A Forgotten Tomorrow (4 page)

Jonah decides to let me eat alone in his office, before he will once again start badgering me about my past. I haven’t figured out if talking about it is a good thing or a bad thing. So many memories are ones I’d rather keep hidden, because I don’t want to feel that pain all over again.

The walls aren’t welcoming, seeming even colder than before. My anxiety is already building, causing my skin to crawl. Part of me wants to run out of here. Who’s to say he will help me? Besides, no one in my entire lifetime has cared about what happens to me; how is this going to be
different? Initially someone may seem to be devoted to helping kids, or helping anyone in general for that matter. But when it gets too tough, they walk away and never look back – in my experience anyway.

By the time Jonah walks in to his office I am on my last piece of chicken. I ate more food today than I have in a long time, which has caused me to feel a bit nauseous. Actually, I’m not sure whether it’s the large amount of food that’s made me feel sick, or the thought of having to relive the memories.

He sits behind his desk paging through a spiral bound notebook, finally stopping once he reaches a blank page.

“I’m so glad you decided to come see me again Savannah,” he smiles. “I was hoping you would.”

I adjust myself in the chair, slumping down even more.

“Thanks for the chicken.”

“The chicken is one of my favorite choices that they have here. Of course, if you eat it every day it gets boring fast,” he laughs.

I didn’t laugh, nor smile. I don’t care if he likes the chicken. What’s the point in small talk? Just get to it, so I can get out of here. Or at least tell me what you think you can do for me. What’s the use in dragging it out?

“So I’d like to hear a little more about you, Savannah. Your past, and how you ended up out here,” he finally says. “I have a couple hours, so maybe we can finish this up today, so tomorrow I can try to find you a place somewhere. If you’d like.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I respond.

“The truth about you.”

“I don’t know, man – I mean it’s nothin’ great, and I don’t know what you are gonna do for me,” I say.

“Well even if you decide you don’t want my help, it’s good to talk. But I want to help you.”

Is he a joke? I guess I can’t say much, because I am sitting in this office. I didn’t have to come. Maybe a part of me believes that he can help me, but another part of me tells me to run away fast. That’s all I ever do, though. Maybe it’s time for me to change a little. I don’t know.

I’m not sure where I left off the last time I was here. I get mixed up often, and my mind has been playing tricks on me lately. I think I was talking about nasty Johnny, and leaving my mama’s house.

Once I left Mama I was immediately placed at Cedar Farm’s Home for Girls. Obviously it was new to me and I was scared to death. I did miss my mama, but the relief at not having to face more abuse from Johnny somehow made up for that. I
didn’t know what to expect either or how I would get along with everyone, because I’d never been liked by anyone.

Cedar Farm is about five hours from the city, in the middle of nowhere. The building looked more like a log home, and didn’t seem big enough for the fifteen girls it housed. It was surrounded by trees, on a large amount of land. I don’t know how much, but the yard never seemed to end, no matter how deep into the woods you travelled. The immediate backyard was a playground, with swings and a hamster wheel – which was my favorite. It also had a separate building which was used as a school for us girls.

The range of ages varied, from seven years old to twelve. Their hope at the farm was to have everyone adopted, so we wouldn’t have to be placed at another home, a foster home, when we reached thirteen. The idea wasn’t bad, but in my entire time there I only saw one girl get taken in by a family.

The workers there weren’t the greatest either. It seemed to be a task for them to work with us, as if they just wanted to go home to be with their families. That’s how I felt anyways.

Once I got there I was looked at as the outcast immediately. No one wanted to be my friend. They all stayed in their groups and laughed at me, joking about how no one wanted me. That comment stuck with me every day, even though I didn’t understand how they could say such a thing, because they were at the same place I was. But at nine years old those comments can really dig deep and stay there for good.

We had daily chores, which weren’t so bad I guess. We were assigned to different jobs every week, like cleaning the main bathroom or our living quarters. Somehow, I ended up doing most of it, being bullied by Endya who beat me up quite a few times.

Endya was a very big ten year old who had a horrible attitude. She ran the
place, managing to keep everyone else as her friend. She would order the other girls around and told them to stay away from me. Why? Because I was ugly. I don’t remember how that came about, but it was like that until she left.

