Shenanigans: Quarantine Edition

She hadn’t wanted to go.

Okay, that’s a lie, she had wanted to go, but she hadn’t wanted to go with Rafael and Jane, but Jane’d been trying so hard since Rose’s death (she’s gotten better at it, at thinking it, but the thought still sits wrong in the center of her chest, like a big brick wall that she can’t work her way around), and she knows how important family is to Jane and by extension to Rafael, the same as family had been important to their father (and how she wished he had understood that years earlier, wished that he had understood that Rose was just as much her family as he was, wished that he hadn’t made her choose between them—no, that’s the wrong way to put that, her therapist told her not to blame other people for her own mistakes, Raf hadn’t made her choose, but she had chosen)—

Jane still doesn’t feel like family.  There’s still something off between them, and maybe it’s that she’d gotten Jane pregnant without Jane’s consent, and even if Mateo has been such a joy, and even if that was such a huge part of why Jane and Rafael were together now, that doesn’t change the fact that she still did it and she didn’t say anything and Rose’s death doesn’t change that.

Murder.

Death.

Does the word really matter?

But she had wanted to go, and even though she hadn’t wanted to go with Rafael and Jane, they are still all here together.  Jane’s been a huge help in getting all of their papers in order, and now it’s just…visiting the kids.  Seeing if they clicked with any of them.  Jane’s less about the whole clicking process because, as she said, adopting a kid isn’t like adopting a pet, you can’t just send them back if you don’t like them, and kids aren’t animals, they’re actually living breathing human beings, and Luisa doesn’t know who exactly Jane thinks she’s talking to because Luisa certainly never thought of people that way.  Maybe Jane was telling herself.  Maybe she was telling Raf.  Maybe it doesn’t matter because she was right.  Children aren’t pets.  She knows that.

Jane and Rafael are still in the large brick building.  They’ve been inside for what feels like ages.  Luisa doesn’t know why it’s taking them so long,  No, she has an idea, and it’s largely centered on Jane trying to get as much information on each of the kids as she possibly can: names, backgrounds, height, weight, favorite class, age, all of that statistics stuff that don’t matter near as much as the kids themselves.  Luisa doesn’t care about all of that.  Not in the slightest.  Not beyond what the kids want her to know.

They’d arrived while the kids were at school, and she’s pretty sure that’s Jane’s planning so that she has time to go through everything, but really it just means that Luisa is bored.  And right now, bored means that she’s thinking.  Not good thoughts.  Mostly wondering if she would ever have been here with Rose.  She…doesn’t like to think about Rose anymore.

“Are you okay?”

Luisa looks up, and there in front of her is a small child, her blonde hair pulled back into pigtails that just hit her shoulders, her hands wrapped around her bright pink backpack straps.  The girl’s blue eyes are just as bright as her backpack is, but they are crystal clear, the image of a cloudless sky but darker.  A spattering of freckles dusts the bridge of her nose and just under her eyes, leaving the rest of her porcelain skin perfectly clear.

“Of course I’m okay,” Luisa says, her voice soft as a smile dances its way across her lips.  “Do I look bad?”

The girl’s brows furrow, and her lips press together.  “You looked sad, and I thought I’d come help you feel better if you feel bad.”  Her eyes shift.  “Well, we’d come help you feel better.  But I don’t know where Mia went.”

Luisa hears the name, and it takes a second for her to breathe again.  When she can, her head tilts to one side.  “Mia?”

“Yeah.”  The girl scuffs her shoe on the cobblestone and then looks back up again.  “I think she went to get Cat, but I told her not to because we don’t know if you’re allergic or not.  But I think that’s where she went anyway.”  She tilts her head to one side.  “You’re not allergic, are you?”

“To cats?  No.  But it’s very sweet of you to be concerned.”  Luisa offers her another smile.  “I’m Luisa, by the way,” she says and starts to offer her hand, until she realizes how super formal that is and how much she would not have cared when she was a kid.  So instead, she wraps her hands around her knees.  “What’s your name?”

“I’m not supposed to tell my names to strangers,” the girl says, but then she grins, “but I guess if I know your name, then you’re not a stranger, are you?”  Her blue eyes twinkle with mischief.  “I’m Rose.”

And for the second time during their conversation, Luisa finds it hard to breathe.  “You’re…Rose?” she asks, and she can’t stop her voice from being very quiet.

“Well, that’s not really my name, but I don’t like my name, so I thought that one might be nice, since roses are so pretty, and I’m so pretty.  You do think I’m pretty, don’t you, Ms. Alver?”  The girl knocks her shoes together.  This time when she grins, Luisa can see Rose in her, and her heart aches.

“Luisa,” she corrects, voice gentle, and before she can think of how best to answer the girl whose name is not Rose, she notices another girl coming up behind her with a ratty black cat slumped in her arms.  “Is that Mia?” she asks, nodding over the blonde girl’s shoulder.

