The Truth is Relative

PunkPrince

...bees.
Original poster
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
  1. Speed of Light
  2. Multiple posts per day
  3. 1-3 posts per day
  4. One post per day
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Advanced
  3. Prestige
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Female
  2. Transgender
Genres
Real life
Marilyn lay on her back in bed. She had hardly gotten any sleep the night before. She'd spent the night tossing and turning. She felt the woman next to her snuggle closer to her side. At least Tammie seemed to be sleeping well. One of them would have some energy for the day. Good. Marilyn rested her arm across Tammie, gently rubbing her girlfriend's shoulders.

She was mostly just trying to keep from having an anxiety attack over today, and Tammie helped. Her daughter was coming to stay with her. She had lived with her adoptive parents for her entire life, they were dead, and now she was to stay with Marilyn. Marilyn hadn't seen the kid in years, though she had longed to. And now that she was to see the girl again, she wasn't sure she was ready to.

The last Marilyn and Tammie had seen her, she'd only been about two, but the girl's foster parents had allowed her to visit every day. Marilyn had loved that kid, but knew she couldn't care for her. It wasn't like they'd been some picture perfect nuclear family. Marilyn had come out as transgender to her parents, they'd kicked her out. Having no money and no job, she'd been forced into prostitution to keep herself live. Her pansexuality had meant she was open to basically anyone. Women were rare, but she did see them on occasion. An hour of nervous fumbling with a woman she had hardly known for ten dollars and a loaf of bread had brought the girl into existence.

Her mother had given her up, and if she could have, Marilyn would have taken her. She'd known better. The girl deserved to be raised by somebody stable and well equipped to do so, not a transgender prostitute stuck in a motel room who was constantly having her life threatened by people who were not so open to the way that she was. So she'd let the child go.

She had a box of letters in her closet written to the girl over the years. Most of them never sent. Mostly out of fear of what her daughter might think of her. The few she had sent had been sent back to her unopened. The letters were filled with nervous apologetic ramblings and expression of love for the girl she hadn't watched grow up, splatters of ink from her pens and scribbled out sentences. She missed that kid so much.

Tammie stirred beside her and sat up. "Hey," Tammie said softly, leaning over to kiss Marilyn's cheek. She pulled Marilyn up into a sitting position and gently stroked her hair. "You look awful, honey. Didn't you sleep?"
"No," Marilyn mumbled. "I'm freaking out. I couldn't sleep. It's been so long. I don't know what's gonna happen when I see her again. I feel so bad. I practically abandoned her. I know she doesn't know it, but I feel horrible. I just...I wish I could've kept her."

"You did what was best," Tammie said gently. "You didn't abandon her. You weren't allowed to talk to her. You did what you could. She grew up best because you gave her up. What if she had stayed and something had happened to us? Or her? What then? We weren't exactly stable in the way we lived. It wasn't a good way for anyone to grow up. I loved her too, and I wish we could have kept her and raised her together. You'll have her back soon enough. I know you're nervous, I am too. But we're all she's got right now."

Tammie stood up and began to dress herself. "I'll go downstairs and make breakfast while you get yourself ready. Take your time. Try to calm down and then come down whenever you're ready, Kitten." She pecked Marilyn on the lips and then she was gone.

Once she had showered, Marilyn stood in the bathroom looking at her reflection in the mirror. She ran her fingers gingerly over her face, which she had just finished shaving. It was smooth. For now at least. Her hormones had redistributed her body fat–given her hips and a more feminine figure, and she had slowly begun to develop small breasts. Tammie, who had been on hormones for much longer, had larger breasts and a feminine figure. She just about passed by this point. Hormones had not, much to their displeasure, eliminated their body hair. It had made it thinner, but the only way to be rid of it was laser hair removal. It had not changed Marilyn's broad shoulders, nor affected her height–nearly six feet tall–and it had not changed her voice. It had never been particularly masculine, but it had always had a bit of a boyish huskiness to it.

She thought about what Tammie had said as she did her makeup. Deep down she knew her lover was right. She'd done what was best. But God damn it did she miss that kid. All those letters in her closet were proof. She wrote a new one every few days. She had never gotten to have any real contact with Dahlia after she'd left. The most she'd been allowed was to send small packets of the girls favorite candy. She did it on holidays, and the girl's birthday of course. She wished she could have afforded to buy her real presents.

