Fear Thy Neighbor (35)
Ali and Valentina laughed.
“I bet you could eat a pie every day, and you’d look just as perfect as you do now,” Ali offered, and believed it to be true. The young girl was totally unaware of how stunning she’d appeared when Ali first saw her on the beach, with her long, shapely legs, a tiny waist, and sandy blonde hair that most girls would envy. Ali couldn’t imagine Renée having any worries about her looks. Though she knew girls could be so cruel to one another, and there was always a chance of young girls suffering from unrealistic versions of how much they should weigh. She remembered a girl from eighth grade who’d suffered from anorexia. She’d been so thin, malnourished to the point where she’d had to leave school. Ali wondered whatever happened to the girl, as she’d never returned to school. She hoped Renée didn’t have a negative body image that got out of control.
“I know I’m not overweight, it’s just a thing Mom and I fuss over sometimes. She knows I’ll probably eat half of the pie, too.” Renée grinned.
“Now that’s settled, Alison—Ali—would you like a slice of pie? Maybe a cup of coffee or tea?”
“I would love a slice of pie, and coffee, but you have to allow me to help out,” she said, following Valentina to the kitchen with her plate and flatware.
“Thanks, but another time. Today you’re a guest, tomorrow you’re a neighbor and friend. Enjoy this while it lasts,” she teased.
“Yep, first time over, Mom treats guests like royalty. After that, you’re part of the family, then you have to help out,” Renée said.
“Okay,” Ali said as she cleared the rest of the dishes from the table, bringing them inside. Renée trailed behind her with her own plate.
“Really, Mom likes to play hostess sometimes. I think selling souvenirs and telling fortunes gets boring. Right, Mom?” Renée asked while rinsing her plate, then adding it to the dishwasher.
“Yes, I suppose so, but I enjoy it most of the time. Now, get the dessert plates, and I’ll bring the pie.”
“Yes ma’am!” Renée saluted her mother.
“Teenagers,” she said. “Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.”
“Like men,” Ali said, then realized she probably shouldn’t have said that.
“Exactly,” Valentina agreed. “Most of them are asses. If not, they’re either gay or married.” She took the pie from the refrigerator, and Ali followed her out to the deck.
“Yes, most of them are jerks. Maybe there a few good ones out there, but who has the time to search? I’ve been on a couple of dates that turned into nightmares, but I’ll save that story for another time.” Ali didn’t want to discuss her horrid dates in front of Renée.
“Come on, I love dating disasters,” Renée encouraged her. “Right, Mom?”
Valentina sighed. “Yes, you’ve watched too many episodes of that Bachelor show. Real life isn’t quite the same. Besides, Alison’s personal business is none of ours.”
Valentina sliced the pie, each portion enough for two. She placed the matching dessert plate in front of Ali. “This looks delicious. I can’t remember the last time I had pie.” She did remember wishing for pie when she was a little girl. More than once, the Sterling family would have dessert in front of her and her foster brothers, but never offered them any. At the time, she thought pies and cakes were only for grown-ups. After her episode with the family tree assignment, she’d realized Craig and Martha Sterling were not an example of normal parents.
“Ali, are you okay?” Valentina asked, her voice laced with concern.
“I’m sorry, I was lost in my thoughts,” she explained, forcing the images of the Sterlings from her brain.
“So, what were they?” Renée asked as she dug into her pie.
“Renée! Stop being so nosy.”
“It’s okay. Honestly, I was thinking about my foster parents.”
“Oh wow, were they mean?” Renée asked, not caring that her mother had just scolded her for asking too many personal questions.
Ali cleared her throat. “That is a loaded question.” Unsure how or if she should answer, she explained, “Some were, and others had financial motives.”
“Well, crap, how many foster parents do you have?”
“Renée, that’s enough! Ali’s past is none of our business. Your nosiness is going to get you in trouble soon,” Valentina admonished.
“It’s fine, really. I don’t mind telling my story,” she said, knowing she wasn’t being completely honest.
“So what happened? Did they like lock you in the basement, or did they try to starve you?”
Ali couldn’t help but laugh. “No, I never starved, though I did stay in a basement once when I was being punished. Caring for children, whether they’re your own flesh and blood or a foster child, is the ultimate responsibility. Folks who start out with good intentions often find kids from broken homes, or those who’ve had dealings with law enforcement, are too much for them to handle, yet they’re afraid to admit this. To themselves and those in authority who place the children in their care, it puts them in a bad light, so they continue to take in kids who find themselves in situations where the parent can’t care for them. They collect money from a government agency, and often the kids suffer because the foster parents don’t want to give up the money.”