In comparison with all the other kids I wasn’t so different, so I don’t know why I was the one being called ugly – they didn’t look all that pleasant either. Granted, at first I did have mismatched clothing and was the smallest of the group, with long scrawny legs that peeked out through the bottom of my pants. Eventually the staff bought me some new clothing, so I didn’t look that bad anymore.

I would say my time there was mostly horrible, but only because of Endya. Right when I woke up she would start with me, laughing and pointing, and forcing me to do her work – if I didn’t, she would beat me up.

Sometimes at lunch she would knock my plate out of my hands. I would stand
there utterly embarrassed as the food went crashing to the floor. Often tears filled my eyes, but I would force them back – if only to avoid even more laughter from all the girls who were staring at me.

My memories tend to run together, but from the time I spent at the Farm, one major event stands out. Of course, it had to do with Endya.

It was around lunch time when it happened. It’s hard to remember what day it was, but I know it was on a weekend, because I was outside cleaning up the leaves on the playground. I was minding my own business when Endya came around, knocking over the leaves that I had neatly pushed into a pile. I stood there with the rake in my hand, avoiding eye contact. I learned fast that if you don’t make eye contact, they will more than likely go away or leave you alone.

Anyway, after she knocked over the leaves I’d just raked, she stood there staring at me with an almost evil grin on her face.

“Hey, chicken legs.”

I didn’t respond. I stood there gazing at nothing really, my eyes to the ground.

“Did you hear me talking to you? You better listen to me before I knock your teeth out!”

I finally got the nerve to look at her, but only briefly. “What’s up, Endya?” I said, trying not to sound irritated.

“Oh nothin’, just seeing what you were doing.”

I knew something was up because she would never, ever talk to me if she wasn’t planning something.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” I said, before I could shove the words back into my mouth. That was the wrong thing to say. She was in front of my face within a couple of seconds.

“You better not be getting smart with me, you bastard.” She grabbed my shirt, pulling my face right against hers. “Because you know I will hurt you,” she continued. A cocky grin stayed on her face. I knew it pleased her to get a rise out of me, so I tried to remain calm.

“I’m sorry Endya. I’m just tired of these leaves, not sure why I have to be the one to rake them every weekend,” I said, hoping to calm the air. “What’s up?”

“Oh nothin’ really, I just wanted to show you something really cool I found in the woods,” she said. “I didn’t know that anyone else lived around here, but I found a house down the way yesterday.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep. I saw a coupla kids playing in the backyard with some frogs, too – just wanted to show ya.”

“Frogs?”

“I think they are their pets, they’re awesome-looking!”

“How’d you see them? We can’t go in their house or anything.”

“Nah. They are outside. Wanna look?”

“I dunno, it’s almost lunch. We’ll get in trouble.”

“No we won’t, they won’t even notice. And besides, you don’t have a choice. I will beat the shit outta you.”

I stood there for a moment, not knowing what to do. What was she gonna do with those frogs? And why even go see them at all? I was sure she could find her own frogs if we took a trip to the stream nearby. But no matter how badly I didn’t want to go – I didn’t have a choice.

We walked for a while. It felt like forever to me, because I had a bad feeling about the whole thing. She pulled me the entire way.
She held my arm with one hand, and in the other there was a giant screwdriver. That was why I knew something was weird. I didn’t want to get into trouble, but obviously she didn’t care.

The tiny cottage was built out of bricks, and it looked a hundred years old. If it wasn’t for a swing set in the backyard and smoke escaping the mouth of the chimney, I would’ve sworn it was abandoned. The grass was a tiny bit overgrown too, giving the entire property an eerie feeling.

Endya ducked down quickly once we approached the chain-linked fence. It’s not like anyone couldn’t see us, with the gaping holes in it – maybe she thought she was invisible. Anyway, I stood next to a tree and watched her from afar, until she ran up to me and grabbed my arm, pulling me to the fence.

“What are you doing? You gotta help me,” she said.

“What are ya trying to do?” I asked, slightly scared of what her response might be.