The blonde girl looked over her shoulder, and a happy grin splits her face, all teeth and her cheeks a bright red.  “Yes!  Only don’t call her that,” she says very quickly, turning back to Luisa.  “She wants to use a different name, too.  I can’t remember what it is,” she says in a hush, “but she’ll tell you if you ask her.”

The cat in Mia’s arms bats at the braid in her dark hair a couple of times as she carries it forward, then its one good gold eye focuses on Luisa.  This close, she can see the scar through its missing left eye, the chunk missing from its right ear, and when Mia places it down next to her, she notices that it’s missing one leg.  Her eyes flick to Mia, whose eyes seem completely focused on the cat instead of on her.  “Hello,” she says, and the girl looks up briefly before looking back down to her cat, “my name’s Luisa.  What’s your name?”

“Joan.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

The girl nods.  “You looked sad, so I brought you my cat.  His name is Cat.”  She brushes her hand through his matted fur.  “He doesn’t really like people.”  The but he likes me is inferred as she continued to pet him, the black cat butting his head against her hand.

Luisa holds her hand out to the cat.  He sniffs her fingers, tail flicking once, then turns back to Mia-Joan, who sits down on the cobblestone steps next to her, and curls up in her lap.  “I guess he doesn’t like me much.”

“You’re new.  He doesn’t trust new people.”

“Ah.”

“He doesn’t like me either,” the blonde girl who calls herself Rose says.  She creeps up behind Mia-Joan and taps the cat.  His fur bristles, and he looks up at her, letting out a low hiss.  “See?”

Mia-Joan gives the blonde girl a sharp look.  “You’re not nice to him.”

“I’m not mean to him.”

Luisa waits to see how Mia-Joan will respond, but she just gives the blonde girl who is not named Rose another glare and goes back to petting her cat.  The blonde tugs on Mia-Joan’s braid and then wraps her arms around the other girl’s neck and leans forward, her head on her shoulder, before pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.  When Mia-Joan turns to face her, the blonde gives her a big grin.

Luisa laughs.  “You two seem to be good friends.”

“Yes!” the blonde says at the same time that the brunette says, very emphatically, “No.”

“What do you mean no?” the blonde asks, her lips contorting into a pout.  She still hasn’t moved from the other girl’s neck.  “You like me.  I know you like me.”

The brunette focuses on the cat, whose eye has closed as she’s continued petting him.  “You make me call you Rose, but you won’t call me Joan.”

“It’s because I forget.”

“But you get mad when I forget.”  The brunette frowns.

The blonde shrugs.  “So I won’t forget.  Then we can be friends again, right?”

“Sure.”

Luisa holds out her hand for the cat again, and he brushes his nose against her fingertips.  She scratches along his chin until his ears lay back.  Then she asks, “Why Joan?”

“I like it.  It’s my name.”

“Does it have anything to do with Joan of Arc?”

Joan freezes, and she looks up, meeting Luisa’s eyes.  Then she turns to the blonde.  “You told.”

“Did not!”  The blonde pulls away from Joan and crosses her arms.  “I can’t tell if I don’t remember!”

“No, no,” Luisa’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head.  “She didn’t tell me anything,” she says.  She reaches over and touches Joan’s knee; the cat gives her a strong look, and she pulls back.  “Joan of Arc was always my favorite saint.  I couldn’t think—”

“Really?” the blonde asks, her blue eyes sparkling.  “She’s Mia’s favorite, too!”

“Don’t tell!”  Joan turns so quickly that the cat jumps from her lap.  She swats at the blonde, who tries to jump away from her.  “And you said you’d remember my name!”

“Oh, right, she’s Joan’s favorite.”  The blonde gives Luisa a bright grin.

“You’re not supposed to tell!”  Each word is emphasized with a punch on the other girl’s arm, but the blonde doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

If Luisa hadn’t known it before (she did), then she knows it now (more than ever) – she loves both of these kids.  She wants to take both of them home with her.  Given that’s why she’s here in the first place, she thinks that can’t be too hard of a stretch.  So, without putting much thought into it, she asks, “You both live here, right?”

“At the orphanage?” the blonde asks.  “Yeah.”  She frowns.  “It sucks, though.  There’s a lot of crying and sometimes it’s really cold and the food isn’t as good as it is at school, and the food at school isn’t even good.”

“What would you think,” Luisa starts, “if I adopted both of you?”

The blonde gasps, and her eyes grow even brighter.  But Joan just shakes her head.  “You won’t want us when you meet the others.  No one ever wants us.”

“I want you.”

“No, you don’t.”  Joan looks up and meets Luisa’s eyes, and if she hadn’t known Rose, she’d say it was the fiercest look she’d ever seen.  But the kid is too small and too young, and she has absolutely nothing on the woman she once loved (and killed).  “And I don’t want to be adopted with Rose anyway.”

Hearing the blonde called by that name makes Luisa freeze for a moment again.  She’s been trying to avoid her name, trying to not make that connection, and for the most part, that’s been easy enough.  But when Joan mentions it, she can’t help the immediate, involuntary reaction.  It takes a second for Luisa to stop the rushing sound in her ears, but as soon as she does, she’s presented with the image of the blonde girl stunned to silence.

