Breathe Her In

by Gretchen Tubbs

  ___

  Claire got me some new clothes this weekend, but there was nothing she could do about the cuts and bruises covering my face or the cigarette burns on my arms to make me look presentable for my first day of seventh grade at my new school. From the looks of the neighborhood her house is in, it will be a lot different from the school I go to when I’m at my own house. Even the name makes it sound better… Oakwood Middle School.

  I don’t plan on making friends or getting too comfortable, though, at Claire’s house or at my new school. I know how this whole foster care thing works. A social worker takes me from my mom, she’ll get herself cleaned up, get the house presentable, and they’ll give me back in a few months. I see people at school get taken away all the time, but then they come right back home. They never stay long, though. They always leave again. The kids I know don’t have moms and dads that can stay good. They like to drink, do drugs, and hit their kids too much.

  My mom is the same as all the others. She’ll never change. So, when I go home and get taken away the next time, I hope they give me back to Claire. She’s pretty cool, and so is her youngest daughter, Ava. She was a foster kid like me, but Claire adopted her. Claire’s got some other daughters too, but they are older and have their own kids.

  This lady is an awesome cook. She doesn’t make me find my own food. I mean, she actually has food in the house for me to eat. She doesn’t smoke or drink. Nobody else in the house is smoking crack or weed, either. There aren’t pills scattered all over the counters. Bugs aren’t crawling everywhere. The house is so clean. It smells fantastic. I have a bed to sleep in, with sheets on the mattress and everything.

  The only uncool thing so far is that she told me I could call her ‘Mamma C’. I don’t think I‘ll be doing that. I’ll stick with Claire.

  “You promise you’ll call me if you need anything? I mean it, Rafe. Anything. Do you have the phone I gave you?”

  I nod, feeling for it in my pocket. I can’t believe she actually bought me a phone. Too bad I won’t be able to keep it. My mom will trade it for drugs if she ever finds it.

  “I hope you have a good day. Try to make some friends.”

  2. Eleanor

  I didn’t sleep at all last night, but, for once, it wasn’t because of night before the first day of school jitters. How is it even possible that Rafe Matthews is back and that his daughter is in my class? I ran out of that tattoo shop as fast as I could yesterday and drove back to school, searching through her records with shaky hands that I could barely control. Her file was still as empty as the first time I looked through it, except for the request for records from her previous school and a note from the school board office that she was to be placed in the inclusion classroom because she was a special needs child.

  It took about two seconds for me to do the math and realize that Della Matthews was conceived when Rafe and I were together. A wave of memories hits me before I can stop them. There are two types of memories that I have to fight against every single day; memories of my time with Rafe that make me weep from missing him, and memories of the aftermath of his disappearance that make me sob from the guilt and the unbearable pain.

  That guilt and pain is harder to deal with than missing him, even after all these years. Every day I wake up and think, This is it. Today’s gonna be the day when I don’t hurt so damn bad, but it never is.

  There was still so much to do after I saw him yesterday, but running into Rafe was more than I could handle. Even at seventeen, I knew Rafe was the great love of my life.

  Obviously, though, my feelings and Rafe’s feelings weren’t on the same page. I was dealing with…everything I was dealing with, and he was out getting someone else pregnant. No wonder he disappeared on me. I was an idiot to believe all the lies he told me.

  I force my mind out of the past and back to straightening up my classroom when I hear the door open.

  “Hadley, thank God you’re on time for once. We have so much left to do before the kids get here.” I turn, expecting to see Hadley Cole, my co-teacher and one of my best friends, but come face-to-face with Rafe and a young girl I can only assume is his daughter, Della.

  My expression must convey my shock and irritation because it immediately draws an apology from Rafe.

  He’s got so much to apologize for. This one barely skims the surface.

  “I’m sorry. I know we’re early, but I wanted to meet with you and explain some things before the other kids get here. Do you have some paper?”

  He’s speaking, but I can’t pull my eyes away from her.