“I told you, we’re gonna get the damn frogs!”

“Get them?”

“Yes, you idiot!”

“I don’t think—”

“You don’t think what?” she interrupted. “You are gonna climb over and open the door with this screwdriver.”

“Me? Why me? Why don’t you do it?”

She grabbed my shirt again and threw me up against the fence, hard. “You are getting them,” she said, “and don’t worry, they aren’t home, I already checked.”

My stomach hurt badly and my nerves were shot. I didn’t want to go to jail for
stealing some stupid frogs; I’d watched enough television to know what jail looked like – and it wasn’t for me. I was scared, but what was I to do? Endya held her fists up to me as a warning, and I didn’t doubt that she would hit me.

To cut a long story short, I stole two frogs from their shed in the backyard. With some effort and ten minutes or so of panic I managed to take the screws from the wooden door of the shed.

I probably should have checked the door first before taking it off, though. There was no need for the entire door to fall to the ground, because it was already unlocked. I could have saved a lot of time by just opening the door and grabbing the frogs, but I had to do what Endya told me.

The entire time she stood on the other side of the fence threatening me with her fists and intimidating gaze. I don’t know why I was such a coward when it came to her. Maybe I wanted her to like me, and
I thought that if I did what she said, she would stop bullying me so much. Whatever the reason was, she scared me.

We walked back to Cedar Farm with a frog in each of our hands, but we didn’t get too far before we were caught. Whoever lived at the cottage had followed us halfway back home. We heard someone angrily yelling at us to get our attention, but we ignored it and kept on walking.

I’m sure they knew where we were going, seeing as we were young girls and no one else lived in the area. With that said, we were in trouble right away when we walked into the lunchroom.

When we walked through the doors my stomach dropped. One of the lead counsellors and an older-looking woman I’d never seen before were standing together talking. Michelle, our counsellor, looked upset and stopped in mid-sentence once she saw Endya and me.

I was blamed for the entire affair. Endya cried to Michelle, saying that I forced her, when really it was the other way around. She was such a liar. I’m not sure how she got away with everything she did, but she surely did – always.

The older woman didn’t press charges for us stealing her grandchildren’s frogs, but told Michelle that if anything like that ever happened again, she would go to the authorities. I didn’t think frogs were a reason to go to jail, but at that age I wasn’t sure how everything worked. Instead of jail time, I had a load of chores to do that entire month, without any play time.

I stayed at the Farm for three more years after that day. Nothing changed, even when Endya left to go to a foster home. I was still bullied and laughed at, and had no friends. Almost every night I cried myself to sleep. I didn’t understand why I was so hated or disliked.

After all, I didn’t do anything to make people hate me. I would have done anything
to have someone love me – but that wasn’t in my cards, I guess.

Jonah sits at his desk eagerly awaiting more of my story. I feel like I’ve told him enough. I don’t see how any more of this crap is going to make him decide on whether or not to help me. Didn’t he already say he would? Then why all of this torture?

Next thing I know he’s going to get out that stupid board game on his desk. It’s a dumb game that is supposed to make someone want to talk. I think we are way past that point, but maybe not. I keep seeing his eyes lock onto the cardboard box it’s in. There is no way I am playing that. He’s out of his mind.

Only forty-five minutes have passed since I started talking to him, rambling on about my messed up life. But really that’s it.

“That can’t be it, Savannah,” he starts again. “Where did you go from Cedar Farm? How did you end up out here?”

This feeling of annoyance and aggravation is beginning to brew within. I feel like I should leave now, but something inside me must want to talk, because I stay.

Where did I go after leaving the Farm? It closely compares to this hell-hole I call the street. It’s too bad that I had to live there for three years before realising how badly I needed to get away and be on my own. After all, I wasn’t really being taken care of – so why not take care of myself? That’s how I saw it anyway. Still, to this day I’m glad I left.

Miss Peters was a recently widowed, angry soul. For whatever reason, she never managed to birth her own children, which probably explained her bitter attitude towards me. Her hair was graying, but other than that she looked reasonably young. I’d guess that she was probably in her forties. Anyway, I was her first foster child.

