Birdie by Tracey Lindberg

Author:Tracey Lindberg [Lindberg Tracey]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
ISBN: 9781443442091
Publisher: HarperCollins Canada
Published: 2015-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

8

WHERE SHE WAS

kakosoweht: s/he is the one who is afraid of people

pawatamowin

She dreams she has one song, one mournful song. Soars at night and stays quiet in the day. She wakes one night. To bars. And knows in her sleepless sleep that she is caged.

IN CARE, ONCE SOCIAL SERVICES TOOK HER FROM VAL, Bernice made herself as small as possible, as unnoticeable as could be, but still they found her.

“Hey, fat bitch, get outta my way.”

“You fat cow, you’re in my chair.”

“Yo! Buffalo – move it.”

It seemed that no matter where she was, where she went, she was in the way. Even curled in her little cot, taking as little space as possible (reading, not looking up, not listening for anything but someone approaching her), she seemed to be the epicentre of some unkindness. Some of the other residents were fine, but on the whole she was ignored. There was a toughness pecking order that left her close enough to crazy to be left largely alone. Even so, Bernice knew that to speak was to be noticed, and she did not want that.

It came as a relief when a British family took her into their home as a foster child. The Ingelsons, with no children of their own, picked her up a few weeks before her sixteenth birthday. It was easy to be quiet with the Ingelsons as they were forever talking.

“I don’t know, Bernice, I like the pink one better, but it’s your prom.” Ann said sweetly (and Ann said everything sweetly), “Which one do you like?”

Bernice definitely liked the pink one, it was a light and frilly dress with layers of soft fabric in different shades of pink frothing together in a confection that was age, gender and occasion appropriate. Of course Ann was right, Ann was always right. That’s why she was awarded “Foster Parent of the Year” three years ago. And that was exactly why Bernice was leaning towards the turquoise dress.

“I don’t care, whatever,” Bernice said, definitely caring and not at all willing to accept whatever.

Ann was perplexed. Bernice had been hemming and hawing all day, this was supposed to be a lot more fun than it had been and her patience was, she was sure, being tested.

“Well,” she thought out loud, doing the calculations, “we could take them both home and you could decide later? Then, we could bring one back … or keep it if you want.”

Bernice headed back to the change room and closed the door so Ann wouldn’t hear her crying. She had wanted a fight, words of some sort, and this was somehow worse. As she wishes, whatever she wants, she should choose. She buckled under the weight of this degree of autonomy and felt the walls of the change room begin to push at her.

“Bernice? Maybe we could just keep both, and then you could have a dress just in case …” Ann feels bad, she knows, and this made Bernice cry harder. Soundless crying in change room three of Fanny’s Finery.

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