  She’s breathtaking. She’s a miniature Rafe. Her olive skin is a few shades darker than his, but her dark hair and eyes are spot-on.

  The pressure on my chest grows as my eyes drift down to their intertwined hands.

  Rafe is a father.

  My heart is cracking, despite the fact that I thought a broken heart couldn’t break any further.

  “Eleanor? Paper?”

  Della smiles, and I give her a smile back. It’s difficult, but I can’t fault her because of her father’s transgressions.

  I lean down, mindful of the fact that Rafe’s eyes are raking over every inch of me. That doesn’t diminish the fact that I have a job to do. “Hi, Della. I’m Ms. Benson. How are you? Are you excited about second grade?”

  Rafe bends down and as soon as he looks at her, his face softens.

  The crack in my heart just got a little bigger.

  “Della, honey, I think I saw a desk over there with your name on it. Why don’t you go check it out while I talk to your teacher? I bet there’s some paper in there for you.”

  She nods and walks around the room until she finds her seat. Rafe steps into the hallway and holds the door open for me. I try to put some space between us, but he’s leaning close, keeping his voice quiet, looking from me to his daughter, never letting his eyes linger too long on either one of us.

  There was a time when Rafe would lean in close and use that same voice on me, but the circumstances couldn’t be any more different.

  Get a grip, I think. You are a professional. Act like it.

  “I need to explain Della to you.”

  “I don’t think this is the time or place for that, Rafe,” I snap.

  A warmth seeps into his cold eyes. “I was talking about her condition.”

  “Oh, um, right.” My pulse quickens as he grins.

  “Did you get her records from the other school?” I shake my head and he continues, letting his eyes drift to her first. “Della is a selective mute. She’s insanely smart, but she refuses to speak. She hasn’t in years. We’re working on it, but her therapists aren’t very hopeful at this point.”

  “What happened?” I whisper, knowing that selective mutism is usually a result of trauma.

  His voice drops and he moves in closer. “She was in a really shitty environment. She was exposed to some fucked up stuff kids should never have to see.” He clears his throat and drops his eyes. “Some things were done to her that you wouldn’t be able to stomach hearing about.”

  “Oh God,” I exhale, my hand moving to my mouth, a lump forming in my throat. “I’m so sorry.”

  My mind can’t help but conjure up worst-case scenarios. I can’t help but think about Rafe as a child. He was never fond of sharing pieces of his life with me, but what he did share was enough to let my mind drift to some awful places. I think back to some of the conversations that took place between the two of us in our clearing behind the park, and my heart breaks for this child that I don’t even know.

  He clears his throat once more, backing away from me a bit. I miss his warmth right away, even though that should be the furthest thought from my mind. “I’m sorry, too. Anyway, I left a list in the office of people who are allowed to come by and check on her or pick her up, as well as people who are not allowed to be here, under any circumstances. Please, Eleanor,” he pleads, “make sure that you stick to that list.”

  “Of course.” I suddenly remembe
r about the paperwork being wrong in the office. “Oh, please stop back by on your way out and fix your address. The office doesn’t have the right address on file. I don’t know how I ended up at that tattoo shop.”

  The coldness is back in his dark eyes. “That’s where I work. I must have put it on there by mistake.”

  My eyes move back to my new student, a new worry setting in. “How will I know what she needs, Rafe? I’ve worked with many types of children before, but never any like Della.”

  “She’ll let you know. She loves to draw and write. Just make sure she always has paper handy. We used signals and sign language when she was younger, but we don’t really need them anymore. Maybe she could teach you a few things. You’ll figure it out.” He slips his card out of his wallet and hands it to me. The simple brush of his fingers against mine causes a buzzing sensation to dance along my skin. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll be back this afternoon to get her.”

  “We dismiss from the cafeteria.”

  His eyes light up at the mention of the cafeteria. I’m sure, like mine, his mind can’t help but wander to where it all started between us, a lifetime ago.

