Never feel alone

Chapter 5

He's dead?" Stef asked, taken aback. "How did he die?"

I looked away. I couldn't look her in the eye and lie to her. "He was drunk," I told her. "He came home mad, beat me, then took off in his car. He got into an accident, and he just died." I shrugged as if to say that there was nothing left to tell. I hoped she wouldn't look into my story somehow.

"Thanks goodness you and your sister weren't in the car," she said. She slipped my hand into hers and squeezed my fingers.

The thing about lies is that they get easier each time you tell one. It scared me how hard it was to lie to Stef.

"Well," she said, as if coming out of a trance. "Is this the outfit you want, baby? It certainly looks adorable on you."
I felt weird about taking from her after she'd been so nice to me and I'd been dishonest with her. But if I didn't take it, she would know something was up. And I did want the clothes. "Yeah. I mean, if it's okay with you?"

She smiled. "It's fine with me. I would be disappointed if you didn't get it." She patted my knee, then stood up. "Should we go track down your sister?"

"Okay," I nodded.

Sophia was still in the changing rooms. "Did you find anything, love?" Stef asked her.

She peeked out from the stall. "I can't decide which top to get." She looked to me. "Callie, you decide."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said. "Please?"

I looked at each of the tops carefully. "I like this one," I said, holding up a pink shirt with some crocheted lace at the sleeves. It wasn't anything I would wear, but I picked it with her in mind.

"I like it too," she smiled. She looked up at Stef. "Can I please get it?"

Stef looked at the price tag. "Sure, I don't see why not. Toss it in the cart."

After we picked out socks and underwear, we wandered around the store for a while. Eventually we made it to the toy section. I saw Sophia's eyes go to the Barbie dolls right away. I happened to know she loved them, even though she was ashamed to admit that she still played with them at twelve. When I looked back again, she was way behind us, still looking at the display.

"Soph?" said Stef, turning around. "There you are. I thought you were right behind us." She went to my sister's side and picked up a slim box, turning it over, looking at the doll inside. "Would you like a Barbie doll, love?"

"I'm too old for them," she said sadly.

"Mariana played with Barbies when she was your age," Stef told her. "I don't think you're too old. Neither does Callie. Right, honey?"

I shook my head. "No." When we were younger, Barbies were our escape from our crappy life. We would make up elaborate stories and act them out with our dolls for hours, getting lost in their world. Sophia cried herself to sleep when I told her I'd outgrown them. But by then, most of our dolls were either broken or stolen, anyway

I want you to have it," she told my sister. "My treat." Without another word, she dropped the box in the cart.

"You're just buying it for me?" she asked in amazement.

"You did great at the doctors," Stef told her. "I think you've earned a treat. Now, let's go find something for Callie."

When we got home, the house was in an uproar. "They delivered the beds early," Lena said, coming to the door to greet us. Her hair was messy, and she looked frazzled.

"Did Mariana get some space cleared out?" Stef asked.

"No," Lena sighed. "It doesn't matter anyway. The beds would have never fit in there."