You Can Keep The Cherry.

Chapter Two.

Chapter 2

Tyler Santos

“It will only be for a while.” Mrs. Reed finally breaks the silence among us. We’ve been in the car for at least an hour; riding along an empty highway.

“How long is a while?” I look at her, but she doesn’t meet my gaze, instead her eyes stay fixed on the road ahead; it stretched for several miles. I stare at her as if the answer to my question was written on her face, instead it held no emotion. “How long is a while?” I recite once more; however, this time there is more venom in my voice than I intended to project. Again there was no reply. I bang my head against the fabric of the seat, letting my eyes fall shut. I love the silent game.

“I care about you, Tyler. You know that.” Karen, that’s Mrs. Reed’s first name, recites quietly to me, her voice a mere whisper.

Karen has been my social worker since I was a child. I’ve been moving from foster home to foster home for the last ten years and Karen always tried to place me in the best care, so I could grow up to be a great man. I roll my eyes at the thought.  I guess you could say she did care about me all these years.

“You’re eighteen now, Tyler. You are legally able to live on your own; however, I’m afraid you’re not ready for that responsibility yet.” Karen still doesn’t look at me. I turned eighteen a week ago and about an hour ago my current Foster parents, Jack and Jill (weird ass couple), kicked me out. They claimed they couldn’t handle my “behavior” any longer.

“Your parent’s would have wanted the best for you and it’s my job to make sure you fulfill that commitment.”  I roll my eyes at that comment. They died ten years ago in a fatal car accident. I was only eight years old when it happened. I remember the day like it was yesterday when it all went down-the tragedy. It started out just like any other day-I got up for school; mom made me breakfast while Dad read the newspaper. I laugh quietly at the memory of him in his oversized lens, always propped to low on his nose. The day, however, did not end the same way it did every day- my mom tucking me into bed while Dad read me one of my favorite ghost stories. Instead, I was in a stranger’s house while my parents never managed to take a breath again.

“You know they loved you, right?” Karen looks over at me, sincerity covering her deep brown eyes. I couldn’t answer that question at the moment, not because I didn’t know the answer, but because it brought too much pain to remember the amount of the love those people had for me.

 I was in a school play that night. My mom pressured me into auditioning because she thought it would be a great opportunity for me to make some friends. I hated the idea, but I tried out for a part anyway. I wanted to make her proud of me. I got a part as a hombaloumba in the school’s production of “Willy Wonka and the chocolate factory”.

It was the morning of opening night and I was excited yet nervous to go on stage for the first time. Mom and Dad dropped me off at the front of my elementary school; they were quiet as if they had bad news to reveal to me. I remember feeling betrayed when my mother told me she was unable to attend the opening night because she needed to work late. She placed her soft hand to my small cheek and her velvety voice spoke in a weak tone, “Your father will be there and he’s going to record it for me. I will watch it as soon as I come home. I promise, honey.” I can still see the glossy film over her eyes as I pushed her hand away from my face, not wanting her comfort. Dad must have seen my lips begin to tremble, for he reached over my mother in the passenger seat, taking my shoulders in his large hands, shaking me with such fierce it took the air right out of my chest. His raspy voice sounded tired, “Your mother is deeply sorry, but you have to understand why she can’t be there, son.” I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t care what he had to say. All I cared was that my mother wasn’t going to be there. I wasn’t going to step out on stage and see her face in the crowd. I wasn’t going to see the smile I was able to bring to her face. Her son bringing her joy. None of that would happen. I was furious at her for doing this to me. She made me audition and she wasn’t even going to be there. The next three words I said to her before I ran up those large, brick steps and into the school building haunt me every day of my existence. I. Hate. You.

“Tyler? Are you okay?”  Karen’s voice brings me back to life. “You’re crying, honey.” She places a hand to my shoulder.

 I was parallelized for a brief moment. I didn’t move my hands to wipe away the hot tears streaming uncontrollably down my cheek. I didn’t croak out any words. I didn’t look over at her. I couldn’t move. My chest felt as though it was caving in; all my breath being sucked out. I need air. I need my parents back. I need to tell them I’m sorry. I need to tell them I love them. I need to tell them I didn’t mean to kill them.

“It’s okay to remember them, Tyler.” Karen squeezes my shoulder, trying to comfort me.

That night my parents rushed to come see my in the play. That stupid play! They were speeding.

“Thanks for wanting to help me.” I look over at Karen, a small smile absorbing my face.

“You need to change. You need to get a job, so you can start to pay for your living expenses.”

I’ve tried getting a job for a while, but nobody wants to hire me after they see my criminal records. I’ve never murdered anyone. I’ve just done other illegal shit. Stole. Dealt drugs. Joyriding. Drinking under age. The basic stuff. After my parents died I went downhill. I blamed myself for it, so I take it out on the law. I rebel.

Karen turns away from the road to peer at me for a brief second, her eyes scanning my face. I know what she’s looking at. “The piercing needs to go.”

I slide my tongue over the metal punctured through my bottom lip. I got my lip pierced on my eighteenth birthday. A present to myself. I got the money from the drugs I dealt. I wasn’t getting rid of it, no matter what. The ring was staying.

Finally, after a two hour drive, Karen stops the car in a driveway. I’m guessing her driveway.

“We’re here.” She puts the car into park and leans back in her seat.

“Nice house.” I look at the two story, blue house in front of me. A porch wrapped around the exterior. Large white windows covered every two centimeters of the house. “Nice windows.” I smile looking over at Karen.

“I like to have sunlight in my house.” She smiles at me.

The house was neither large nor too small. It was the perfect size for a family. A family I never had.

“Well, let’s get you settled in. You have a long process ahead of you.”

I open the car door, stepping out on the graveled driveway. The hot California heat choking my throat. I follow Karen to the door. Here I am. Best. Fucking. Day. Ever.