Tears and Dirt #2
In the freezer were more prepared meals.
I couldn’t follow her instructions. I couldn’t toss out one item.
Especially those meatballs and sauce. Instead, wiping tears, I shoved every frozen meal into a duffel bag, hoping there was a freezer where I was headed since the electricity was going to be turned off soon.
The last painful chore was turning off the water. In the kitchen, all dirty dishes washed and put away, I was barely able to breathe. In the sink, dancing stars blessed my hands, my skin, my soul. I prayed they would find me wherever I ended up.
By some divine intervention, or maybe a nudge from fate, no one came as I finished closing down the house.
Once done, I hoped I would someday return to this home and tall tree.
I would dig up the bag of money and collect the other hidden baggies.
Then, I would take my Noma back to the East Coast so I could bury her with my grandpa.
I swore to myself, if alive, that I would keep this promise no matter what happened.
By the time the social worker arrived, the sun was setting. Bags packed, I was sitting on the front steps, and waiting for her arrival with more than a little attitude.
Once she parked and opened her door, I stood. “You’re late.”
My Noma would have whooped my ass for greeting an adult like that, but I didn’t care. I sat for two hours. Too long with my thoughts and tears. Far too long to avoid being back to stewing in anger over my circumstances.
Still at her open car door, she rested her arms on the roof. “Hi, you must be Johnny.”
Well, duh. I was the only one here. I nodded.
“I’m Kristen. I apologize for the delay. I had an urgent case and had to retrieve a child from an unsafe environment.”
I wanted to scoff, but I couldn’t. Seemed like a reasonable excuse. “Okay.”
She tilted her head, studying me. “I don’t blame you for being angry.”
Right.
She stepped back, shut her door, then walked around the car to face me while leaning on it. “You’ve been dealt a shit hand.”
I didn’t expect my social worker to care about me, just to do her job. And to cuss? That was a welcome surprise.
She added, “I’ve done what I could to give you the best resource home possible.”
In warning, I slowly shook my head. “I don’t have her. That means I have no home.”
She dipped her chin. “Understood. How about… resource placement?”
Appreciating her efforts, I delivered a curt nod.
She texted something on her cellphone before sliding it into a front pocket of her dark blue slacks. “You’re going with good resource paren—”
She was going to say parents but caught my upper lip curling in disgust. These new ‘caregivers’ were strangers. Not parents of mine, of any sort.
Eyeing me, she redirected, “Resource people.” When my lip relaxed in approval, she said, “I had to pull some strings to get you in, but I think you’ll be happy there.”
I simply couldn’t find a nice thing to say. “No offense, but that sounds like bullshit.”
She laughed, leaving the car behind and walking over and sitting beside me on the steps. “Yeah, sometimes it is. In your case, it’s not.”
Not wanting to trust her, and needing reasons not to, I took in her appearance, searching for horns or a split devil tongue. Instead, I saw blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. A white sweater. Makeup, but nothing heavy. She looked fresh out of college. How would she have a clue what I needed?
Only one person knew what was best for me. “You talked to my Noma,” I guessed.
“I did.”
Silence lingered. I couldn’t respond. My throat was restricted with emotions. Did this young woman know what kind of woman Noma was? That she was the best person in the world?
Was.
Still not convinced the young woman could help me, I gritted, “Why did you do what she wanted?”
“It’s a bit unconventional, but,” she paused and cleared her throat, “I couldn’t deny her request.” She actually grinned in thought. “She is, uh, a very determined woman.”
Forcing down a swallow, I looked away.
Kristen softly told me, “It’s okay to be scared.”
I looked back. And glared again. This time, fire shooting from my terrified eyes. With a locked jaw, I explained, “Just because this is your job doesn’t mean you have a clue how it feels on the other side.”
Nodding, she fidgeted, smoothing her palms over her knees “That’s just it. I’ve been through something similar.”
Even though I found an ounce of empathy, I still smarted off, “Losing someone you love and being forced into foster care?”
“Yeah.” Not offering more, she tilted her head back and let the final sun’s rays spread over her skin.
For real. I wanted her to elaborate. I wanted to know if all this was survivable. I wanted to know if her life had been anything like mine. I wanted to know what the fuck was coming next.
I looked to the tree, terrified to dare hope. Found.
She must’ve misread my uneasiness because she simply offered, “We can stay as long as you need.”