Tammie was in the kitchen making french toast on the stove. It was Marilyn's favorite, and she hoped that maybe the meal would help destress the other woman a bit. She knew Marilyn had missed Dahlia. After the girl had been adopted Marilyn had spent about a week and a half alternating between sobbing and sleeping. Tammie had had to coax her into eating, and even then it was always only just a few nibbles.

Tammie looked up as she heard a knock on the door. She was hesitant to answer. She didn't know much about the girl, and the girl knew nothing about her. Tammie wasn't even sure if Dahlia knew she and Marilyn were trans. Stepping away from the stove, she walked over to the door and opened it, smiling as she saw the girl standing there. "Hi," she greeted. "You must be Dahlia." She stepped aside to let the girl in. "I'm Tammie. Marilyn is upstairs getting ready. Come in."
 
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The car ride from the airport was a somber setting, Dahlia and the representative from Social Services sat side by side driving down what felt like the longest stretch of road. They had spent about a week together, maybe two, time had become a bit of a blur since the accident. In a matter of about a week or maybe two, her life had gone from near picture-perfectness to utter ruin.

For the transitional period, Dahlia had been cared for by Karin Murphy. Dahlia liked Karin, she was nice, she didn't talk to her like a pity-case, and she liked musicals too; with those three criteria filled it was pretty easy to become Dahlia's friend. She found herself analyzing Karin though, a habit she didn't like because it felt judgemental and rude, but the agent fascinated her. How many children just like Dahlia had she met in her job? How routine was this for her? Whatever the case, Dahlia was happy the woman hadn't been hardened by witnessing tragedy, Dahlia wished she could be that strong.

The last leg of the journey was spent listening to the Hamilton soundtrack, as per Dahlia's request. The drive had begun with some conversation, btu an hour and a half in, Dahlia was tired. Even talking made her tired now, whereas she used to be able to prattle on about her interests for hours. The music was an attempt to distract herself, but with the thoughts whirring around in her head like a motor she was hardly picking up the words. Only when the volume was lower, did Dahlia come back from her daze.

"Honey? How are you doing?" Karin asked the child, smiling softly with eyes darting between the girl next to her and the road. Dahlia didn't quite know how to answer that yet. Apart from the obvious sadness, she also felt frustrated and frightened. She had just began to make friends before she was pulled out of class. She had hardly gotten a chance to properly say goodbye. Her childhood home, everything she had grown to love and be comfortable with was gone. Now she was moving in with someone she couldn't remember (a rarity for her.) What if they didn't like her? But despite these thoughts, Dahlia spoke up rather calmly.

"Do you think they'll like me?" Dahlia asked, nervously scanning the window for signs of a house. Karin smiled softly and assured her they would, assured her there was nothing not to like, but Dahlia knew she couldn't know for sure. Karin had a little file in her desk about this new family. Family. Is that what they would be now? Regardless, they'd be the closest she had now. Dahlia felt her stomach knotting up when Karin announced they were almost there, her eyes began to well up when they got to the house. This was it.

Dahlia probably could have fit all of her worldly possessions in two containers; she had a suitcase with the shape of two kittens sewn onto it, which held her clothes and essentials, and one violin case containing only a violin inscribed "J. Harper." It had been her fathers. But there was a little more than that, movers had to be hired for the collection of books and movies James had left his daughter, all of which she one day hoped to read and write. The boxes were now up in her new bedroom, which was waiting for her to make a new home.

Her goodbye with Karin was heavy, but Dahlia had the woman's phone number, and her assurance that she was there to talk whenever she needed. She waited in the car, watching Dahlia glance back cautiously before knocking on the door; her heart was heavy. She knew little about these people, and only prayed Dahlia's parents had left their daughters wellbeing to the right people. When the door was open, with a final wave, they parted ways.

Dahlia looked up at Tammie in an awkward silence when she first opened the door, suitcase behind her, and violin case gripped tightly in her hands. There was only one chance for a first impression, so Dahlia put on her bravest face and smiled when Tammie greeted her at the door. "Hi!" Dahlia said back, enthusiasm coming from a place of nerves. "I'm Dahlia Harper, it's nice to meet you Miss Tammie." Dahlia had never really called grown-ups by their first names, so Miss Tammie felt fitting.

