"even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise" - victor hugo

-----

Nita woke up to the sound of whimpering coming from the bed next to her.

She rubbed her tired eyes and sat up, looking to the left where Emily was tossing and turning in a fitful sleep.

“Hey, shh,” Nita said, jumping from her bed and climbing onto Emily's.

She moved to wake the child from what was most likely a nightmare but froze when she touched her bare arms.

Emily was burning up, her skin sticky with night sweats and boiling with a fever.

“ Emi.. Open your eyes, baby,” Nita said, her tone a bit urgent as she wanted to see what was making the little one so sick.

“ Nity..,” Emily mumbled, cracking her eyes open.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“My tummy,” Emily whined, trying to curl in on herself only to be stopped by Nita.

“Do you need to use the toilet, or do you feel like throwing up?”

“Both,” Emily said as she started to cry.

“Okay, you’re okay. Let’s got to the bathroom, alright?” Nita pulled Emily up by her armpits and hoisted the girl into her arms. “I’ve got you, Emi.”

The sisters moved their way out into the hallway, Nita doing her best to keep quiet so then Freen wouldn’t bother trying to help them.

She crept towards the washroom and kicked the door shut behind her while she blindly found the light switch.

“I gonna throw up,” Emily whimpered, her cries growing more frantic.

Nita rushed to set the girl down by the toilet, doing so just in time for the six-year-old to throw up her dinner.

“Shh, get it out,” Nita cooed, moving Emily's shirt so she could rub her bareback.

“I want Freen,” Emily cried loudly between gags, making Nita cringe at the noise and the request.

“We don’t need her. Hey, shh, look you have me,” Nita said, fighting back her own nausea at the growing smell in the washroom.

“Girls?” A voice called from the hallway, making Nita groan and Emily cry in an effort to lead Freen to where they were.

“What’s going on in-,” Freen faltered in her question as she walked into the washroom and found her foster daughters on the floor, answering her own question.

“Hey, Bubs, what’s wrong, baby?” Freen asked, moving to the little one’s other side and sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

“I’ve got this. Go back to bed,” Nita bitterly snapped.

“I can help,” Freen said, her voice soft as she tied back Emily's hair and reached for a small towel.

She soaked it under some cold water before placing it over the back of Emily's neck to start cooling the girl down.

Recognizing the growing stench in the small space, the foster mom reached over Emily to flush the toilet, effectively reducing some the smell.

“Nita, can you go grab your sister a new set of pyjamas?” Freen asked, using a new wet towel to wipe Emily's face a bit before moving to remove the girl’s sweat-soaked top.

“No. I’m not leaving her,” Nita refused.

“I won’t do anything to her, I promise,” Freen said, moving to pull Emily's bottoms off since stray vomit hit them as well.

“Stop!!” Nita yelled, startling Freen and making Emily cry loudly and cover her ears.

“Nita-."

“Don’t touch her,” Nita demanded, pulling Emily into her arms despite her attempts to reach back for Freen.

“I’m just trying to help,” Freen said, trying to keep her tone even in hopes of not raising the girl’s anger.

“I don’t need you.”

“But what about Emily?” Freen questioned, making the teen’s glare intensify. “I’ll go get the pyjamas then. Just take her pants off please. They don’t smell too great,” Freen conceded, getting up and heading towards the girls’ room.

Nita held Emily a bit closer once Freen left them alone. Emily, having realized Freen's disappearance, began to whine and strain in the arms of her sister.

“Where’s Freen?” Emily whimpered, pushing away from Nita.

“We don’t need her, Emi,” Nita said, reaching for the washcloth that was left of the tub edge so she could wipe Emily's face once more.

“I want Freen,” Emily said, using what little strength she had to lean away from Nita's attempts to wipe her face.

“Don’t say that,” Nita demanded, her patience wearing thin.

“But-,” Emily began to say, her words quickly cut off by a gag and a constricted cough.

Nita had some sense to quickly turn her sister towards the toilet again, just in time for the little one to throw up. The high tension and the overall discomfort had Emily in a fit of loud, guttural sobs.

Her little hands were white-knuckled due to her grip on the toilet edge, and her face was a mess of snot and puke once more.

“Mama!” Emily cried loudly, making Nita stand up quickly and Freen rush back into the bathroom.

“Emily!!” Nita loudly scolded, though she was promptly ignored by Emily who saw Freen at the doorway.

“Mama,” Emily choked out, reaching for the foster mom who didn’t hesitate to return to her side.