“Not going to indulge my last question?”
“Some stories don’t need to be retold.”
Stories… Books…
That made me think of a special librarian I’d never see again. And the house was only reminding me of that pitiful fact. “I’m ready.”
Kristen’s head snapped up in surprise. “You sure?”
“Yep.”
I couldn’t quite read her expression, but it definitely held some sadness before she became a social worker again. “Umm… Door locked?”
“I’m not an idiot.” I handed her a set of keys, not mentioning they were fake.
She glanced at the backpack, duffle bag, and single suitcase I had with me. Nothing else. “That’s all you’ve got? There’s nothing else you want to take with you?”
Maybe it was odd, but I felt I was going on the run again. Old fears were returning. Running with too much luggage didn’t seem wise, so I left many things behind, as Noma had me do five years ago. So, with my knife and knuckles hidden, I shook my head. “No.”
The rest of the things in this house? Only reminders of my Noma. Superficial items I didn’t need. I only wanted. But life wasn’t being fair or giving me what I wanted. You took the frozen meals, I thought. It’s something of her. A little trinket to get through the next few days or weeks.
The rest of the money would wait until the right time. Noma’s plan B. I knew where to find it.
“All right.” She groaned, lifting the duffel bag. “What is in here? Bricks?”
Preferring Noma’s cooking not being referred to as bricks, I handed her the lighter suitcase and took the duffle from her. “Is the lawyer going to call me?” Then slung the backpack over my shoulder.
“He’s doing exactly what your Noma asked in her will, already paid to do the job.”
I knew that, but I wanted to be sure this social worker didn’t have any plans to enter this house. “So, you’re not coming back here?”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
Good.
After loading my belongings in the trunk, I stood there, staring at the house, clutching my backpack, my feet unable to move.
I begged myself to understand, she’s no longer there, but I felt as if I was leaving Noma.
Abandoning her memory. She had just been within those little pink walls.
Her smile had blessed every corner of the house that had shielded us from the rest of the world.
Blowing out air past trembling lips, I peered up the tree, and to the clouds above us. Watch over her, Grandpa. Then I barked, “I said I’m ready.”
Kristen had been so respectful. It was as if she knew I needed that moment and hoped I would take it. Not that she voiced it. Kristen gestured to the front passenger seat. “Hop in. I’ll take you to your new,” she paused briefly, “place.”
Place. Not home.
My home was dead.
I got in the front seat, placing my backpack in my lap. Having my knife and knuckles close to me seemed to be the only comfort I could find. And I needed it. The little car’s engine igniting punched me in the gut. This was happening. I was officially homeless and utterly alone.
Staring at the little home under the trees fade from sight, I ignored the vicious death claws trying to rip apart my composure, anger replacing the sorrow and grief because it was easier.
No, I wasn’t rude to Kristen a third time, but I did stay quiet, stewing in my need for justice, vengeance, and to reap hell on my enemies.
Someday, I would spill blood for the blood I lost. An eye for an eye.
The first part of the drive took nearly thirty minutes, bringing me to the next town over from where I stayed with Noma.
No longer as far up in the mountains, I still saw the Cali redwoods that had become a welcome and familiar sight.
I knew it wouldn’t take long to get my bearings if this were to be the area where I’d be staying.
I wasn’t sure because Kristen wasn’t talking much.
She just groaned every time she read a text, then she made a call.
“Hey, I’m headed there now, but sounds like I might need assistance… ”
Once off the phone, she grimaced at me. “Sorry, this next stop shouldn’t be done with you in the car, but—well, if a kid needs me, I have to drop everything and get to them.”
For real, that earned her some mad respect. “No problem.”
She gently warned, “Especially if you stay in the car. Got it?”
If you only knew how well I understand dangerous situations. “Got it.”
The car picked up speed, and layered silence hung between us. It was almost as if not only the engine was revving, but Kristen’s energy was building as if prepping for a fight.
And she was.
With the car locked and parked in front of a mid-sized home, I watched out the passenger window as police arrived, and a man was escorted away.
I don’t know what happened inside, and was never told, but there was lots of yelling and a little girl crying.
I couldn’t help but feel grateful I was bigger and stronger than her.
What it must have been like to be even more vulnerable than I already was.
That little girl needed someone to look after her.
Be the iron fist she lacked the strength to muster.