She was pretty, and seemed nice enough, but ahia still entered the house cautiously, looking around to take in her surroundings. It was different from her place in the city, but it looked cozy. She slipped off her red converse and stepped softly, it would be a good few months before she didn't feel like a stranger in her new home, she thought. Her ears perked up when she heard the name Marilyn. Dahlia had apparently known this person when she didn't know how to talk, but that memory was excusably foggy. But if her parents trusted Marilyn, Dahlia was eager to meet her, but Dahlia could only wonder if Marilyn was eager to meet her.

"I, uh. I'll try not to impose on you both," Dahlia said to Tammie, sort of like an apology before she had anything to apologize for. "I can cook, and I'm pretty independent." Dahlia was just talking for the sake of talking now, the redness in her cheeks showing off how nervous she was.
 
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Tammie chuckled softly. "You don't have to call me Miss," she said. "I won't bite, I promise." She noticed the violin case after a moment and spoke again. "Do you play?" she asked. "I don't, but Marilyn used to have a violin. I never got to hear her play, but from what I hear she was pretty good at it." She smiled when the girl mentioned cooking. Marilyn was a good cook. Perhaps her daughter had inherited the skill.

"You're not imposing on anyone," Tammie said reassuringly. "We're glad to have you here. Granted, I wish the circumstances were better, but I don't want you to think you're in anybody's way."

Marilyn was standing in her bedroom doorway, fully dressed with her hair still just slightly damp. She could see them, but they couldn't see her. She had to go down there. She couldn't just hide in her room forever. And she really did want to see her daughter again. God, she'd gotten tall. Even from a distance she could see that the two of them looked alike, particularly in the face. Marilyn took a deep breath before slipping out of her bedroom and walking down the stairs.

"Hi," she greeted, smiling at Dahlia as she spoke. "Sorry it took me so long. It’s nice to see you again." What she really wanted to do was hug the girl, shout, "I've missed you!" and never let her go. She didn't though. It took all her willpower not to.
Tammie grinned at her. "There you are," she said. "I thought you'd run off." Tammie moved to stand next to Marilyn. She was the smaller of the pair.

"Are you hungry?" Tammie asked Dahlia. "I made french toast. It's not as good as the stuff Marilyn can make, but I don't think it's bad." Without waiting for an answer she bounced off into the kitchen. Marilyn laughed softly and gave Dahlia a smile before following Tammie.

Tammie had moved the pieces of french toast onto three seperate plates. She put the plates on the table and pulled the syrup out of the cabinet. Once they were all sitting around the table Marilyn looked over at Dahlia again. "Is there anything you want to know about us?" she asked. "Or anything you want to tell us about yourself?"
 
It didn't take long for Dahlia to soften. She normally had a good instinct when it came to people, specifically trusting people; some may call her defensive, Dahlia would take that as a compliment. Her defenses quickly fell, and she became relaxed as she was invited in, even lighting up slightly when Tammie noticed her violin. "I do, actually," Dahlia said with a grin. She was always humble, despite how much she fancied her a little virtuoso. She was even more intrigued when she heard Marilyn played the violin too, maybe they could play together, maybe she could even learn something! "I'll play for you sometime," she offered.

Dahlia was glad, that Tammie was glad, that Marilyn and herself were glad to have her. The circumstances certainly could have been better, but she didn't want to dwell on that. She would have plenty of time to be forlorn when she was supposed to be sleeping, it's how the last week or two had been. Besides, Dahlia heard a "hi" from up the stairs, and tucked her hair behind her ears before turning to face Marilyn.

"Hi." Dahlia greeted Marilyn in a similar way,but just for a fraction of a second, Dahlia was a little bit shocked. It was obvious Marilyn was different from her. Now, that didn't bother Dahlia at all! She was raised by a Democrat, and a Republican, but had always had a naturalized progressive streak. But, truth be told, she wasn't expecting Marilyn to be transgender. As if she had said something wrong, Dahlia flashed her teeth with another, more enthusiastic: "Hi!" But that might have come off a little awkward, oops. Her cheeks turned red and she glanced at the ground before the mention of food.

She smelled the French toast the second she had walked in the door, and it made her stomach growl. She hadn't eaten much lately, but as she was invited in, she realized she couldn't remember the last meal she had. "Yes please, I'm pretty hungry." Dahlia said, following them into the kitchen, gently placing her violin case on top of her suitcase. She would need the energy to unpack anyways, this was home now.