“Don’t cry, baby. You’re okay,” Freen cooed as she wiped Emily's face clean and scooped her up into her arms.

“Just relax for a minute. Take some deep breaths. Just like me, okay?” Freen sat Emily on the edge of the tub and talked her through her slight hysteria, effectively getting the girl down to some hiccups and sniveling.

It wasn’t going to last, however, as Nita was practically seething at the sight.

“She isn’t your mom, Emily,” Nita said, making Emily whimper and squeeze Freen's hand even tighter. “Our real mom is still alive! You know that!”

“Please don’t yell at her right now,” Freen said as she stood up and gave the teen a warning glare.

“She’ll only hurt us, Emily!” Nita continued, ignoring Freen and getting closer to Emily's face. “How many times do I have to tell you that?!”

“Hey!” Freen finally snapped.

She stepped between the sisters and gave Nita a slight push back.

“She is sick and scared right now. You have no right getting in her face like that.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Nita yelled.

She was getting angry now, and when that anger got out of control she snapped. She was hoping Freen would have some sense to leave her be by now.

“Just go back to your room, okay? I’ve got this,” Freen said, doing her best to control her own emotions.

“No! Fuck you for thinking you can just take my place like that. She’s not your fucking kid, you got that?”

“Nita, you’re scaring Emil-,”

“She should be scared of getting close you! You’re no better than any of those other foster parents.”

“Enough. Go to your room,” Freen instructed, trying her best to stand her ground.

Nita wasn’t done yet.

“You can’t tell me what to do!” Nita yelled, her hand motions getting erratic at this point.

“You’re not my mother! You’re not Emily's mother! You’re no one to us!”

“Nity, stop!” Emily cried, hands still clamped over her ears as she watched from her place on the tub edge.

“This is all your fault,” Nita continued yelling at Freen, ignoring her sister’s requests.

“Please, just stop,” Freen said, grabbing hold of one of the teen’s wrists.

It wasn’t violent, but Nita had no sense of what Freen's intentions were so she punched her. Hard.

“Don’t touch me!” Nita snapped out, pulling her hand back and taking several steps backwards in case Freen felt like returning the hit.

But Freen was very dazed though and was stuck covering her cheek with one hand and raising her other in defense.

If Nita weren’t mistaken, Freen almost seemed scared of her.

No foster parent has ever been scared of her before.

“ Nita.,” Freen began quietly, straightening herself up and revealing her very red cheek that was certainly going to bruise. “Just stop, okay? I can’t- you’re a threat to not only my safety right now, but Emily's as well. I don’t want to do anything drastic tonight so just please go to your room, okay? Please na ka.”

Nita froze in place, her mind picking through Freen's words. She didn’t want to do anything drastic tonight, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to do something about it in the morning.

And if Freen saw her as a threat to Emily then there was nothing to stop her from filing a complaint with P'Beer and having them separated.

She could lose her sister all because she lost her temper.

“ Emily needs to rest. Can you just–,” Freen's voice cracked. She sounded like she wanted to cry but was fighting those tears back. “Please go to your room.”

Nita glanced behind Freen and saw Emily staring back at her with tear-streaked cheeks and fear in her brown eyes. She was scared of her too.

Unable to stand there any longer, Nita turned away quickly and rushed back into her room. She shut and locked her door behind her, allowing her to crawl under her sheets and release a pent-up sob.

She had barely cried in the last six months, and now, after the previous night and this recent event, Nita was afraid she could never stop.

-----

Freen could hear the teen sobbing as she walked past her door with Emily in her arms.

She was tempted to try and fix things with the girl after getting Emily settled into her bed, but the stinging of her cheek reminded her why that would be a bad idea.

“Sleep with you,” Emily mumbled as she nuzzled her face into Freen's collarbone.

“Yeah, baby. You get to sleep with me in the big cozy bed.”

“Mama cuddles?”

Freen felt her throat tighten at that. It felt so right, but she knew it hurt Nita enough to warrant asevere reaction. She didn’t want to encourage the new name, but she didn’t want to reject Emily.

“Yeah, baby. We’ll have some good cuddles, alright?”

Freen got Emily situated in the middle of her bed and tucked her in before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I’ve got to grab a few things. Try to sleep, okay?”

Emily nodded and nuzzled into Freen's pillow, making a small smile grow on Freen's face.

The foster mom left the room quietly and went about fetching a small bucket, a towel, and some bathroom cleaner from the laundry room.

The bucket would be for Emily, but the other two were for her to clean the bathroom of any lingering vomit that missed the bowl.

