NEGLECTED

Chapter Twenty Nine

FFION BRISDEN

I can't stop shaking out of nerves. It didn't matter that Keaton didn't care what his parents thought about me, as sweetly as he said it, I cared. I cared so damn much my leg couldn't stop bouncing, I was always reaching out to grab something or run my finger along anything that's ease my racing mind. I tried everything and couldn't stop. 

Not until Keaton's hand slid into mine under the table. I looked over at him, but he was smiling, seemingly immersed in what his parents were saying. Still as I watched him he opened his fingers and intertwined them with mine, before pulling our joint hands to rest on his lap, his thumb stroking mine as he tried to calm me down. 

And it worked. His touch. His care. He was my lucky gem, healing me with a single touch. 

"So Ffion, you're a teacher?" Keaton's Mum Florence asked, resting her cheek on her palm as she smiled at me from across the table. 

"Aid, Mum. She's an aid" Keaton corrected, forcing me to bite the inside of my cheek. I can't begin to list the number of times I had to correct him when he called me a teacher. And now here he was correcting people for me. Florence waved him off, uninterested in her own sons presence now and fully intrigued with me. 

"So what grade do you aid in?" 

"Grade 2. Little 8 year olds" I smiled, proud of my job and the kids that made it all worthwhile. Florence matched my smile with one of her own. 

"That's a cute little bunch. Tell me Ffion, what do aids do?" I glance at Keaton who offers one of his small smiles he saves for me before I answer his Mum's question. 

"Uhm, so I help children with disabilities in the classroom. It takes some of the pressure off the actual grades teacher and allows the more challenged kids a better chance to learn with somebody who understands the way their minds work" Keaton squeezes my hand, the little action telling me I aced my little description. Florence places her heart to her chest. 

"My cousin lives with a learning disability that stopped her from getting the most out of schooling experiences when she was younger. Back then we didn't have people like you, helping those that really need it. Their problems were just pushed aside and neglected. You truly are amazing. How'd you get into being an aid?" My chest caved around my heart and unexpectedly my nose tingled. Hearing words of such praise from an older woman and a mother figure, especially Keaton's, meant so much more to me than it should've. 

I shouldn't get emotional having an older woman tell me I'm amazing and that the work I do makes a difference, but not having heard that once from my own mother sparks these kinds of reactions. Reaction's I have to bite my lip down on to not shed a tear. 

Keaton squeezes me hand, catching my attention. His eyes tell me everything. He can see how his Mum's words have effected me. He's a psychiatrist god dammit, he reads people for a living. But he was also telling me with his eyes and the slight pinch in his eyebrows that it was okay if I didn't want to answer his Mum's question about how I got into being an aid. 

Keaton was starting to feel more and more like home. He felt like the family I waited out for to get home. That meant his Mum and his Dad were family too, even if they didn't fully feel like it yet. 

"I grew up in hostels and foster care where there were more disabled people than there were abled. They were all heavily neglected, pushed aside and forgotten about, so I stepped in" Florence grabbed Graham's hand, him squeezing it as they both listened into my story. 

"How old were you?"

"About 8, maybe younger" I shrugged, not really remembering much seeing as so much of my life has been a blur.