The two women with her were trying to make it feel like home too, Dahlia liked that, but knew it was going to be different. She decided it would probably help the most if they got to know each other. "Umm I guess there's not too much to know about me. I'm twelve, I'm allergic to shellfish. I really like musicals and books and singing." Dahlia could have said more, but felt like she got the broad strokes across. That's what they meant by anything she wanted to tell them, right? Regardless, there was a few things she wanted to ask them.

"This is delicious, too. Thank you," Dahlia said, wiping her mouth before shyly glancing between the two of them. "There is something though, I uh," she paused and then focused her eyes on Marilyn. "We've met before, right? I mean, I guess I was a baby or something, but how do we know each other?" Dahlia asked curiously. There had to be a reason her parents would list her specifically as a Godparent, and as curious as they come, Dahlia wanted to find out.
 
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Tammie smiled as Dahlia offered to play the violin for her sometime. “I’d like that,” she said.

As Marilyn descended the stairs, Dahlia greeted her, and Marilyn could see the surprise on her face. She hadn’t expected Marilyn to be the way that she was. She saw the girl’s face redden slightly, and Marilyn flashed her a small, reassuring smile.

Tammie led them into the kitchen, and once they were all seated around the table, Dahlia spoke again. “I like musicals too,” Marilyn told her, grinning at the idea of finding yet another common interest with her daughter. “And Tammie is a writer. Maybe you could read one of her stories sometime. I like books, but I’m not much of a writer.”

And then Dahlia asked her own question. Granted, Marilyn had known she would ask it at some point, but part of her had been hoping she would forget.

“We’ve met before,” she said. “You met Tammie a couple of times too.” She paused. “I was a friend of your mother’s a long time ago.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. She had met both Dahlia’s birth mother and adoptive mother at least once, and though you wouldn’t really call a one night stand a friendship, it was the best response she had.

After all, it wasn’t like she could tell Dahlia the truth. Knowing the truth would crush her, especially since Marilyn knew that she had been close with her father. The last thing Marilyn wanted to do to Dahlia was cause her anymore pain.
 
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Well with a few other common interests, Dahlia wasn't too worried about settling in. With having no memory of either of them, Dahlia didn't know what to expect. She had been worried they would hate everything she likes, or not let her practice violin, or something. She had a habit of expecting the worst. Who she got wasn't what she was expecting, but she didn't think that would be an issue.

"You both have good tastes in hobbies." Dahlia said before a chomp of her French toast. She didn't even realize how hungry she was until that first bite, and with the amount of food Dahlia could intake, she knew this meal wouldn't last long. "This is really good," Dahlia said again, almost forgetting to swallow before she spoke.

At the mention of her mother, Dahlia grinned the slightest bit while thinking about her. "You knew my mama?" She asked curiously, feeling like she never really got to know her mother herself. "How about my dad, did you know him too?"

She wanted to know everything about her parents. She couldn't ask them anymore, but maybe others could tell her about them.

"To be honest. I wish my parents had let me meet you before, well," she said, looking at her plate before back up at Marilyn. "You must have been close, I mean, to make you my Godparent and all."
 
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Tammie smiled as the child complimented her cooking. "Thank you," she said. "I'm glad you like it. I tried. Wait until you taste Marilyn's cooking. If you think my food is good, you might not be able to handle hers." She gave a soft, slightly nervous chuckle. She didn't have the same reasons to be nervous as Marilyn did, but she still wanted Dahlia to like her. She had gone to visit her with Marilyn for abut a year before Dahlia was adopted, and she'd grown rather attached to the child in the short time she had known her.

Dahlia perked up a bit at the mention of her mother, and quickly asked about her father. Tammie saw Marilyn's expression change for the briefest of moments, and then the woman sat her glass down and swallowed her juice to answer the girl.

"I did know him," Marilyn answered. "Perhaps better than I knew your mother." She wasn't talking about James, of course. She was thinking of herself. The person she had been then seemed lifetimes back. A nervous kid on the brink of death, desperate for any money or food she could get. She still carried a knife in her purse when she went out, even though she wasn't wandering the streets all night anymore.

The idea of being anyone's father still made her stomach turn. It wasn't that she didn't love Dahlia, of course she did, but the idea of it had always set off her dysphoria, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. She didn't want to replace Dahlia's father, who she had clearly been close to, and she didn't want to replace her mother either. She just...wanted to be Dahlia's friend, for a start.
 