  He moves out of the doorway, his scent lingering behind him. After all these years, he still smells the same... peppermint, outdoors, and a just a hint of smoke. I close my eyes briefly and push down the feelings threatening to take over with the reappearance of Rafe Matthews. I can’t decide if I want to pull him into me and kiss him or punch him. Turning back to the classroom, I see him squatting down near Della’s chair.

  I take advantage of the fact that his eyes aren’t focused on me and drink in the sight of him. He’s still Rafe, but with an edge. His arms are more colorful than the last time I laid eyes on him. He now has full sleeves on both arms. If I had to guess, his chest and back are decorated, as well.

  When I first met him, there was an eerie stillness to his eyes. Over the years, he let pieces of himself shine through, and his dark eyes became more expressive. I always had a sneaking suspicion that those moments were reserved for me. Well, until I found out about Della. I’m obviously not the only person he gave a piece of himself to. Della’s mother must have gotten a glimpse of that softer side of Rafe, too. The thought makes my stomach ache in a way I haven’t experienced in years.

  He’s speaking quietly to Della at her desk, but not so low that I can’t hear him.

  “Alright Della Doo, I gotta jet. The other kids will be here soon. Be a good girl for Ms. Benson. I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  She grabs his face, her bottom lip starting to tremble. He lays his big hands over hers and clears his throat. “Dell, you’ll be fine. I went to school with your teacher. Did I tell you that?” She shakes her head. “Yeah, I met her my first day of school when I went to live with Mamma C that very first time, except I didn’t call her Ms. Benson back then.” He leans in closer, their noses practically touching, and grins. “I called her Eleanor. I bet she’ll let you call her that, too.” Della’s lip stops quivering, a timid smile taking over her otherwise worried face.

  “If you don’t let the other kids in on our secret, you can call me Eleanor whenever you want,” I pseudo-whisper to her, butting into the conversation. “How about we walk your dad back to the front?”

  Rafe straightens and looks back at me. “Eleanor, I’m-,” he starts, but Hadley comes barging into the room, late as usual.

  “I’m here. Sorry I’m late. Traffic was a nightmare.” She looks up. “Oh…hi!” Surprise takes over her face. “I’m Hadley Cole, the other teacher in here.”

  He hits Hadley with one of those smiles that makes my knees turn to Jell-O. “Rafe Matthews, and this is Della.”

  “We’re going to walk Rafe out. I’ll see you in a bit,” I tell my best friend. Rafe takes Della’s hand and heads to the door. An unmistakable Oh My God leaves Hadley’s mouth as I cross the room.

  She has no idea.

  ___

  The day passes with all of the usual insanity of the first day of school, leaving me no time to dwell on the reappearance of Rafe Matthews. Our class is amazing. It takes them a while to catch on to the fact that Della won’t talk to them, but that doesn’t prevent them from including her in everything. She’s very reserved, and I notice that she gets overwhelmed with increases in noise or when people start to crowd around her.

  She likes the quiet and she likes to be alone, much like her father. I don’t stop her from moving to the corner of the room throughout the day to catch her breath. While Hadley is going over lunch codes with the other students, I send out emails to the ancillary teachers, along with any other staff members who will come in contact with her and need to know about her situation. We go out to the empty playground and look up easy hand signals on my iPad so that she never has to struggle to tell me what she needs. After Social Living, we walk to the office so that I can call her former school, desperate to get my hands on her records. At this point, I can’t determine if it’s for professional or personal reasons, but I need to know everything I can about Della Matthews.

  The secretary wasn’t very helpful, despite the fact that she gave me an earful.

  “I’ll get them over to you as soon as I have a second to breathe over here. Kids are dropping and adding so fast I can’t keep up. We didn’t send those already?”

  “No ma’am. I’ve been through her files several times and spoken with her father. I really need her records.”

  “Pfft,” she grunts out. “I can tell you whatever you need. That girl is trouble. She may not talk, but you’ll have your hands full with that one.”