In the ten minutes that it took Freen to scrub the bathroom clean, she could hear the muffled crying of Nita in the other room lessen and then eventually stop.

For a brief moment, Freen allowed herself to sit in the middle of the bathroom and just think. Part of her felt like Nita went too far, like this was the final straw needed for her to finally call P'Beer and have her taken.

But then there was Emily. She knew that the six-year-old needed both of them, and having Nita taken away, or the both of them sent to a new family, would do little to help Emily.

Freen did her best to keep her emotions in check, but the tears that bubbled to the surface and then tumbled down her cheeks were impossible to control. Everything just seemed to get harder. Freen was really struggling to find that silver-lining so many foster parents spoke of.

It was close to 4am, a full 45 minutes since everything transpired, when Freen got a handle on her emotions and wiped any stray tears away.

She returned the cleaning product and rag to the laundry room and washed her hands once more before situating herself in her bed. Emily, still fast asleep,seemed to sense her presence and shuffled in closer to her.

For now, Freen allowed herself to embrace Emily in her arms and attempt to sleep.

In the morning she knew some real big decisions had to be made. For now though, sleep seemed to be a good option.

-----

On Sunday mornings, Becky woke up at 7am to watch Charlotte coach the 8am advance teen division hockey practice.

She wasn’t sure when the habit started, but Becky enjoyed seeing her sister in her element and was easily entertained by the practices that transpired.

Today the girls were practicing, which meant more precision and tact was presented on the ice. The boys tended to be faster and enjoyed body-slamming one another more.

Becky sat next to Charlotte on the cold bench as they both sipped on hot chocolate.

Between Charlotte's commands and critics to the players, Becky told her about her date from the previous night.

“I was a complete mess after she left,” Becky explained, using her fingernail to pick at the mug sleeve.

“Why?” Charlotte asked, her eyes still stuck on her players. Becky knew her sister was listening. She had a knack for multi-tasking.

“I don’t kno-,”

“I know you know, Bec. Don’t lie,” Charlotte warned, giving her sister a playful glare before she squeezed her knee.

“I’m worried that Heidi will feel like I’m forgetting about her.”

Charlotte's eyes were now on Becky's. She had her full attention.

“Girls! Let’s do some speed drills,” Charlotte called out, knowing her players would sort themselves out and perform the repetitive drill.

It would be enough to occupy them so she could help Becky sort her problem out.

“Becky, Heidi would never think that. You loved her so much, but that doesn’t mean that you can never love again.”

“You sound like, Taran,” Becky laughed, before becoming somber again and chewing her lip. “After Freen drove off yesterday I realized that it was the first time since Heidi died that I didn’t feel an ache. I felt- I don’t know how to describe it-,”

“Numb?” Charlotte offered, to which Becky shook her head.

“I felt full again. Like whatever part Heidi took with her, Freen managed to fill. I feel horrible for saying that,” Becky said, shaking her head and internally berating herself for even thinking that someone could come close to how incredible Heidi was.

“It’s been three years, Bec. I’m not saying that you should forget about it and move on, but I do think that if you find yourself feeling just as good as you did when Heidi was alive, then you shouldn’t be upset about it. It just shows that you’re healing.”

Becky nodded her head but remained silent. Charlotte took this opportunity to critique some of the players who were abusing the fact that their coach was distracted.

“I really like Freen,” Becky revealed, making Charlotte smile and give her a playful shove.

“Of course you do, stupid. Taran said you were practically drooling at her studio the other day.”

“I was not drooling,” Becky groaned. “But if you saw her, you wouldn’t blame me.”

“I have no doubt I’ll be meeting her at thanksgiving,” Charlotte said, laughing to herself at the thought.

“Remember when you were embarrassed to bring girls home?” Charlotte teased, both sisters now laughing at the few memories.

“I love dad, but he says the lamest things sometimes.”

“At least we got a good one,” Charlotte reminded, making Becky nod her agreement.

“It took us a while, but we got lucky with our lot.”

“I wouldn’t trade you six in for the world,” Charlotte said, smiling softly at the thought of their large, and less than ordinary, family. “Speaking of family, Richie wants us all over next weekend so Ma and dad can meet his girlfriend.”

“Already? But they’ve been dating for less than a month,” Becky said. “Boy he moves fast.”

“I guess he wants to see if she can handle the Armstrong's bunch. You have those embarrassing photos still, right?”

“Always,” Becky promised, giving her phone a little wiggle.