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At home, Dahlia had been the best cook out of the three. Her dad knew a few staple meals that became her comfort food, and her mum often attempted some healthy vegan recipes she found online (to varying degrees of success.) She was excited to try Marilyn's food, she could probably cook circles around her. "Okay, cool," Dahlia said before taking the last bite of French toast. "I'm trying to go vegetarian too, kinda. It's hard." Dahlia said with a shrug. "I really like animals." Dahlia wondered if Marilyn and Tammie would let her have a pet? But it was probably too early to be thinking like that.

Looking down at her feet, then back up at Marilyn, Dahlia maintained a smile to stop the flood of questions she had from escaping. She knew dad, of course. James Harper may have been the smartest man she'd ever met, and the most caring; this had always lead Dahlia to believe kindness and intelligence come hand in hand. But her West Virginia born and bred mother had always been a little more rigid in her values. Had she known who Marilyn was?

It didn't matter though. And Dahlia didn't want to pry into their lives. Maybe there was a reason Tammie and Marilyn hadn't seen her since she was a child, she didn't want to poke around and risk making a bad relationship with her new family. Foster family?

"Thanks again both of you. I can help clean up." Dahlia had to offer, even though she was almost certain they would refuse to let her clean on her first night, she gathered up her dishes and brought them to the sink anyways. When she turned back around there was a curious glint in her eye. "Would I be able to see my room after though?"
 
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"I like animals too," Marilyn said. "We don't have any, but my family had a dog when I was younger. My brother has a ferret that he takes with him just about everywhere. I'm sure you'll meet him eventually." She paused. "Both the ferret and my brother. I've been cutting my brother's hair for him for years. He hasn't been by to have it done in a while and last time I saw him it was getting pretty long."

When the girl mentioned trying to go vegetarian, Marilyn smiled at her. "I'll keep that in mind," she said. "I don't know many good vegetarian recipes, but I'm sure I can learn more." She opened her mouth to protest when Dahlia offered to help clean up, but the girl had already swooped in and taken her dishes to the sink before she could say anything.

"You can see your room now if you want," Tammie said, gathering up the rest of the dishes and placing them into the sink. "I can do the dishes later. They aren't going anywhere." She headed out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Marilyn followed Tammie down the hallway to the bedroom they had prepared for Dahlia. "This is your room," Tammie told her. "I hope its okay. We weren't exactly sure what you liked, but the social worker mentioned you liked pink. If you want we can go out sometime in the next couple days and get some stuff to make it more to your tastes."
 
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So Marilyn had a brother, that was cool. Dahlia guessed that he would be like her uncle? In Chicago, Dahlia never saw much of her few aunts and uncles, her parents hadn't been close with their families. "Oh neat, what are their names?" Dahlia asked about the brother, and his ferret of course. The fact that he had a pet was a good sign though, maybe it meant Tammie and Marilyn didn't have allergies? A fact she'd file away for later

"I'll help too," Dahlia said when Marilyn mentioned how she would look into more vegetarian recipes. She didn't want to be a burden. "I'm a quick learner, I mean, maybe I'll be able to help?" Dahlia suggested softly, always cautious when asking to help, as she didn't want to overstep her bounds. She followed them up to her room eagerly, red hair bouncing behind her as she carefully walked herself and her violin up the stairs.

Dahlia didn't know what to expect from behind the door, but she had already decided to herself she wasn't going to complain regardless of what it was. She hadn't been prepared when Tammie opened the door, revealing what was essentially her dream bedroom. "T-this is mine?" Dahlia asked, looking between the two women, a flicker in her eye as the corners of her mouth pulled up into a smile. It was so pink.

She gently placed the violin case on her bed and looked around the room. If all Karin had done was told Tammie and Marilyn that she liked pink, then she had done a good job. "I love it." Dahlia quickly assured the two of them. "It..." She was at a bit of a loss for words. It was a strange feeling, but she briefly felt a joy so powerful it quickly turned to sadness; her parents would never get to see her new room, they wouldn't get to tuck her in or kiss her goodnight. She tried to keep her smile, but the tears were too strong, and Dahlia turned her head away from Marilyn and Tammie.

"I'm sorry. It's so nice I just..." She felt her lip trembling and quickly decided it wasn't worth trying to hide her emotions from them. "I just need to cry a bit." And as she did just that, Dahlia grabbed the closest person into a tight hug, which happened to be Marilyn.
 
