A Forgotten Tomorrow

by Teresa Schaeffer

  “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.

  CHAPTER 6

  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…

  CHAPTER 7

  As I walk away from the City Community Center, I still feel it. I still feel the rage that’s brewing inside. It needs to escape, but is unable to reach the surface as anger, instead becoming a river of tears.

  The memories of my life surface all at once, causing my whole being to feel completely numb. I could shut down, I need to shut down. The bridge by Flannigan’s is too far to walk. I won’t make it – I need it now. I need a fix.

  Everything I’m passing is blurred, like it doesn’t exist, as my mind remains fixed on that day I left Miss Peters’ house. We were fighting, badly. For two years I let her degrade me, call me names and ignore me as if I were invisible. That day something clicked – I realised it wasn’t okay. The fury I’d held in for my entire life exploded.

  At first I begged her to call my case worker and have me sent to another home. I asked her why she even bothered keeping me there for so long, and she couldn’t even respond. It didn’t make sense.

  “Just call her,” I yelled, “I don’t understand why you are even keeping me here. You don’t give a shit!”

  “Watch that tone, young lady!”

  “You watch it! I’m not taking it from you any more, I don’t have to!”

  “You ungrateful brat!” she yelled back.

  Quick as a flash, I was in her face. “Ungrateful you say? You’re a miserable old maid, who only cares about herself!”

  “Oh is that right? And that’s why I took you in, right? Because I only think about myself?”

  “You’re crazy! I’m getting’ outta here. Can’t take you anymore! Gonna call her myself, and tell her that you should never have any kids in your house.”

  “Go ahead and leave. And Savannah – who are they going to believe? Me? Or a poor, depressed child who no one wants? Your mama didn’t want you, that’s why they threw ya on me.”

  I couldn’t resist – I pushed her into the wall, fast and hard, and I’m sure I hurt her. And right after that, I just left. I ended up not calling my case worker, because I figured that I wouldn’t have any luck there anyway. They’d probably stick me in another hell-hole, and if they were going to do that, I might as well be living on my own.

  Granted, this might not be the life I had hoped for, but it’s okay for now. Better than places like that. And once I save enough money I’ll get out of here for good.

  Back to reality. I need it, my body needs it. It’s a craving I can’t deny, especially when I feel like this. I need some place to go, an empty alleyway, a parking lot – anywhere.

  I’m shaking and everyone is staring at me. I should sneak some into my hands, just a tiny bit is all I need, enough to relax me. I need to relax and stop thinking so much. Stop it!

  I walk into a dark alleyway. As the sun sets, most of it is hidden in the shadows. No one will notice me here; maybe I should stay until I go to work. It only has one entrance, which is good. And I can stay alert, just in case any lunatics pass by. Normally I wouldn’t do this because I don’t know this area all that well, but I don’t care right now. I need to calm myself down.

  The zip-locked bag that carries my powder is low, too low. I
feel panicked, because it will only supply me for another day or two. Then what? I can’t go to Jon for any, or any of his dealers. That’s where I used to get a fix, but now I need to stay as hidden as possible. If they saw me, I’d be where Elijah is – dead.

  I lean back against the brick wall and pour some powder into the palm of my hand. I place it under my nose and inhale. Again and again, until I feel its power taking over my body. I’ve never used so much at one time, but I need it. I need the calming sensation, the euphoric state of bliss to take me away from all of my past miseries and worries of the present.

  My mind drifts slowly, and visions of my best friend begin to surface. I smile, forgetting for a moment that I will never hear his laugh again, remembering perfect moments, those days we would goof off for hours. I remember that certain day when his face revealed pure excitement, when he knew his life was going to change forever. On that day his smile lit up my heart, even though my heart felt, at the same time, pained.

  When Elijah was still around, I would often go to his house while his dad was still at work and hang out for a while. He used to joke with me, saying I only loved him because of his bathroom. That wasn’t true, but I surely did love using his shower.

  His dad had just had the bathroom refinished, so it was a taste of luxury – for me, anyway. I’m sure Elijah took it for granted because he was used to having some of the finer things in life, but the spa tub and stand-up double-headed shower amazed me. I would’ve probably stayed in the shower forever if Elijah didn’t force me to get out.

  On that day, I went over to his house around four o’clock in the afternoon. I’d planned on going over a little earlier, but most of the time it was safe so long as I left before six. I never understood why, but Elijah tried to keep me away from his dad as much as he possibly could. I gathered that his dad was over-protective, and the idea of his son being friends with a prostitute wouldn’t have gone over well.