...I was always the one anyone chose last.
I was the last person picked if at all, for any given game. I was the last one left in the room, when other kids got adopted. And: I was the last one of the day to get cared for. No matter what.
I guess that no one wanted to mess with the girl who had more freckles than a Dalmatian had spots, and whose head of unruly red curls could rat for days. No one, except my best friend. My only friend.
She came when I was about seven. I expected her to be the same as everyone else was, and I almost decided right away that I should avoid her. That is, until one of the older kids decided to push me in the dirt and pull my hair.
See, she was older than me by about two years. So she was a 'big kid' too. She came right over and pushed Jordan off of me, then got it to up in his face and demanded to know what he was doing. He got crappy with her-him being eleven and a half and her being about nine-and thought he was going to shove her down too. The next thing Jordan knew, she had kicked him in the crotch and busted his nose when he crumpled over. Needless to say, the grownups weren't very happy with her. She did end up getting in trouble, for awhile. It didn't change much from that day on - she just got better about avoiding being punished for things.
As she pulled me up out of the dirt, she grinned at me and told me I would never have to worry about Jordan or anyone else picking on me ever again. This made my sniveling mess of a kid self very happy, as I'd never had a friend before. Even my imaginary ones ran away - it was bad. I was also worried though.
The new girl, whose name I would later learn to be Louise, was beautiful. She had skin a lot darker than my pasty colored, freckled flesh. It was almost like she'd been born with the perfect tan.
Her eyes were darker than anything, but held bits of gold hidden away in their depths. This made her brown hues glow any time she had even the slightest mischievous thought come to mind. Her hair was a deep chocolate brown, and unlike mine, it was nicely wavy and much easier to take care of. Sometimes, since it was so long, and I was so much shorter than Lou, she would hang her hair down over mine so I could pose in the mirror and pretend it was mine.
For the longest time, I was hesitate to let myself get too close to Lou. Since she was so pretty, I almost always thought that she would be snatched up like that. There was only once that she was ever adopted.
They brought her back a month later.
The first place she went when she was brought back, was to go find me. For the first time, Lou was the one initiating all the affection. I could hear the parents arguing with Mrs. Pitterling, they didn't seem happy at all. Lou was all grins and hugs. She told me that she had done everything she could to be able to come back for me.
What all she had done, I had no idea. I had never asked her - I kind of wish now, that I had taken the time to ask her.
I will forever remember the day we were adopted. Lou refused to go without me. The couple was older, and had never been able to have children of their own. A lot of cases like that came to our orphanage. Initially, they picked Lou. Afraid I would be left alone again, I started crying. Lou hugged me, smoothing down my poorly pulled back curls. She looked back to the couple, then to me. I only caught glimpse of the older woman once. I saw her look at me, then lean over to her husband. Something in how she looked at me was different than how any other adult had ever looked at me. She wasn't disgusted, but instead looked as if something inside her had broken.
It was only a few moments, before she came over to us. She looked down to us, and smiled softly. Resting her hand gently on Lou's shoulder, she looked down at me.
"You're quite fond of your friend, aren't you, sweetie?" she asked, a soft knowing tone in her voice. Her voice was a nice sound. It wasn't harsh or scolding, like Mrs. Pitterling's was. It wasn't very loud, either. Though it felt so..comforting, to me.
"Yes." Lou answered her immediately, though not with the sass she gave other adults. This could be our only chance in a very long time to get out of there. By then, we were both getting older. The older children always had a hard time getting out. I had seen so many kids get kicked out - Mrs. Pitterling hated teenagers, so the limit in her orphanage was sixteen - not eighteen.
There had been a few cases, where kids had been ousted at only fifteen-and-a-half. One kid, a girl, had been there until eighteen. A long time before I was there, and nobody ever knew the story the same way. Some kids said she died from some kind of weird sickness there, some said Mrs. Pitterling adopted her herself. Others..said Mrs. Pitterling killed her.
Either way, I guess I'll never know. Not that it's my business anyway.
At the time when we were going to be adopted, Lou was already turning fifteen in a week. I was only around thirteen, so I didn't have to worry yet about being made to leave. I knew I didn't want to stay if Lou wasn't there, so I just clung to her when the lady came over. Without Lou there, I hate to say it, but I would have been eaten alive. Orphanage children can be so cruel - especially if they have been looked over for someone in the same age range as those left behind. I.e. : Me.