It was then that she realized she had an unread message on her screen.

Sliding it open, Becky read the short message from Freen.

Freen Sarocha: Sorry if this is weird but I don’t know who else to talk to. Can I call you?

Becky couldn’t help the weird drop she felt in her stomach along with the sudden palpitations she felt in her heart. She was worried about what Freen had to say, but she also wanted to speak over the phone, which was exciting.

It was all too confusing for Becky, especially since it was barely 9am.

“I have to make a call real quick.”

“That’s fine ka. I’m going to finish up with these girls,” Charlotte said, waving her sister off as Becky hurried out of the rink and towards the lobby.

She pressed on Freen's contact and waited for the other woman to pick up.

-----

Freen only slept an extra hour before she was up at 5am. She continued to lay in bed, primarily due to Emily who was halfway on top of her and a complete dead weight. She contemplated who to call when the time became more appropriate.

Her Mae would be a good choice if she wanted to be lectured once again about how raising two girls who aren’t even her’s would be easier if she had a partner. Add to the fact that Nune would completely lose her shit if she heard that Nita punched her,

Freen was quick to remove her Mae
from the list of options to avoid any further trouble.

Irin was another choice. She was her best friend since childhood and always supported Freen in every way. But conversations about Irin were typically strained and awkward since Nita, being her delightful self, insulted Irin two months ago for no reason.

Irin carried herself well in the presence of the teen, even after being called a cunt with a complex, but she had very little patience for anything that Nita did that seemed to upset Freen. So, she was also off the table.

Engfa was away at a high-tech engineer seminar in Japan for another week, and the time-zones were enough to make Freen also remove her as an option. Though Engfa, for all intents and purposes, seemed to be the most supportive of Freen on her foster parent journey.

With her closest family and friends off the table, Freen racked her mind for who else could help her sort this out.

And then it hit her.

Becky was a foster child at one point. Her perspective would do wonders to help Freen fix things.

But they had only gone on one date. And while Becky was open about her past, Freen wasn’t sure if that warranted more prodding. She didn’t want to overstep and scare Becky off, but she also didn’t want to misstep and make things fall apart for both Emily and Nita.

Deciding that the safety and comfort of her foster children came before a potential love life, Freen sent out a text to Becky after 8am in hopes that she would see it when she woke up and call her.

Around 8:45, Freen's phone began to vibrate. She carefully slipped out from under Emily and left the child to sleep.

She hurried downstairs to her small studio in the garage and answered the call, doing her best to steady her breathing.

“Becky.,” she said, a small smile coming to her face despite the nature of the call. “Thanks for calling me.”

“Of course. Is everything okay?” Becky asked, her voice coated with concern.

It warmed Freen'sheart.

“Yes- no- It’s all sort of a mess,” Freen revealed, plopping herself down onto her stool that was set up in front of an empty easel. “I need some kid advice, as weird as that sounds.”

“I don’t have kids, but I was one before so I guess I can help you.”

Freen laughed with Becky at the playful comment before she puffed out an unsure breath of air.

“Nita and I got into a fight last night. Emily got sick and was throwing up, completely freaking out, you know, the works,”

Becky hummed her agreement.

“And Nita was refusing to let me help. I tried to keep my cool because she’s always so quick to escalate and it scares Emily when we argue. But then Emily called me ‘mama.’”

“Aww,” Becky said, breaking the seriousness of the moment. “Were you okay with that?”

“I haven’t fully wrapped my mind around it. I didn’t even get a chance to process it really, because Nita snapped. She was screaming at Emily and I had to separate them because she looked absolutely ready to explode. And then Nita punched me.”

“Excuse me?” Becky asked, seemingly snapping back to the reality that this wasn’t a cute call to tell her that Emily called her ‘mama’.

“I think I grabbed her arm to try to calm her down, but she got scared so she punched me.”

“Holy shit. Are you okay?” Becky asked, voice full of concern again.

“I’m fine. I think it bruised a bit. I just don’t know how to handle this situation. I can’t send them back into the system over this, but I also can’t have them separated. I was hoping that you would have a better sense of what to do since you were in the foster system.”

Becky puffed out an unsure breath on her end. “That’s a hard one, P'Freen.”

“I know.”

“What did Nita do after she hit you?”

“She went to her room to cry. Like really cry. I’ve never heard her like that.”

“Do you think she felt guilty?” Becky pressed.

“I think she felt a lot of things. I would bet she felt mostly scared, though. Something tells me that she lost control of herself for just a second and now she feels like she fucked everything up,” Freen said, absentmindedly reaching for a blank canvas to prop up on the easel.

