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“She okay?” he questioned, worry furrowing his brow.
“With me as a foster mom, probably not.” Her throat burned and she could feel herself pulling in tighter. She wanted Bugs back for so many reasons, the least of which was to let him take over as the top and drown out the voices and allowing herself the right to fall into the singular sense of touch.
“I have no doubt she is fine,” he said. “I’ll be back in a minute after I make sure you’re up to date with your tetanus.”
A few torturous hours or more than likely minutes later the room filled with Lil’ Mama, Roadkill and Nightingale.
“Is my leg being cut off?” she questioned the two nurses and clinic biller, the trembling near seizure levels at this point. “Or did Red call in reinforcements to hold me down for the tetanus. I swear, I won’t hit or bite him like I did with the flu shot.”
“Not even slightly,” Lil’ Mama said as she came and took Porsche’s hand in hers. “The mama patrol was called in to kick your ass if you keep talking shit about your mamaing.”
“Damn right we are,” Nightingale chimed in, the rush of emotions flooding Porsche’s body as the group of mothers took her under their wing and talked her through everything
she’d ever imagined was a slight.
One week and she was ready to throw in the towel only to hear she wasn’t alone. They told of ways to find the positive, search out the moments and know it was different for them than her. They got that, but it didn’t mean it was easier by a long shot. Once her knee was cleaned, stitched and bandaged she made her way up to the waiting room where Lil’ Bit waited with Beno since Baldy was getting the physical and acupuncture therapy in the other office. By the time all the mama’s were done with her and Syd came out her cup had been refilled and she was ready to be who and what Sydney needed.
