Ian and Brice
Chapter 4 (Brice)
Copyright 2021 by Heather Rose Brown

In this chapter, Ian reveals another bit of his past, which starts Brice thinking about her biological parents. Those thoughts lead Brice to asking one of her foster parents a question she'd never had the nerve to ask before.

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While waiting for Trish to change, I sat in my usual chair at the dining room table, Mae sat across from me, and Ian plopped into the chair beside me. When we were all settled, Mae smiled at my new friend and said, "That top looks very nice on you."

Ian's brow creased as he asked, "What top?"

My foster mom pointed to his chest and said, "The lavender one you're wearing."

"Oh ..." he said while crossing his arms. "Umm ... thanks," he added as he slid down in his chair.

(Dangit!) I thought. (I hope I didn't wind up pushin' a cisgender boy into wearin' girl clothes. Of course, he *did* choose what he's wearin' over a more boyish t-shirt.)

I dug out a chunk of Mae's famous egg salad from my sandwich, popped it into my mouth, then licked the tangy, creamy goodness from my fingers while studying Ian. The way he slouched in his chair, and generally held himself, didn't seem at all girlish.

On the other hand, the fit of the blouse he wore made him look ... curvy. Well, he wasn't *really* curvy, but he also wasn't as much of a fence post as most boys. Something about the way he looked, combined with his body language, started tickling an old memory awake.

The memory flitted away when Trish sauntered into the dining room. She straightened one of the long, poofy sleeves of her gauzy white blouse as she sat, then smiled and said, "Thank you for waiting for me."

Ian sat up straighter while watching Trish sit, "Wow," he said, "you look ..."

After watching my friend blink and stare for a few seconds, Mae reached out and squeezed Trish's hand, then said, "You look as beautiful as ever."

Trish blushed under the blush she was wearing, then reached from my hand, and asked, "Would you like to take the first turn at giving thanks, honey?"

I nodded and smiled while slipping my hand into hers, then turned and held my other hand out to Ian. When I saw him tense, I thought, (Uh oh ... is this one of 'em times hands *ain't* okay?)

While I was trying to figure out if I'd messed up again, Mae reached for his other hand, then asked, "Would you be okay with giving thanks with us, before we eat?"

Ian looked from me to Mae a couple of times before holding hands with us. "I guess so," he said while eyeballing the crustless sandwich on his plate.

Trish gave him a worried look, then said, "Ian ... sweetheart ... I'm so sorry. I should have checked with you first, instead of assuming you'd be okay with this."

"It ain't somethin' I got problems with," he said while shrugging. "There'd been plenty of kids at the shelter who said prayers before eatin'. I'd usually bow my head when other kids 'round me did."

We were all silent while taking in what my friend had said, as well as what he didn't say.

Mae leaned closer to him as she asked, "Did you feel pressured into joining them?"

He looked up and said, "No ... not really." His jaw tightened for a moment, then he squeezed his eyes shut and said, "Even though I'd kinda given up on prayin' after my mom passed, bein' 'round other kids who could still do it..."

His face started to crumple. "I just wanted to feel what I used to feel, so I'd join in, hopin' I'd just ... just ..."

Tears were streaming down Ian's cheeks when he ran from the dining room. Choked sobs echoed from the living room, followed by the pounding of feet going up the stairs.

Trish hung her head and said, "I can't believe I didn't think to ask."

Mae patted my other foster parent's hand, then said, "I'll go check on him," while standing.

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Once we were alone, Trish lifted her head, and gave me a watery smile.

I smiled back, then said, "Hold on." My silverware rattled when I yanked at the paper napkin by my plate. After dabbing at the dark line leaking from the corner of her eye, I said, "There ya go."

Trish half-stood and kissed me on the top of my head. "Thank you, pumpkin," she said as she sat again. "I don't know what I'd do without my budding beautician and fashion consultant."

I smiled and said, "You're welcome, Mo--" A painful lump in my throat cut off the last word. "Umm ... sorry," I said as my shoulders sagged.

