Everything Unfamiliar

III.

The evening is crisp and soft, the sun casting light in all the perfect places, making the universe seem so dreamy and quiet. We walk out, and I wave goodbye to Danielle and Liam then get into the passenger side of the car beside the social worker. He was an older man named David, who began making an excruciating attempt to counteract the palpable discomfort. I make no effort to encourage this and stay silent in the passenger seat gazing out the window until he eventually goes quiet. We drive for a long time, and for the entirety of it, my attention is fixed on the moving world outside until I lean back and notice my reflection in the window. Short, disheveled blonde hair, forest green eyes with shallow bags beneath them, and freckles dotting my face like specs of mud. I stare at myself for a moment, and I see, looking back at me, a girl who belongs to no one, not even herself. And then, suddenly, I cannot look anymore, so I turn towards the front, close my eyes, and sink into my chair, my body melting into the leather.

What seems like minutes later, but must be much longer because the sun is considerably higher in the sky, I am jerked awake by the sudden stop of the car.

"Alright Phoebe, we're here," Dave says, turning off the ignition and stepping out.

I get out too and observe the house we have pulled in front of. It was a larger, light yellow house, with a brown shackled roof and a grand chimney that beamed up the side. Dave began to walk to the door, so I followed behind him, adjusting the immensely uncomfortable dress that I commonly wear to meetings with potential foster parents. We walk up the front porch and Dave knocks with a playful sing-song pattern, we wait for a few seconds and I rock back and forth on my heels, noting small things around me that might give me a hint of what is in store. Even after seven years, I tend to get nervous at these arrangements; dreading the possibility of more rejections. Rejections that have intensified since the day, "has attempted to run away from housing," has been included in my files.

This addition appeared nearly two years ago. I was in a house that made my head ache and my jaw tighten just to be inside. Screaming children and mean adults festered the place, constantly nagging with a persistence that appalled me, and one night I decided to take a walk without my foster parents' knowledge. So, when the sun had retreated and the moon rose with enticement, daring me to meet it head-on for just a minute of tranquility and peace, I snuck through a window and began to walk. And I didn't stop walking until my feet were begging me to stop and the sun was peeking from beyond. And then I began to walk back, and when I arrived back at the house cops were waiting for me. My foster parents made it sound like I had done this multiple times, and the police could do nothing but believe them, for how could they believe a troubled foster child? Even though I haven't taken a walk since, I dream of that particular walk. A moment where I felt so completely alone, but for once I had a reason why.

The door clicks, and I shoot back into the present where I see a young woman standing in front of the door, arms secured around herself. She smiles at Dave and I shyly. She looks young, and some evidence of aging is apparent around her eyes and mouth, but despite this, she immediately radiates something of a gentle aura and a delicate beauty, like a retired ballerina. Hazel eyes and dark umber hair, bangs parted in the middle. She was wearing a blue floral dress that the wind took into its grasp.

"Hi, come in, please," she gushes, before opening the door wider to allow us to enter. Immediately, as my foot hit the old wooden floors, I was overwhelmed with a gorgeous aroma of citrus and spices. The woman looks at me, her smile soft, and then she reaches her hand out to me.

"It's great to finally meet you, Phoebe, my name's Alyssa. You'll meet Micheal in a moment, he's in the kitchen finishing up dinner," she says, shaking my hand.

"It's nice to meet you," I reply, trying my best to keep a candied grin on my face; just one of the rules we are taught to follow when meeting potential adopters or foster parents.