner on the table soon.”

“Okay, I understand.” I look down at my sneakers. I feel the corners of my mouth drag downward.

The tall blonde walks over to me and gives me a hug. She whispers in my ear. “I love the sneakers, but you should give ‘his life’ real consideration.” She pulls back from me. “I’ll be back in a few days.” She hands me one of her business cards. “Call if you need anything, okay?”

I slip the card in my pocket and I open the front door for her.

Mom walks in from the kitchen with a casserole dish in her hands. I freeze nervous about her reaction. She looks over at me, gives a soft smile as Amber rushes to her to take the casserole dish from her. Mom warns her that the dish is still ‘too hot to touch’ and tries to hold on to the tray. It isn’t, she’s not even wearing pot holders.

Mom sets the casserole down on the dining table. There are four place settings instead of the usual smattering of bills, circulars, and books. She takes her seat next to Dad who is at the head of the table. Amber sits next to mom and I sit across from Mom with Dad to my right.

It was odd having us all around the same table at the same time. This dinner was the first meal I had with the whole family in ages. Amber would normally be out with her friends. Dad would work late and Mom would usually prepare dinner and we’d serve ourselves when we were hungry. I would normally take a plate of food to my room close the door and work on my homework.

We started dinner off silently. I wasn’t even sure that there was much we all had in common to carry a conversation. Breaking the silence, I turn to Amber, “Hey sis, how’s Lisa and the rest of the girls?”

Amber for her part was caught off guard. I don’t think that she expected dinner conversation. She looked over at me unsure if I really asked a question or not. “Oh, uh. Lisa and Cindy have had more time to spend with each other since there are no more cheer practices. Monica, Dianna and Jennifer are trying to work on other activities to help with their college admissions. I think that they are looking into other possibilities for scholarships since it doesn’t appear like they’re getting a new cheer coach. Ally and Casey joined yearbook to have it as part of their extracurriculars for next year so I think they’ve given up on the squad as well.”

“Oh, they’re not going to hire a new cheer coach?” I say sadly pushing the peas around my plate. “I didn’t realize. What about Ellie?”

“She keeps to herself nowadays. She’s really a different person since…” Ambers voice trails off.

“Maybe, I should talk to her.”

“Sweetheart” Mom interjects, her fork clanks against the plate in front of her, “I think you should be more concerned with your own problems.”

My eyes dart to my mom. Then to Dad. All three of us were staring at Mom.

“Look, honey,” mom continues, “I think it’s nice that you care about others, but don’t you think you have enough to worry about?”

“I think your mother has a point.” Dad adds. “Give it some time.”

I was about to say something when Amber chimes in. “So, have you thought about your return to school?”

“What’s there to think about?” I swivel my head to face Amber.

“Well, are you going to return to Bay View or are you going to switch schools? Are you going to attend school as a girl? What about all the work you missed during the first half of the year? How are you going to handle all of that and the counseling sessions?” Amber grabs my Mom’s empty plate. Taking a cue from Amber, I grab mine and my Dad’s and I walk in to the kitchen Amber trails behind.

Mom enters the kitchen behind us with the leftovers. “Your sister has a point, Honey.”

Our house doesn’t have a dishwasher so plates have to be washed, dried, and stowed. I stand at the sink taking the plates from Amber. “I know it’s a lot, and I’m not going to try to handle it alone.” The faucet begins to fill the sink soaking plates.

I get an a stare from Amber and Mom.

“What?” I ask wondering if I’ll ever be treated like I was normal ever again.

Mom breaks the awkward pause, “Oh nothing dear. It’s just that you rarely ever asked for help before.”

I’m not used to family dialog. It’s pleasant, but unusual. I don’t think we’ve said this much to each other in years. I don’t miss the days of “yeah”, “okay” and “uh-huh” conversations. “Is there a plan for my return to school?”

“We’ll try to make things work as best as we can, but we’re limited on options.”

“Do you want to go back to Bay View?”, Amber asks while turning off the faucet for me.

“Where else would I go?”

“Central”, Amber says plainly as she fills the dish soap dispenser from the industrial sized bottle of dish soap.

“It’s too far for you to walk and I’m worried about you taking the bus there.” Mom adds with a hint of motherly concern. “You are a few years away from driving. Besides, I don’t think we’re going to be able to afford another car.”

“Well looks like it’s settled. I return to Bay View.”

“That hardly sounds ideal. Mom, is that really a good idea?”

“We don’t have a lot of options here. Unless we move, which we can’t afford, or we find a better way for you to get to school, you’re going to have to return to Bay View.”

