Swirling Signs
Illusion or imagination…?
The clamor of dishes and distant voices roused me from a fitful slumber.
It was dark due to the lack of windows, with only a single round one across the attic on the far side of the room that was much too small to do more than offer a sliver of illumination.
However, I didn’t need light to feel the disheveled sheets twisted up in my legs.
With only the slight whir of the ceiling fan above my head to greet me, I stretched across the mattress with the pillow pulled tight against my chest, fighting to drag air into my lungs and breathe without losing my shit.
Part of me had wanted to scream and rage at the unfair mess my life had become.
I fought the urge to flee the house and this new foster family I hadn’t asked for.
But there was nowhere to run. No home. No Noma to soothe the ache in my heart.
Fuck.
Someone must have opened my door because I could hear people talking downstairs.
Multiple voices, probably the other foster kids, Dale, and a woman’s voice.
They were fucking loud. I grumbled as I tugged on the pillow, trying to drown out the clatter of utensils, plates, and people laughing.
This wasn’t a happy day. It was a tragedy. A day of death and mourning.
Of loss.
Jesus. How the hell was I going to get through this?
After fifteen minutes, I knew the noise would continue, so there was no point in trying to fall back to sleep.
My stomach rumbled as I caught the smell of bacon, freshly baked bread, and coffee.
Smells that immediately made me think of Noma.
Remembering the last time I ate, I sighed.
Maybe I could get something fast and bring it up here, avoiding all the chatter and chaos.
Since I had never undressed, there wasn’t much to do except slip back on my shoes.
Even with my sweatshirt on, I still felt cold and empty, and it wasn’t because of my gnawing belly.
Taking the stairs as quietly as possible to avoid interaction, I finally reached the bottom floor.
It wasn’t hard to find the dining room since that’s where everyone seemed to gather.
When I walked inside, I blinked at the giant dining room table that took up the whole right side of the spacious room.
Unlike the tiny table Noma and I shared in the kitchen, this one seated twelve.
I counted five chairs on each side and one on each end.
Unlike the space that only Noma and I shared, almost every seat was occupied.
Nearly all boys. I only spotted one girl, younger than me, probably around sixth or seventh grade.
She had her nose stuck in a book as she scooped eggs into her mouth.
I didn’t say a word as I sat in one of the vacant chairs, my gaze sliding over the polished dark wood. Clean, the surface smelled faintly of lemons. Noma…
I heard the clearing of a throat, and then Dale greeted me.
“Good morning, Johnny. Glad you could join us.” He grinned too widely as I faced him, but it seemed sincere.
His hand lifted as he gestured to the other end of the table.
“This is Harmony, my wife. One of the best cooks in the whole state of California.” He winked at her as she shook her head, clearly finding him amusing.
Harmony rose from her chair, telling him, “You flirt.” With blonde hair slowly graying and warm brown eyes, she looked nothing like my Noma, but something stirred in my chest as she gave me a soft smile.
“I’m so glad you’re with us, Johnny.” Collecting something from a large cabinet, she said, “I made biscuits, sausage, gravy, scrambled eggs, and bacon, and there’s fresh fruit.
Help yourself. Really. Nothing lasts long around here,” she joked.
The table had gone silent, and I felt my cheeks grow hot, since I was in the spotlight.
Standing behind me, Harmony set a plate and utensils down in front of me, then reached for a bottle of orange juice. “Would you like juice or milk?”
“Juice is fine,” I answered, sneaking a glance around the table.
The girl beside me was still reading her book, hardly interested.
All the boys were watching me while eating, already having the advantage since they knew one another.
I hated being the new kid. It happened when I first moved to Cali, and now it was happening again.
Right before high school, when I had to start a new school on top of everything else.
One of the boys, a skinny kid with a head full of thick, dark red hair and a handful of freckles across his nose, spoke to me first. “The food is good here. Not like…” He paused and didn’t finish.
He didn’t have to, though. I got it. “Good to know.”
None of the others spoke, sizing me up. Figuring out if I was a brawler, or a wise-ass, or too shy to speak.
We all had to be close in age, within the same years in school.
I’d guess eighth to ninth grade. None of us had quite grown into men, yet we were on the cusp.
In another couple of years, we’d finish that transformation.
At least, that was what my Noma had said on multiple occasions.
