Gathering Water

Chapter One+Two

Eighteen. It's the year we all expect our lives to change. It is, after all, when you finally become an adult—finally become in charge of your own life. Most people wake up on that monumental day and run to the mirror, convinced they magically transformed into a bona-fide adult during their eight hours of sleep. Others lie in bed, thinking about the momentous changes sure to be coming.

I'm sure there are some people who go about their day as if nothing is different, and usually, nothing is. I liked to think those are the people who are most content with their lives...the people who have no unanswered questions, no haunting pasts, and no uncertainty about their futures.

When my eighteenth birthday arrived, I didn't rush to the mirror eager to see my grownup self. Being in the foster system since birth kept me from seeing the day as different from any other.

I probably lay in bed for ten minutes before my alarm finally convinced me to get up. Eighteen was huge. It was a birthday I had waited impatiently and anxiously for. It meant I was legally an adult, and for foster kids like myself, that's a big deal. I was no longer a ward of the state. I had control. I didn't have to worry about getting a new family if I made a mistake. No more psych evaluations and no more child services. I was free!

It also meant that I was suddenly responsible for myself.

Just yesterday, I had a team of people to answer to—people who fed me, clothed me, told me what to do and when to do it. If I had felt like a prisoner to the system before, I felt as if I were adrift at sea now.

After getting out of bed, I stepped gingerly over my two duffel bags' worth of clothes into the hallway and made my way downstairs. Most of my room was already packed. I didn't have many personal belongings, which would make moving that much easier since Margaret, my foster mother, was no longer responsible for providing me with a room.

Margaret was, as always, already up when I walked into the kitchen. She was an early riser and usually drinking her second cup of coffee by the time I rolled out of bed. The previous eight months had actually been decent because of her. She was an elderly woman, with salt and pepper hair and a disapproving mouth—not exactly warm and cuddly, but she treated me well enough. She kept mostly to herself except at mealtimes, when she insisted we be together. I'd had worse rules. I think she appreciated my company since her own children so rarely visited—only twice since I moved in.

Though my world already felt so different, that morning's routine continued as it usually did. Margaret finished making her oatmeal and started on the coffee while I poured milk into my Lucky Charms, then we both sat down to eat in companionable silence at the beige card table she kept in the kitchen. When we finished eating, I grabbed our mismatched dishes and brought them to the sink before lathering them up with lemon scented dish soap and playing the part of dishwasher. When I reached for the flamingo-decorated dishtowel to start drying, I was surprised to find Margaret had already started on the job.

"I can finish this up," I told her.

"I don't doubt your abilities, but I can at least dry the dishes on your birthday." Not knowing what else to do, I thanked her, then turned to go back down the hallway into my soon-to-be former room, but was stopped by a tentative touch on my arm.

"Della, the new kid isn't supposed to be here for another couple weeks. You're welcome to stay until then," Margaret said, surprising me. I knew she was going to get another ward soon. She'd been fostering consistently for the past ten years and acted as a way station of sorts—only holding on to a kid for a few months until a better place was found.

"Um, thanks, Margaret, but I'm already packed, and it won't take that long to move my things into the apartment above the convenience store."

My job at that store had been a lifeline. The pay wasn't exactly great, but in a smaller town the job options were limited, especially since school was out. My boss, Marv, was letting me rent the small room above it for cheap in exchange for fixing it up and making the space livable, since it barely fit that bill.