"I can't leave her here. I won't. They're going to make me leave soon, and she'll be alone again. I have to stay here to protect her as long as I can."
This seemed to be all the lady needed to hear. She smiled, and nodded at us. Holding out her hand to me, she took my hand with her left hand. Lou's hand, she held with her right. As she led us over to who would be our new father, she looked to us both.
"My name is Vivian. You can call me Vi, or Viv. If you want to. That's Eugene."
Vivian seemed to know it would be too presumptuous to ask us to call them 'mom' or 'dad' so soon; she didn't seem bothered by it, though.
From that day forward, my life changed - for the first time. I finally had a home outside of the dank, old Victorian-styled orphanage that Mrs. Pitterling ran. Lou and I were officially what we'd been since we met: sisters.
I finally had a family to call my own. The Wilson's, Vivian and Eugene, I mean; lived together in a nice little house in a town far from the orphanage. It was more of a rustic community, I noticed. Everyone knew everyone. Everyone grew up with everyone, and nearly everyone would help everyone. Although - it also meant everyone knew who to steer clear of when there was 'feuedin' about.' Basically, there were those families in the town that didn't get along as well - everyone knew about that, too.
Being there was such a change, I can remember Lou and I stayed up that whole first night. My new parents had a dog, which we played fetch with and tried to teach how to play dead. She was a mix of a Border Collie, and an Australian Shepherd. This meant she was very colorful, but also extremely fluffy.
Her name was Lilly.
Lilly had a mischief streak a mile wide - nearly as bad as Lou's was. I have so many memories of them both, it's all that is really keeping me going right now. Seeing as that's all they are now. Is memories.
I should have been the one to die. Vivian and Eugene, I couldn't do anything to help them. Vivian was sick, and tried to stop a burglar. Eugene died later, grieving over his wife of forty-seven years. Lou, I could have helped. I should have been the one driving. If I had been the one driving, then I would have been the one who flew through the windshield- not Lou. I wanted to help her. She was still alive for awhile afterwards, but I was stuck in the car due to how we had went off the road. By the time I pried myself out, smashed against the glass of the windshield until it shattered completely and crawled through the broken glass, there wasn't much I could do. I was there with her, all the way up until she died. I tried to walk her to the hospital, but I was so disoriented that my directions were mixed and I ended up missing the hospital by a block. Just one, and I missed it.
That is why I am where I am now...
The crisp Autumn air bites at my nose. The numbness in my legs is what truly draws me back to reality, though. How long have I been standing here..? I wonder. And who have I been narrating my sob story to? There's no one else here. As I try to figure it out, my eyes land on Lou's headstone. I can feel grief clasping it's evil hands around my chest again. Stilling any pulse I have; stunting any vain attempts I make to breathe. The hands of grief are not unlike the hands of death: bony, old, and withered - but with a surprising grip behind them.
The only break my frozen face gets from the light, but frigid wind that's started, comes in the form of hot, stinging tears. Not an unfamiliar visitor to my eyes. Lou died late last summer, so the memory is still very fresh in my mind. Especially when I go home. Lou and I became roommates after we left home; we had moved into the city for a change of scenery, and more job opportunity. Every time I go back to our apartment, I am hit with what feels like a ton of bricks. It isn't the same anymore, even Anna knows it. Anna is all I have now, since I don't know where the rest of her litter or her mother, Lilly, went.
Anna has been just as depressed as I have, getting her to go outside for walks is as hard for her as it is for me to remind myself that I need to do it in the first place.
Each step I take back home feels like it is made by a stranger. I walk unseen by anyone, even with the wind tasseling my mane of fiery red curls around. I know this should be something that would be hard to miss; but apparently since I am me, I am exempt from this idea.
When I finally get home, the time is what forces me to come to life a bit more. I would be late to work -again - for the third time this week. My willingness to work whatever shift and however many hours over they need me, is what has kept me from being fired; I'm sure of it.
I hurriedly tie my mess of curls back; as my boss from Hell told me the next time that I forget to, he'll cut my hair off himself. I may not like my hair, but I am not too keen on the idea of someone else being in charge of what happens to it. I have already fried my hair by trying to straighten it for this job.
If I could quit, I would.