Maybe that was bullshit, but I preferred to think my Noma had way more knowledge of this world than I could ever fathom. Her death didn’t change that.
My stomach overriding my broken heart, I made a plate, heaping gravy on the biscuits, bacon, and sausage, but I skipped the eggs. No one can make scrambled eggs like Noma.
Before I could take one bite, I was suddenly gulping down my juice. Thirst so intense, I felt some of it trickle down my chin before I wiped across my mouth with the back of my hand. Setting the empty glass back down, I observed everyone staring again. “It was a long night.”
I received lots of nods and stares that seemed to have many getting lost in thought. Maybe they were also remembering their first nights in this house and the circumstances that brought them here.
The food was so good that I ate every bite, trying my damnedest to hold myself together. Not that the reprieve lasted. It was impossible, when remembering I was about to bury the only person in this world who loved or gave two shits about me.
Just as I was finishing my second glass of orange juice, the redhead across from me started talking to Dale. “We’re headed to the park this afternoon, right? I wanna work on my throwing so I can get dialed in.”
I didn’t know much about sports, but suddenly wanted to. Maybe if I could go with them to the park, I could avoid the horrid day ahead of me.
“Not today.” His glance my way warned of Dale’s reason. “I need to take Johnny to the cemetery.”
All talking stopped so fast that I frowned.
My gaze locked with the boy across from me.
For the first time, I noticed all the scars on his face, neck, and arms. One bisected his brow, and another left a puffy raised line across his jaw.
He was covered in marks, old wounds that had long since healed but left their permanent carving into his skin.
His lip lifted in a snarl. “What?”
I held up my hand, showing the deep grooves in the skin, my own scars, and the missing part of my finger. “I get stared at too.”
He blinked, like he didn’t expect that, and snorted. “Fucking sucks.”
“Language, Gage,” Harmony reminded him.
“Freaking sucks,” he amended with an eye roll.
I almost smiled until I again remembered the funeral. My shoulders fought the urge to cave in, my entire body feeling suddenly heavy with the reminder that I would be saying goodbye to my grandma as she was buried in the wrong cemetery. My hand dropped below the table, curling against my thigh.
“I’m going,” the redhead announced, surprising everyone at the table for some reason.
Dale’s brows lifted. “To the cemetery?”
“Yeah.” He turned to me. “That okay, Johnny?”
I was almost relieved about the idea of not facing this funeral with only adults who couldn’t possibly miss Noma more than me.
None of her friends from her past life as a nurse would be able to attend.
It wasn’t right. The thought that no one would be there at all nearly stole the breath from my lungs.
Suddenly, I didn’t want to go alone. “Sure.”
“Anyone else besides Johnny and Finn?”
“I’ll go,” Gage answered.
“M-me t-t-too.” This came from the guy with dark blond hair who hadn’t yet spoken.
“Same.”
“All five of us,” the final boy answered.
Five guys I’d never met before today, and yet they each met my curious gaze with a nod or chin lift of encouragement, offering a solidarity I could barely grasp. “You don’t know me.”
“Been there,” one of the others said. The one who mentioned all five of the guys coming to the cemetery today. His dark, wavy hair was long, falling over one vivid blue eye. “Parent or grandparent?”
“My grandma.”
“Raised you?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded. “I’m Ethan. This is Sebastian.” He thumbed at the guy who stuttered.
“S-S-Seb,” Sebastian corrected, stuttering as he answered.
“Caleb’s the quiet one,” Gage informed me, introducing the last person I had yet to meet.
Caleb shifted in his seat. “Lost my grandma four months ago. She was all I fucking had.”
No one corrected his language, not even Harmony.
“My Noma was the same.” Fuck. That hurt like hell to say.
“Then it’s settled,” Dale announced. “We’re all going.”
The girl beside me finally looked up, piercing me with eyes so pale they almost seemed like contact lenses. “If you need me to hold your hand, just tell me. I didn’t have anyone around to hold mine.”
My chest felt tight with her confession. I barely voiced, “Okay.”
Harmony sniffled as I turned my attention her way.
“Sorry. Don’t mind me. I hate the reminders you’ve all been through so much.
” She dashed her fingers under her eyes to wipe at the tears that had yet to fall and stood.
“I’m going to bake chocolate chip cookies today.
We need a little warmth and sweetness in the air. ”