“Are you returning to school as my sister?”

I grab a sponge and work silently as I start giving the plates a once over. Mom’s curious about my answer to the question as well.

“I was hoping that would be an option. Dr. Corning seemed to think that it was okay for me to do it. I suppose we may need to clear that with her replacement. What happened to her anyway?”

“Dr. Corning?”

“Yes, I’d hate to think she really lost her job over all this.”

Amber hesitates before answering, “They moved her into a district level position. She won’t be running a school, but she’s working on district policies. I guess they couldn’t fire her, but having her at the school would probably serve as a distraction.”

“Have you met the new Principal?”

“No, She hasn’t taken over yet. I think she will start in a week or two.”

“She starts at the beginning of the semester? Who was running the school when Dr. Corning was put on leave?” My question goes unanswered.

Amber puts away the dishes as Mom retired to her bedroom with Dad.

“Wasn’t that weird?” Amber says as I cross the threshold exiting the kitchen to the living room.

I look back as Amber folds the dish towel and places it to dry on the drying rack. Then she follows me out into the living room. “Dinner together? Just the family?”

“Not counting Thanksgiving and Christmas, when was the last time we had a meal together?”

“I can’t remember the last time that happened.” I sigh. I grab Amber’s notebook from the couch and place it on the coffee table then take a seat at the corner of the couch. “What happened to Christmas?”

Amber sits next to me. “Christmas? That was last week.” she says, plainly.

“I know, what I meant was, what happened to all the Christmas decorations?” a sad expression comes over Amber’s face. “You all skipped Christmas?”

“Mom thought we shouldn’t go ‘all out’ on Christmas this year.”

“All out? What are you talking about? I thought that we’d at least have the stockings and the tree still up.”

“We didn’t put up the tree or stockings this year.”

“What are you not telling me?” I could see her expression turn from sad to worried.

“It’s not your fault, okay? Please don’t blame yourself.”

“You weren’t here for Christmas.” I say sadly realizing why Patricia was here. “What happened?”

“You don’t have to worry about it. Honestly, it’s over now.”

“They took you away, didn’t they?” I can see it in my sister eyes. The heartbreak she must have felt as they took her away from our parents. “How can this not be my fault?” I could see the tears welling in my sister’s eyes. She pulls my head on to her shoulder. She’s trying to keep me from crying as well.

“It's okay now, we’re both home. Can we put this behind us? Please?” Amber implores.

Dad comes down the stairs and sees us on the couch. “You two should get to bed.” Amber stands and collects her stuff. Dad disappears into the kitchen and emerges with a glass of water.

Amber walks over to him, plants a kiss on his cheek, “Night, Daddy!”

I watch, wondering if I should do the same.

“Good night, Gumdrop,” as he watches her walk up the stairs.

He looks over at me as I begin to make my way to the stairs. “Honey, hold on a minute, okay?”

We wait and hear Amber’s door close. He walks over to me and I feel him searching my eyes.

“Daddy, what is it?” I ask playfully mimicking my sister with a smile.

He smiles back. “We’re at Daddy, huh?”

I give a bit of Amber’s giggle before dropping the attempt at humor. “What is it that you see?” my solemn tone returns.

“See?”

“Yes, you’ve given me that look three times today. The first time at the hospital, the second before we walked into the house and the other just now.” I can feel my heart sink, “You’re looking for him aren’t you. Wondering where your son has gone to?”

A smile comes over his face. “No, it not what you think.”

I search his face for the telltale sign that he’s about to lie to me. I find none.

“When I look at Amber, I’m reminded of my sister, your Aunt Kathy. You… ” he chokes up a bit, pauses and takes a sip from the glass of water. “When I look at you? I see your mother when she was your age. I don’t think she sees it yet, though.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I think she will, someday.” I smile wider and cast my eyes downward at the complement.

He kisses the crown of my head. “Good night, Honey, don’t stay up too late.”

I stand there as he turns and walks up stairs. Tears begin to race down my cheeks, I feel my way to the couch and take a seat. I wipe the tears from my eyes and smile.

It’s not perfect, but I’m home.

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Author's note: I thank you all for your patience in the delay release of this chapter. I am hopeful that there is more to follow. I could not leave the story where I had left it. If the fates are unkind and this is my last entry for this story, then I am glad to leave Erin with the possibility of a good ending. It's not perfect, but there is always the possibility of something greater for our protagonist.

I want to thank you all for reading, commenting and encouraging this story.

I love you all!
Hugs,

Leila