The problem is, that I don't have either the time nor the means to search for anything better. Soo..I'm stuck. It barely pays the bills, and most of the rest of it goes for feeding Anna. I can at least say I have complete certainty that I will never be fat. Though, the alternative of wondering if I'll pass out while holding a tray is not much better. Other employees don't seem to have my problems. I'm beginning to wonder if it is because they're living off the fat bonuses they get every other week. I've not seen one. Lou did; but of course, everybody loved Lou.
Slipping on my work clothes, I grab my bag and rush out the door. My car needs work, so I'll be walking. Thankfully for me, I have gotten pretty good at running to work.
I hit the door just in time. One more minute, and I really would have been late. I straighten my clothes, smoothing out the wrinkles caused by running. Tucking each strand of fire that I can reach back into place, I then wash my hands and head out to do my job.
Don't forget to smile.
You may be unhappy, but the customers don't have to know that.
Don't scare the children! They're staring at you!
Annnd..you stopped smiling. Great.
Oh, look. The nice lady left you a note... That should be promising..
My thoughts throughout my shift are scattered. It's hard to focus on any one thing I am supposed to do, because I am becoming very overwhelmed. I wish it were in my job description to crawl in a hole for a hundred years or until I feel like living again. That would be nice.
She wants me to do what?
I have to hold her baby. I'm holding a baby. Help!
Aww.. I can't believe this kid is actually cuddling me. And..she fell asleep? Wow.
It's five o'clock.. just about..however long til closing and I can go home. Yayyyy...*insert mental sarcasm*
The rest of the night isn't much different. Things go on as normally as always, nasty customers are nasty. Nice customers seem to have taken a hiatus on diner-going for the day. Babies throw up on me, when I come to take the orders from the then very embarrassed bigger family groups.
The only thing that is out of the ordinary today, is the very last customer I have to serve. By now: I'm covered in bad attempts to clean my apron, my hair is all out of place and I am almost certain I must look like I've been ran over by a Mack truck. Couple that, with my less-than-beautiful appearance already.. I must look like Queen Elizabeth right now, I mean.. Total top model material right here, honey.
Clearing my throat, I shove one of my ornery curls behind my ear and do my best to smile at him. It's so hard though, not to smile like an idiot. A waitress really shouldn't gawk at a customer, but the brilliant green of his eyes alone makes that exceedingly hard to avoid. Someone so pale with such dark, short hair.. Normally, I would think that would be an awful combination.
This, though..I could stare at him forever..
Since I can feel the heat rising to my horribly freckled cheeks, I make myself look down at my notepad. I give him a customary soft greeting, then ask what he wants. I stand and wait for a good five minutes, almost beginning to wonder if he may be taking his time in order to keep me there longer. Why he would want to do this, I have no idea. Although I have had the unshakable feeling that he might be checking me out almost the entire five minutes I've been standing here. Of course I think this is absurd, so I keep my eyes on my notepad.
When I finally get his order, I turn and try not to look like I am running away. The idea that someone could be showing even the slightest bit of interest in me though.. Is terrifying. No one has ever shown any kind of interest in me, aside from the friendship I shared with Lou and maybe a few other people. I have already resigned myself to being alone, due to the fact that I look like some kind of dalmatian-ginger mix. My hair looks like a rat's nest. As to my figure? I am highly convinced that I look like a potato, that has been squished onto a squash or some other melon. My only redeeming feature might be my eyes. Crystal blue and eerily clear, I have scared quite a few people; others stare at my eyes and keep asking if they're natural.
I always told Lou I would be alone, and that I could never be nearly as pretty as she was. She would always wave my comments off, and insist I was crazy for thinking I was anything but drop-dead gorgeous.
Is that why I want to drop dead every time I see my reflection?
My walk home is dark, and of course much colder than when I ran to work earlier. I try my best to keep what little tip money I did get hidden - the last thing that I need is to be mugged. Even in the cold air, with my hair blowing everywhere, I am looking at the last tip. It was actually a napkin, written on by the strange customer who left last. It was a single word, with a question mark after it.
He was asking me on a date.
I don't know how they work. I don't know what to do. I'd ask Lou since she always had guys trying to get her attention; it's kind of hard though. To ask someone something if they're six foot under, and you should have been the dead one.
When I finally get home, I manage to set the tips and napkin on the counter and put my apron in the floor. Right before I pass out on the couch. I am so glad tomorrow is my day off.. I haven't had one in so long. I think Lou was still alive the last time I got a day off.
