Endless Winter

My feet dragged underneath my heavy, soggy body. The soles of my black leather boots sunk into the muddy earth. The wet autumn ground was decorated with scattered patches of snow, which had been left over from the previous storm. I disrupted the puddles of mud before me, splattering brown on the rouge snow spots. My dirty black hair hung in knotted ringlets on my breasts, dripping with rain. It was the kind of acid rain that you only find in those high-populated areas where the clouds are made of car exhaust.

The non-existent path was familiar to me, but as I walked along it all the things that used to smile at my figure glared at me. The trees seemed whisper among themselves. “Who’s she?” they said. “What does she want?” another would say. But perhaps that hiss I heard was just the wind. Four years isn’t all that long and besides getting boobs and growing taller, I hadn’t really changed. It wasn’t my fault I hadn’t been here in so long. The wonderful people in social services forcibly removed me from this place, my home.

Speaking of which, I unfortunately had to see my social worker, Tina. I absolutely loathe her. I despise her annoying voice with that obnoxious New Jersey accent. I hate her ugly thin lips that are always colored “tramp red”, which, by the way, is not her color at all. But more than anything I despise that she only pretends to care about me because she needs her bi-weekly paycheck. It’s hard to believe that I was sitting in her ugly office just this morning.

I sat in her dated, yellow-brown armchair, trying not to listen to her. “Happy Birthday, Riley,” she had said to me, in a tone I’m sure she thought was cheerful. I muttered a sarcastic “thanks” and crossed my arms. She sighed and smiled at me in an insincere way.

Yes, it was true, today was my birthday; my eighteenth one, to be exact. The eighteenth birthday is an important one, especially as a foster kid. See, when you’re a foster kid, you still get to be on your own when you turn eighteen. You still get all the responsibility and expectations of a normal kid with parents; the only difference is you have absolutely no support from the state. Basically, the state drops you out on your butt, and expects you to find a job, get a house, and feed yourself, without and funds saved up prior. It sucks. So yeah, I’m here, in Tina’s office, to have that done to me today. I can’t wait.

“I can see you’re doing well today,” she said as she shifted through piles of papers placed upon her desk.

“As always,” I replied in an equally pleasant tone. She let out a low growl in the back of her throat and looked up at me fiercely through her square spectacles.

“Look,” she said in a frank tone, “this is the last day we ever have to see each other, kid, so let’s end on a positive note, yes?” She smiled that fake smile again and I returned it, rolling my eyes after she looked down. I waited for her to talked to me again while I boringly looked around her office. It really wasn’t that interesting. It had regular linoleum floors with regular fluorescent lights. I felt my small suitcase by my side that contained all of my belongings, everything that I owned. I dazed a bit until Tina called my name in an irritated voice. Bitch needed to take a chill pill.

“Riley!” She called again. I sighed and looked at her. The expression on my face must have made her think I was paying attention because she started to talk again. “You’re situation is not an odd one,” she began, in her ”I’m going to be talking for the next hour” voice. “There are multiple cases where a child’s parents die--” I glared at her for using the “D” word and interrupted her.

“My parents aren’t dead.” She looked at me blankly, her mouth open slightly with disbelief. This wasn’t the first time we had talked about this. I have had many a heated argument with Tina about whether my parents were dead or not. I don’t remember all of them distinctly, but they were all pretty much the same.

”Riley, whether you want to believe it or not, your parents are dead,” she said, leaning her hands against her desk, he bright red nails scratching the surface. I glared her fiercely.

“They are not!!” I argued.

“Honey, it clearly states in the police report ‘dead’.” I yelled out loud, frustrated. She was so impossible and I hated it when she called me cute little names like “honey” or “sweetheart”.

“The police had no tangible evidence of their death, those bastards just gave up!” I retorted, nostrils flaring. She shook her head in annoyance.

“I’m not going to give into you, whether you use big words or not.” I rolled my eyes at her.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t get a college degree and don’t know the meaning of resolution nor adherence.” I crossed my arms and turned away from her, nose stuck in the air. Her eyes got very large and her own nostrils flared. She pointed a blood red, threatening finger in my direction. I had hit a soft spot. She hated it when we talked about how she never went to college at this job, which was why she sucked at it.

She regained her composure, sending a glare my way. “Anyway, “ she continued. Oh god, here it comes. She’s going to tell me I’m free to go and that I’ll receive $200 dollars towards my home, food, and basic survival and send me on my way. I hated being in the foster care system. My parents always sucked and the kinds were always extremely annoying, but I would do it all again if I didn’t have to live on the streets of San Francisco begging for food or money. “Since your parents had no will, you get their belongings, all of them.” She pulled out a stack of papers and put it in front of me. My eyebrows rose.

“What?” I asked in disbelief. “You mean I get everything? The house, the car, the money?” I couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t going to be homeless? I wasn’t going to have my life go up in flames? I actually had a place to go; a place that I could call home?

“Yep,” she said, unenthused. She flipped to the back page of the document and pulled out a pen. She uncapped it and pointed to the line where I obviously needed to sign. She dropped the pen and I picked it up. “All you have to do is sign on the dotted line. ” I signed my full name, Riley Alexandra Lovvet. Tina took the pen and the stack of papers. “You’re one lucky kid.” My hands shook with excitement. I’m free, I can go home.

I didn’t even take the $200 dollars. I just went to the bank and took out $1000 dollars in cash. I’d never even dreamed of holding this much money in my hands. Apparently, getting access to my parent’s accounts was a big deal, so they made me show my ID and I had to sign a few papers. But after that, I was a free bird. I got the keys to my house, the car, and the safety deposit box, out of the safety deposit box and I was gone. There was no way I was sticking around. I had to take a cab to my old house, which was located in the Sierra Mountains. The cab ride alone was $600 dollars, but the guy did go a really long way. I even ought the guy lunch as a thank you for taking me all the way up.

So that’s how I ended up here, at my rotting house. At first I couldn’t believe it, but the closer I got to the house, the more real this all became. The sky was clouded over with grey and the whole earth was soggy and cold, but I hadn’t felt so alive in a long time. My dark blue jeans were splattered with mud by now, but the closer I got the house the less I cared.

I walked underneath the tunnel of dead oaks until the opened into my paved driveway. My eyes lit with excitement. There it was, in all its glory. My home was still here, in the midst of the dense, harsh forest; my childhood mansion had lived on. The shingles on the roof had begun to fall off, and the wood stain was fading, but I was blind to its imperfections. I was too happy to be back.

My steps increased in speed, as I got closer. I took all of it in. Memories came at me like speeding bullets. I looked at my room on the top floor. I knew it was mine because of the bulge in the place where my window seat was located.

My heart was beating so fast, and it got faster as I came closer. Before I knew it I was 20, 10, 5, yards away. I hardly could breathe by the time I stopped at the front door. I held my breath as I stood there in silence. I looked at the crisp, clean navy blue door, paused in my expedition. I gulped and took the shiny silver key out of my pocket. I pushed it into the keyhole and turned. I pushed the wood and the door swung open to my past, everything about me resided in this house and it all came at me so fast, I almost didn’t walk in, but after a bit of convincing I got the courage to face all of the memories I had been suppressing for so long.