Sometimes starting a painting helped her work out problems, so she thought that it wouldn’t hurt to try in case Becky came up with nothing.

“Do you feel safe with her in the house?”

“Sort of. For now. I don’t think she’ll lash out like that for a while. She’ll probably wait long enough for this incident to blow over before she gets comfortable enough again to blow up. I’m just worried that someday Emily could end up in that cross-fire.”

“The foster system has a great knack of teaching kids how to express themselves through aggression,” Becky said, pausing for a beat before adding, “Taran had that problem. Not to shine any bad light on one of your buyers, but my Ma would tell me about Taran when she first got placed with them. She was around ten and would have these awful fits. She would get so aggressive and angry and then she’d hit anything in sight. Sometimes my Ma, sometimes my dad. She once even hit Marima who was only five at the time.”

“Was this before she was adopted?” Freen asked as she drew the outline of her new piece.

“Yup. Taran is still surprised sometimes that they kept her after she hit Marima. It’s one thing to hit a foster parent; it’s another to hit their biological child.”

“So, what did they do? How did they help her?”

“They tried therapy, but that really only seemed to fuel Taran's anger more. And then they tried a contact sport – soccer – but Taran seemed more set on abusing her teammates. And then they tried hockey.”

“Hockey?” Freen asked, almost dumbfounded.

“Y’know, with the puck and stick?” Becky asked sarcastically, making Freen laugh.

“I know what hockey is. But why that sport?”

“It’s amazing the difference some heavy-duty padding and unstable ice-skates can do for an aggressive kid,” Becky explained. “Taran and the other players were protected, and suddenly she had an outlet. After that, Taran became a lot calmer; she was able to go to therapy and actually work out her emotions, and she never hit my parents or Marima again.”

“They make it seem so easy,” Freen groaned, making Becky laugh.

“It was far from easy. They had to work with her for over eight months before they finally found a way to help her cope with her trauma. But when they did, Taran was so grateful. They changed her life in a way that no one else could.”

“What if I can’t change Nita's life?” Freen asked, feeling a wave of sadness wash over her.

“Only you can truly decide when enough is enough. But if deep down you think that you have a bit of fight left in you to help push Pranita in the right direction, then I think now would be a great time to use it.”

“So, I should talk to her about getting into a sport?” Freen asked, hoping she got the right message from Becky. “Because she’s attending group therapy at the moment but she’s far from pleased about it.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to try. After my parents found out hockey worked for Taran, they used it for the rest of us as we came into their lives. Charlotte's even a coach now; that’s how impactful it was.”

“I take it you weren’t so swayed by the sport.”

“I could go without wearing an obscene amount of padded layers. But speaking of Charlotte, she does coach a beginner’s teen league. If you talk to Nita and she shows some interest I can give you Charlotte's info so you can work that all out.”

“Really? That would be amazing,” Freen enthused, finally feeling like she had a grasp on the situation. “You cannot begin to even understand how helpful you’ve been. I called you feeling completely helpless and now I have a bit of hope restored that I can handle this.”

“Hey, I was just telling you about my sister’s ten-year-old tantrums. You allowed yourself to give Pranita another chance. That’s incredibly kind and good of you.”

“I’m sorry if me calling you was weird. I just felt like you would know the right thing to say.”

“I’m glad to know that you already think that way of me. By the way, I had a great time with you yesterday.”

“Me too,” Freen hummed, a dumb smile growing on her face.

“What do you say to another date on Friday?” Becky proposed, making Freen blush fiercely.

“I’ll have to work everything out over here and make sure that Emily and Nita are settled after what happened last night, but I would definitely love that.”

“Perfect. Just let me know if it works for you and I’ll set everything up. I guess I’ll see you at the drop-off zone tomorrow morning, P'Freen?”

Freen laughed at the reminder. “Of course. Thanks again, Bec.”

“Anytime,” the brunette said. “Bye, P'Freen.”

“Bye, Becky.”

With that Freen hung up her phone and sat back on her stool, taking a breath. She felt like it was much easier to breathe now that she had a plan set in place on how to deal with the situation.

Add to that, Becky's charm and her potential date on Friday, Freen had a feeling that her Sunday morning completely turned right side up.

Setting her pencil down in front of the easel, Freen left her new project and went upstairs to start making some pancakes.

Starting today, she was going to put her best foot forward with Nita and see if they could start again.

To be continued...