Splinters: Part One

Part One | 1

"Oh yes!" Melissa exclaimed. "He couldn't make it here because he's got work, but I assure you he'll be home in about..." She looked at her watch. "About an hour or so."

"And the girls?"

"They're with their grandparents. My husband and I wanted to meet Brayden first."

Mrs. Armstrong thought for a moment. "Well then, Brayden, how does that sound? Wanna go pack a back?"

I nodded and got up, heading towards my room.

...

When I closed the passenger side door, I stared at the orphanage. Interestingly, it looked pretty with the red leaves falling from the trees in front of it. If it wasn't where I've been for years, I'd think it's a nice place.

"Do you like St. Anne's?" Melissa asked me, starting the car.

I kept my eyes on the front orphanage door. "Yeah," I lied.

"Why?" It wasn't a question of disgust. It was a question of curiosity.

I lowered my gaze to the sidewalk. "I guess I just... belong there."

Melissa didn't answer me. I could feel her eyes on the back of my head, probably feeling pity. I didn't have the strength to confirm it. 

"So where's your school?"

I shook my head. "I don't go to school. The nuns teach us."

"Oh..." she said. "Do you have a favorite subject?"

I didn't answer.

"My favorite subject is math." Melissa went on. "I like to solve problems."

Again, I kept silent. I didn't want to start a connection with her. I knew that after tomorrow, she'll bring me back to St. Anne's, and it will be the last time I'll ever see her. She doesn't actually want me, as much as it seems like she does right now. 

"There are lots of kids your age in the neighborhood. I'm sure you'll like them. In fact, most of them will go to your school."

I frowned as she kept talking about the future, as if she'd really legally adopt me. In comparison to all the other women, she seemed particularly adamant. I peered out the window and watched as we zoomed down the streets, trying to think of something else. 

"It's a dreadful drive from my house to St. Anne's. Thank God it isn't rush hour. We might get there just when my husband gets home."

It was silent for a moment. 

"He's always wanted a son."

I finally looked over at her. I could hear the pain and hurt in her voice and seeing her facial expression proved my assumptions just as much.

She gazed at me from the road. "I'm sure the two of you will get along well."

I blinked before wiping my sweaty hands on my roughed up faded black jeans.

"You can call him Greg."

I sniffed, resting my head on the back of my seat. "Okay."

The rest of the ride was kept in silence. Melissa decided to turn up the radio. She had an odd taste of music, one that didn't suit her in my opinion. It had a bluesy tone to it, which I happened to like. Melissa kept her eyes on the road most of the time, sparing a couple glances at me. I think she could tell how nervous I was, but she didn't address it.

I watched as the roads turned to highways and then to streets, and then to neighborhoods. The houses we were passing were extremely large with perfectly mowed lawns and what seemed to be expensive cars parked in the driveways. I'd never seen anything like it.