Or not quite silence.

“You don’t want to be sisters?” the blonde asks.

Joan shakes her head and looks down.

“You don’t want to live together anymore?”

Joan shakes her head again and begins drawing something on the cobblestones.

“You want us to be separated forever?”

“No,” Joan says, finally, “but I don’t want us to be sisters.  I want us to be friends.”

“But sisters are just better friends.”

“No, they’re not.”

“Yes, they are!”

Joan doesn’t say anything more, but her brow furrows.  She looks up and meets Luisa’s eyes briefly and then looks back down again, and in that instant, Luisa gets it – or as much as she can get it.  It causes her to smile just the briefest bit.  She reaches over and pats Joan’s knee again, and with the cat having scampered off to watch from afar, Joan doesn’t shift away.  Instead, she looks up again, brows still furrowed, and searches Luisa’s eyes.

Then the door to the building slams shut.  Joan jumps, and Luisa pulls her hand back.  She looks to the door where Rafael is standing with his hands jammed in his pockets, looking down.  “Stay here,” she says to the girls, and they both nod emphatically.

The blonde follows Luisa’s gaze, and then she asks, “Is he allergic to cats?”

“No,” Luisa says, and when Joan meets her eyes again, she gives her a wink.  Rafael might not especially like cats – too afraid that they’ll get fur all over his clothes – but she is certain that he would fall in love with the attempt to make him feel better just like she had.  And, really, that’s what she needs to get her plan to work without a hitch.

…and convince Jane to agree with her, which might take a little more work.

As Joan goes off to find her cat again, Luisa turns to the blonde and takes a deep breath.  “Rose,” she says, and the word aches as she says it, even as the blonde girl looks toward her, “whatever you do, don’t tell him or his wife that your name is Rose.  It needs to be our little secret, okay?”

“Why?” the blonde asks.  “Is it a bad name?”

“No.  I think it’s a very pretty name for a very pretty lady,” Luisa says, and she watches as the blonde smiles, “but a very bad lady used to give them a lot of trouble and her name was Rose.  I think they’ll like you just as much as I do, but I’m afraid if you tell them your name, that’s all they’ll hear.”

“Well, that’s stupid.”  The blonde kicks at one of the steps.  “It shouldn’t matter what my name is.  They should love me just the same no matter what.”

“I agree with you, but I want you to have your best chance.”

“Why can’t you adopt me?  And then we can leave Joan here.  Or they can adopt Joan.  You don’t mind about my name, do you?”

Luisa looks down and brushes her hair behind one ear.  “I don’t mind,” she lies, because it’s still hard to say the name, worse still to call her a very bad lady, but the kid’s feelings are more important than her own, “but they have a kid who I think you’d be good friends with and I don’t think Joan would do good living with him.”

“She might.  We have lots of kids here that she….”  The blonde’s voice fades, and she frowns.  “She really only gets along with me.”

Luisa nods.  “That man over there,” she nods in Rafael’s direction, “is my brother.  You’ll still get to see Joan all of the time, and you can still be best friends.  You just won’t live together anymore.”

“I don’t understand why she doesn’t want to be sisters,” the blonde says, stamping her foot.  “Everything’d be perfect if she did.”

Luisa kneels down then and looks straight into the blonde’s blue eyes, where she’s starting to tear up.  “I’m going to tell you a secret, okay?  But you can’t tell anybody.”

The blonde sniffled and nodded.

“I think Joan likes you, and I think she doesn’t want to be sisters because liking her sister would be weird.”

“Liking your cousin is weird, too.”

“That’s…true,” Luisa hesitates because she hadn’t thought that far ahead, “but it’s not as weird as liking your sister.”  Maybe she needed to get Petra involved.  For all she’d seen of this girl so far, she could fit in with Petra’s family really well.

“I guess.”  The blonde sniffles again.  Then she bites her lower lip.  “You think Joan…likes me?”

Luisa nods.  “But you can’t say anything, okay?  And you can’t be mean to her about it.”

“Why would I be mean to her about it?  I like her, too.  That’s why I’m so nice to her all the time when she’s just mean.”  The blonde shuffles her feet together, and her gaze moves over to where Joan is looking for her cat.  “She’s not just mean.  She’s really nice.  She’s just quiet.  And people are scared of her cat.”

“I’m not scared of her cat.  And you’re not scared of her cat.”

The blonde nods.  “I think I’ll go help her.  You’re going to talk to your brother about me, right?”

Luisa reaches down and pats the blonde’s hair.  She’d ruffle it, if it wasn’t in pigtails, but she knows better than to try and ruffle those.  It would just make her hair look bad, and she doesn’t want to do that at all.  Not when she’s hoping that she’ll have a good impression on Rafael.

The girl scowls a bit at the head-patting, then she goes off to meet Joan while Luisa goes to meet her brother.