I didn’t know then, but the state paid for her to keep me. It wasn’t a large amount of money, but enough for her to gobble it up, leaving nothing left for my care. I’m sure there are people out there who genuinely want to help those forgotten children, but there’s also a fair few who are only in it for the money. Miss Peters was one of those people, even though she was already rich. So why was she worried about a measly grand?

When she and I first met, I thought it was going to be great, being the first time someone would actually care about me. In front of my social worker she was as nice as could be, very caring and lovable towards me – like nothing else mattered to her in the world.

She walked me up to my new bedroom, filled with toys of all sorts. There were Barbies, stuffed animals and a gigantic dollhouse. I tried to hold it in, but I cried tears of joy. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Without thinking, I hugged Miss Peters tightly, very tightly – my social worker had to peel me away. But Miss Peters didn’t seem to mind my hug then, with her smiling face and glistening eyes. To me, she was beautiful. My new mom.

For the first time in my life, I was happy. That happiness blinded me too, causing me to ignore all of the signs that easily revealed that things were about to change. Within two weeks Miss Peters was a different woman, and not for the better. It was an abrupt, odd transformation. Maybe initially she was trying to appear friendly, so that the state would allow her to be a foster parent – so that she could get a monthly paycheck. Who knows?

Overall I guess her behavior wasn’t too cruel, she just became completely
withdrawn – from me and everyone else in her life. Maybe she should’ve let me go somewhere else, but she didn’t. She kept me there, feeding on her misery. As time went on, instead of getting better, she spiraled downhill.

While I lived there, it was hard for me to tell if she was naturally miserable or just temporarily depressed. But now I really believe she was born a selfish and mean human being. How she acted towards me only revealed that truth. I don’t know how any man could have put up with her.

Jonah is still staring at me with that same stupid look on his face.

My skin begins to crawl. I feel like I’m getting off track, but I can’t help it. My mind is racing, making it difficult to gather any thoughts, and my anxiety has kicked in. I’m ready to leave this cold office and never return.

My hands are shaking, sweat is seeping through my pores and I feel like I’m about to lose it. Why is he still staring at me like that? Can’t he tell I’m having a panic attack? He probably wouldn’t care if I dropped dead right now. One less kid on the street, huh? One less junkie to worry about. That’s not me.

I can’t hold it back anymore…

“Why all these damn questions?” I yell. “You have been sitting in the same position this entire time, looking at me with that pathetic look on your face!” I try to calm down, but I can’t. I can’t breathe, my heart is racing and I am angry – angrier than I’ve been in a long time.

“Calm down, Savannah,” Jonah says to me quietly. “It’s going to be okay, I can help you if you let me.”

“You can help me? How the hell are you gonna help me? You don’t even know me!”

“I’m trying to get to know you, so I will know the right way to help.”

“Bullshit. You want to laugh at me, point at me, use me as an example for all those broads on the street,” I yell even louder. “I’m not them! And it’s not my damn fault that this is how I ended up, either!”

“No one is blaming you.”

I breathe heavily as I pace the room. I see people staring through the glass windows, and I stare back, throwing them a finger that no one would appreciate.

“Calm down,” he continues. “You don’t have to tell me any more if you don’t want to right now, okay?” He closes the blinds on the windows, hoping to distract my vision from those who were staring.

“I gotta go,” I say, placing my hand on the doorknob. “You wanna know what happened with Miss Peters?” I ask angrily as I swing open his door, almost knocking it off the hinges.

“Only if you want to tell me. Please, sit back down.”

“All I gotta say is that no one – and I mean
no one
– can handle someone telling you all the time that you are a stupid, unwanted and pathetic girl. So, I left.”

“She called you that?”

“Every day, unless she was ignoring me,” I respond. “But if anyone else came around, she loved me dearly.”

“Want to tell me more?”

“Nope, that’s it. I’m outta here. Everyone in my life has been nothing but fake, except one – so, how can I trust you?” I ask, stomping out of his office.

As I walk away, I faintly hear his voice yell out, “Tomorrow morning if you want, Savannah. You can trust me.”

But the thing is, I don’t know if I can…