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"My brother's name is Devin," Marilyn said. "We're twins, actually, though we don't look much alike anymore. His ferret's name is Marbles." Marilyn and Devin had always been close, even as Marilyn had grown more distant and depressed around puberty. Devin had supported Marilyn all her life, despite their parents disapproval. As children they had often stayed up late into the night and gorged themselves on sweets that Marilyn had baked and hidden in their bedroom.

"You're welcome to help," Tammie said, chuckling softly at the girl's hesitant response. "We just don't want you to feel like you have to do everything." She led the girl up the stairs and paused to wait for Dahlia's reaction once the door had been opened. Tammie smiled and gently nudged the child forward as Dahlia's lips turned into a smile. "It's all yours," she said. "I take it that means you like it then?"

Dahlia pulled Marilyn into a hug then, and Marilyn stiffened for a moment before relaxing and wrapping her arms around her daughter. How long had it been since their last hug? She had tried to hug Dahlia at their last meeting before she had been adopted. but she had been so used to her foster family by that time that the child had simply looked at her like she was a stranger.

The girl had burst into tears at this point, and Marilyn kept her wrapped in her embrace. "I know, honey," she murmured softly, gently stroking Dahlia's hair. "It's okay to be sad."
 
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"Marbles," Dahlia repeated the name quietly to herself, with a small grin. She liked the name, and she was sure she would like the ferret too. Also, wow, a twin. Dahlia had always wanted a twin, she had to admit she was a little jealous when Marilyn said that. She was a little too awestruck with the room to respond though. It was hard to tell she would have the reaction she did. Tears seemed like the most obvious go to for her, and Marilyn was right, it was okay to be sad. But there was something about her embrace that brought Dahlia's tears to a standstill.

With a sniffle, Dahlia looked up at Marilyn for a moment. Her wide eyes were still tinted red from the crying, but the fragility she had a moment ago was suppressed, she pushed it down. She nodded her head when Marilyn assured here it was okay to be sad, because it was. But the timing didn't feel right. She still wanted to explore her new home, and get settled in. After holding the hug a little longer, Dahlia finally let Marilyn go and began to look through the boxes that were stacked against the wall.

"I-its mostly books. I like reading," Dahlia said about her belongings, having packed the boxes herself to try keep them organized. Her eyes turned to the bookshelf across her room, she was glad they picked one out for her. It made Dahlia wonder if Tammie or Marilyn had ever wanted to have a child? Well, she wouldn't be a child much longer now, less than a year until she was thirteen, and soon after that she'd be in secondary school.

"Say. When do you think I'll be able to go back to school?" Dahlia asked the two. It kind of seemed soon to be jumping back into school, but if there was one thing Dahlia needed it was a distraction. When her mind got restless, all she had left was to think about her family and her sadness. She hoped Tammie and Marilyn wouldn't mind, but Dahlia felt she would be sticking close to at least one of them for company.
 
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“You’ll like them,” Marilyn said softly, speaking of her brother and his ferret. “They’ll be glad to meet you.” Devin had only met Dahlia once or twice. He had been away at film school out of state for the vast majority of her life, and he was still struggling to finish his degree even now. He had had constant starts and stops, most of them caused by him leaving school out of worry for his sister. The first of them had been following Dahlia’s adoption, when Marilyn had sunken into a depression. When Devin had stopped hearing from Marilyn, he had shown up to check on her, despite Tammie’s constant reassurance. That was Devin for you. Always showing up to haul her back to her feet, no matter how hard she pushed him away.

She wiped a tear from Dahlia’s cheek as the girl looked up at her. Marilyn gently tousled the girl’s hair. “There,” she said. “Feel better?”

Tammie turned curiously toward the boxes that Dahlia had begun to paw through. She leaned down and slowly began to help unpack the books. “I don’t judge,” Tammie said with a smile. “My bookshelf is overflowing. I can’t remember ever having an empty shelf.” She paused for a moment as she set the books on the shelf. “If you’re ever looking for something new to read, you’re more than welcome to something off my shelf.”

Dahlia asked about school. They had enrolled her in the school down the street, but they hadn’t given a definite start date. “When do you want to go back?” Marilyn asked. “I suppose you could start on Monday if you really felt desperate to start again.”

Tammie spent a bit longer pulling books from boxes, and then glanced over her shoulder at Dahlia. “Do you want us to help you unpack?” She asked. “Or would you rather we let you settle in?”
 