Trish tilted her head, then asked in her most motherly voice, "What are you apologizing for?"

"I almost called ya M--" I frowned and thought, (Why can't I say that one word?) then said, "I've just ... I've wanted to call you and Mae somethin' special, but whenever I try sayin' it, I feel so guilty, which makes no sense at all, but I still feel it."

Trish slid off her chair and kneeled beside me, then brushed my bangs out of my eyes as she said, "Whether you call me Trent, or Trish, or ... anything else, it always feels special to me, because you're special to me."

I smiled and said, "You're special to me too." My smile fell when I added, "Just wish I'd get over the guilt I feel whenever I try callin' anybody 'sides my bio mother my ... urmm ... that name."

"Sweetheart, it's okay if--"

"No!" I shouted. "It *ain't* okay! After she and my ... other bio kicked me out, I shoulda just wrote 'em off. But, for some stupid reason, I still can't stop hopin', if I wasn't such a freak, they'd ... maybe ..."

A whimper slipped out when I thought about all the awful names my bio mother had called me, while my bio father just stood there with that hard look in his eyes. Trish wrapped her arms around me when I started crying. Even though I couldn't process what she was saying while she rocked me, the warmth in her voice came through loud and clear.

After Trish dried my tears with her napkin, she helped me blow my nose. Once I was mostly snotless, I said, "Wow, I ain't cried like that since ... well ..."

"Since Richelle left?"

I bit my lip and nodded. (Even though I'd understood why he ... she had to go,) I thought, (it still hurt when she moved in with her grandma.) Out loud, I said, "I just can't figure out why I'm actin' the same way 'bout my bio 'parents'."

Trish tucked the used napkin into the pocket of her denim skirt while asking, "Why's that?"

I looked down at my knees and said, "Well, Richie really meant a lot to me. She still does. She'd been like a big br-- urmm ... sib to me. But ... after the way my bios did what they did ..." I thumped my heels on the legs of my chair, then said, "I mean, how could I still ..."

Trish reached under my chin, then tilted my head up, until I was looking into her sparkling grey eyes. She pressed her lips together, and looked at me for a long time, then said, "Sweetie ... who we care about, and why we feel that way about them, isn't always easy to understand."

"But ... how can I still care 'bout 'em, when I got you and Mae?"

My sometimes foster mom, who was also my foster dad, gave me a warm smile, then said, "It's because you have such a big heart. You can care about a lot of people."

"Why..." I swallowed the ache growing in my throat. "Why did they stop carin' 'bout me?"

"I don't think they st--" Trish frowned, then said, "Okay, I only know what I was told about your biological parents, so I'm not in a position to say what they think and feel. None the less," she said as her fingertips brushed my cheek, "I can't imagine how anyone could not love such a sweet, precious child."

Hope and fear swirled around in my chest."Do ya ..."

Trish held both my hands in hers as she asked, "Do I what?"

I shrugged and said, "Sorry, it ain't a fair question to ask."

"Why would you think that?"

"Well ... 'cause you're a foster parent, and foster parents is s'posed to take care of ya. And ya *have* taken care of me. You've also made me feel safe, and protected. But ... askin' for more'n that ain't fair."

She gave my hands a gentle squeeze as she said, "Honey, there's *nothing* you could ask for that would be too much. So, whatever you want to ask, I promise, it'll be okay."

"Do ya..." I swallowed again, but the lump wouldn't go away. "Do ya ... love me?"

"Oh pumpkin," Trish said as she wrapped her arms around me again. "Yes, I love you." Her silky hair brushed my face when she bent her head down and smooched my nose. "I love you with all my heart, and always will, no matter what."

My eyes started leaking again, but I was smiling at the same time. "I love ya too," I said as I hugged back. I almost added, 'Mom', but I still couldn't get the word out. I sighed with frustration, then rested my head on her shoulder, and hoped what I *did* say would be enough to show how much she meant to me.