How She Lives

"Don't look now, but Elsie is back again."

"Again? Really?"

"I know its odd isn't it?"

"Three foster families, all of them dead."

"Now there's another to add to the bunch. I doubt any one will take her now."

"I wouldn't bet on it. There's something about her."

"I feel it too."

Elsie came into the system when both her parents died in a mysterious accident. Her wide eyes and cute smile attracted prospective families almost the minute her tiny feet waddled through the door. Soon she was taken, leaving her brother Richard to fend for himself. He was a bit older and no one wanted him; children older than six were generally considered to be damaged goods.

He stayed with us while she went galavanting from one unlucky household to another. All cases were examined extensively. The FBI had even gotten involved. Nothing was found - no hair, no fibers, no fingerprints, no clues. I imagined that if I were Elsie I would be afraid of my own shadow by now, but she seemed untroubled. Perhaps she felt safe knowing that in all three cases, she had been spared. Maybe she just hid her fear really well. Among the staff, her carefree appearance replaced pity with suspicion. In their minds, however unlikely it seemed, there was always the inkling that she'd been the one to kill them. I'd never seen her cry, but most of the children here don't cry.

I put on my happy face and went to greet her.

I kneeled down so that we were almost at eye level.

"Hi Elsie."

"Hello Ms. Gardener."

"How are you doing today?"

"Fine thank you."

She smiled and I could see the gap where her two front teeth had been three months prior.

"I see you lost some baby teeth."

"I did."

"Did you get anything from the tooth fairy?"

"Don't be silly Ms. Gardener. I know there's no tooth fairy."

"Well..." I cleared my throat.

"It would seem that you are joining us once again."

"She nodded solemnly then her mouth widened into a grin and she said,

"Can I see my brother?"

"Sure Elsie."

She ran down the hall, suitcase swinging, while I informed the gentlemen that had escorted her that they were no longer needed and let them go.

I sighed, then frowned. I followed the sound of her voice and watched her babble to her brother animatedly. He was watching TV but occasionally nodded so she knew he was listening. I just couldn't understand it, what I felt seeing her like that. Her bright green eyes filled with excitement though she'd been through so much tragedy. But such excitement so soon afterwards, was a bit shocking. I shook my head and left them to their devices.

A couple weeks later, it seemed that Elsie was becoming well readjusted to life at the orphanage, when a couple came to,“take a look at the merchandise.”They took one look at her and were enamored. They said she was just what they were looking for. After filling out the paperwork, they said they would come back for her the next week. They needed to get “prepared.”

As the date approached I observed Elsie and her brother becoming more despondent. They would have to separate again, so soon after being reunited. It was sad, but it wasn’t an unfamiliar experience, and though I felt for them, I tried not to let it show lest I be accused of favoritism.

The day she was to be transfered they came to me in their pajamas while I was preparing breakfast. For a long while they just stood there staring. Not sure what to do, I went about my business. As I was lighting the stove, Elsie began to cry.

“I don’t want to go Ms. Gardener. Don’t make me go. I want to stay here. I’m happy here,” she whined.

I knelt down and embraced her.

“Shh... Don’t cry. Listen the Cardigans seem like very nice people and they want a child to love. Don’t you want to be loved, Elsie.”

She nodded and for a while there was silence.

Suddenly her brother shouted angrily, “She doesn’t need to go live with strangers to be loved. I love her.” He paused in frustration, then said,“She doesn’t want to go. Why are you making her go.”

This time I told them the truth.

“If they want to take her, we can’t keep her here. There are hardly enough resources and more children will be coming.”

“But-”

“I have to finish preparing breakfast.” I turned back to the stove. “ Now run along and get dressed.”I started dicing tomatoes and that was the end of it. They left. After they were gone, mysteriously a droplet of water fell on my hand.

She was picked up that afternoon.

That night, I couldn’t sleep, thinking about the children’s plight as well as my own. Having been in foster care as a child, I’d consigned myself to living my life for children facing the same hardships that I had. I thought it would make me happy, but on nights like this it left me feeling hollow inside.

I got up to get some chamomile tea from the kitchen. To my surprise I found Richard already there replacing a knife in one of the drawers.

“What are you doing up young man?”

“I couldn’t sleep so I came to get some bread and butter. It reminds me of home. My mom used give me some every night before bed.”He paused then added, “I really miss her.”

He started walking back to the boys' room. I noticed he had shoes on. I said nothing. I checked the bread bag. Not a slice was missing. I boiled the tea and went back to bed. I still couldn't sleep.

What I had suspected the night before was in the papers the next morning. Elsie’s adoptive parents were found before dawn, stabbed to death in their beds.