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Dahlia pulled a half-hearted smile, nodding as Marilyn wiped the last of her tears away. Crying felt good in small doses, but nothing could really make her feel better right now. She was eager to unpack her things, but everything she owned had a story; her dad had liked to spoil her, he picked her up little gifts almost daily. Every teddy bear, every book, every playbill was a bit of her parents.

She appreciated the help, and when Tammie mentioned being a bookworm herself. "That would be great," She said softly. "I think I've read most of mine." Most of them, Dahlia was a bit of a hoarder when it came to books, there were some textbooks mixed in with her collection, which she'd tuck away on the bottom shelf. She put the ones she was most proud of at the top. The entire works of William Shakespeare had been bought for her at Stratford-Upon-Avon, Shakespeare's birthplace. She was young at the time, but remembered her family's trip to the UK, it was the only trip she'd get to take with her parents, when they'd always spoken of travelling the world.

She was looking at her Bible after they started to discuss school. "You are my alpha and omega. You are my everything -Love Daddy" was written on the inside cover. Her parents had been secular people, it was Dahlia's own decision to gravitate towards religion. Right now, she was a little soured, so she put it on her end table and focused on school instead.

"I'm ready now." Dahlia responded quickly and eagerly to Marilyn. "I mean, Monday will work for me." She confirmed, if she seemed a bit too eager to get back, it's because she was. "I get kinda nervous in new schools. I used to get bullied in Chicago by other kids," Dahlia pouted her lips for a second and then shrugged. "Other people my age don't really like me sometimes. But I like school. Just getting to know people, that's the band-aid I wanna rip off." She offered her explanation before realizing she was rambling, a habit of hers.

"Sorry," she said. The offer to let her settle in was met with resistance, Dahlia shook her head immediately. "No don't go." She said. "I, uh, being alone gives me time to think. Right now I don't really want to think." She was excited to have the upacking done, too, and the help was appreciated. Once that was done, she could settle down and watch her DVD's, she had Seinfeld, and King of the Hill box sets, her favorite shows. Her taste in television had earned the confusion hf her father. "You're a strange kid, Dollie." He would lovingly say. But she hoped Marilyn and Tammie wouldn't find her too strange.
 
"Feel free to go have a look whenever you'd like," Tammie said of her bookshelf. She had begun separating the books she unpacked into piles. She was unsure where Dahlia would choose to place them on the shelves, but she supposed separating them by category for now couldn't hurt.

Marilyn glanced at the bible in Dahlia's hands. Marilyn herself hadn't read a bible since her childhood. Her parents had been religious people, and for a time she had had a children's bible with extravagant oil paintings every few pages. Marilyn had spent more time admiring the paintings than reading the actual bible itself. She had soured towards the idea of religion as she had grown older, her dysphoria playing a part, but if it made Dahlia happy, there was no reason to object.

She nodded when Dahlia said she would prefer to start school now. "I'll call and let the school know," Marilyn said, starting out the doorway. "I'll be right back." She headed off down the hallway, casting a small smile back at Dahlia.

"I understand," Tammie said as Dahlia mentioned school. "Kids used to make fun of me when I was young. Marilyn too. I'm sure you'll make some new friends."
 
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After placing down her bible, Dahlia got to helping Tammie with the sorting. She looked forward to pawing through their bookshelf too. “Thanks for the help,” Dahlia said. She looked back up at Marilyn, who had glanced at the Bible. Now, Dahlia was no slouch, she watched the news, she knew how people used their faith to make people like Marilyn and Tammie’s lives harder. Dahlia couldn’t understand the way some people’s minds work, and it made her angry. She hoped her new family wouldn’t think less of her for her religion. But before she brought it up, Marilyn said she’d call the school.

“Thank you thank you!!” Dahlia lit up as Marilyn went to make the call, already conjuring up pictures in her head of what her new school might look like. She offered a lopsided smirk and nodded when Tammie sympathized with her.

“Kids are mean,” she declared. “I think I’m an old woman trapped in this body. I don’t get along with kids these days, I don’t like loud music, and I’m bad with technology.” She said, grinning and looking at her old, pink Nokia flip phone. Smart phones overwhelmed her, she only ever used her mum’s phone to play with silly apps like Doodle Jump or Plants Vs. Zombies.