  I look over to Della, sitting in the chair on the other side of the desk, her nose in a book. “Excuse me? What exactly are you talking about?”

  “Exactly what I said. All that screaming and carrying on she used to do. She spent more of her day in the time-out room than she did in the classroom. We couldn’t deal with her or her overbearing father. And if it’s not him at the school all up in your business, it’s some of those other people he hangs out with. They’re relentless. Anyway, good luck with that family. I’ll get your records to you eventually.”

  The phone goes dead before I can pick my jaw up from the floor and give this woman a piece of my mind. Della’s eyes are on me, gleaming, like she knows exactly what was said on the other end of the receiver.

  “Della, did you like your old school?”

  The scowl on her face is all the answer I need.

  “Well, I hope you’ll be happier here.”

  I get a small grin in return. Noticing the clock, I rush her back down to the classroom. I can’t believe the day is already over.

  I sit with her in carpool, not wanting to leave her with a teacher she’s never met. I introduce Della to Mrs. Adams, the duty teacher, and give her a copy of the note Rafe left in the office. Della is tucked away in the farthest corner of the room, away from all the other kids, rocking slightly back and forth. As more children leave, the more noticeable the rocking becomes.

  I squat down next to her and try to calm her before she gets more upset. “Do you want me to call your dad? He’s on his way, honey. He’s not late. There are still plenty of students waiting to be picked up.”

  “I’m here to pick up Della Matthews,” I hear from the doorway, but I don’t have to look away from Della to know that’s not Rafe’s voice. I could recognize his voice anywhere.

  I hear it in my dreams every single night.

  “Stay put,” I tell Della, giving her hand a light squeeze.

  “Who are you?” I ask the tall, heavily inked man at the door.

  “I’m Finn O’Leary. Are you Dell’s teacher?”

  “Yes. I’m Eleanor Benson. I’ll need to see some identification, please.” I pull the note out of the carpool folder and search down the list of names until I find his, four names down. His name is somewhat familiar to me. I remember Rafe talking about him when we were younger… he’s married to one of Claire’s daughters.

  A brigh
tly tattooed arm reaches out and puts the ID in my line of sight. I check the name and picture carefully and then call Della over.

  “Thank you,” he says, a slight Irish accent mixing with his words. “Her last school would never have done that. Until you get to know all of us,” he says, pointing to the list still in my hand, “keep making us show ID. No one takes her without it.”

  Della pushes herself against his legs, just about knocking him over. “Hey Dells. Rafe got caught up at the shop, so I’m up. Wanna go see Magpie and get a snack?”

  Her eyes sparkle at the mention of Magpie, whoever that is.

  “Go get your bag, doll.” She takes off to the back corner and he watches with a smile on his face. “How did she do today?” he asks, never taking his eyes off of her.

  “Amazing. She got a little overwhelmed a few times, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

  “Good. I’m sure I’ll see you again, Ms. Benson. Ready to go, Della?” he asks when she reappears with her bag.

  A quiet nod is all the man gets before they leave.

  ___

  “I’m going to go talk to him.”

  Charlotte’s fork clangs against the lunch table. “What?!”

  “I’m going to go talk to him,” I repeat, slower, just to make my friend mad.

  “Why would you do something crazy like that? Look at him, Eleanor. He’s scary.”

  I glance back toward the table in the corner, thinking to myself that he’s anything but. “How can someone our age be scary?”

  “Have you not heard all the stuff going around school about him? He’s not from around here.” She leans in closer, but doesn’t bother dropping her voice. “Do you remember when we went to see that play with my mom downtown last year and we got lost?” she asks, waiting for my acknowledgement. I give her a distracted nod, because I can’t peel my eyes away from the new boy, sitting alone in the back of the lunch room, battered and bruised. “Remember how scared we were? That’s where he lives, Eleanor. Can you imagine? People are saying he did some really bad things and was in juvie.”