“I’m gonna be positive though. I mean, I don’t think there’s anyone heartless enough to make fun of an orphan.” Orphan. She said the word so carelessly in an attempt at dark humor, but it struck her. She hadnt thought of herself like that yet, but it was true. She was an orphan now, like Alexander Hamilton, the star of the musical she had been obsessing over. It made him strong, Dahlia hoped it would make her strong too, but mostly she just felt empty.

“That joke wasn’t as funny as I thought.” Dahlia said, but shook it off as to not get emotional again. “It sucks. Missing people sucks. How long will it be until you think this feeling goes away Tammie?” She knew she was asking an impossible question, but she was fishing for any sort of relief from the pain.
 
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Tammie chuckled softly as Dahlia mentioned being bad with technology. "I was like that too," she said. "When I was your age. I didn't have many friends and I didn't talk much. I read a lot of books. Did a lot of writing--none of it was good. I also had what were probably the world's thickest glasses. I got picked on for that so much that I stopped wearing them. Of course, then I couldn't see shit, so I walked into everything and got made fun of for that instead. Thank god for contact lenses."

Tammie put an arm around Dahlia as she spoke. "Orphan or not," she said, "You've got us now." The child quickly shook off the joke, and then asked the question Tammie had hoped she wouldn't. Partly because she knew there was no perfect answer to it. "It doesn't go away," she said. "But it'll lessen as time goes on. My mother died years ago and I still miss her. I wish she were still here. I barely slept, I lost my job, I was homeless for a while. But eventually I was happy again. And you will be too. Of course you'll always miss your parents, but it won't hurt this much forever."

Tammie gave Dahlia's shoulder a squeeze as Marilyn came back into the room. "All right," Marilyn said. "You start school on Monday. "I'll have to get you a housekey, in case you come home and we're at work." She paused and looked back to Dahlia again. "Are you all right"

(I'm sorry my replies are taking so long. I haven't been doing well lately and my motivation to write comes and goes)
 
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"Oh I'm sure you're writing wasn't bad." Dahlia said when Tammie dismissed herself. Heck, Dahlia wished she could do any sort or writing, but no matter how much she loved reading she never felt confident enough to pick up a pen (or a keyboard.) Dahlia hid a giggle thinking about the bespectacled Tammie. She was very beautiful, Dahlia didn't think glasses would take away from it.

Her face turned though, quite visibly, as soon as she heard the word "shit." She looked surprised, as if she had just broken a priceless vase. "Wait. Um, am I allowed to swear?" Dahlia kept a hushed voice. Her father had hated swearing, as he decided it lacked nobility. For the most part she agreed with him, but she also felt the odd "shit" or "bitch" peppered into sentences could drive a point home sometimes. "I mean not all the time, but like once a day or something?"

With her mind now brightened with the potential to cuss once in a while, Dahlia felt even warmer when Tammie put her arm around her, and she returned the hug. She felt sorry for Tammie as she described her past, but was happy she had come so far. Dahlia couldn't imagine being homeless, she'd lived quite a sheltered life and hadn't been exposed to much loss until, well, now. But she was reminded that everyone suffered loss. "Time heals all wounds." Dahlia said, not entirely sure if she could agree with the sentiment yet or not.

She turned around to face Marilyn when she came back with the good news about school. "Yay," Dahlia said, cheerily but somber because of the conversation they were just having. When Marilyn asked if she was alright, Dahlia shrugged. "Yeah, I will be." She said confidently. She was a little nervous about getting too and from school by herself (as her father or mother had normally driven her everywhere she needed to be,) but she decided not to let that show.

((No problem, I understand!))
 
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Tammie laughed. Oh believe me, it was bad." She shrugged. "It had to be bad before it wound up being decent." She smirked when Dahlia's eyes widened at the swear word. She had long forgotten about the taboo of such things. "Go ahead," Tammie told her. "You can swear. "Neither of us are going to care. I'm sure we've both said and heard a lot worse than you can dish out."

Being on the streets had forced both her and Marilyn to learn to do and say whatever would keep them alive. Tammie had spat out more foul things than she could remember, sometimes in defense, sometimes because she had been forced to. Some guys would actually pay her more just to treat them like shit. Tammie shrugged and gave Dahlia's shoulder a squeeze as the girl spoke. "I suppose you're right," she said. "Some slower than others."

Marilyn smiled when she saw Tammie and Dahlia sitting together. "Don't worry," she said. "School won't be so bad. I can drive you there the first couple of days. You might like the time alone after school."