It happened at M.J's birthday party, the day she turned two months old. Even though she wasn't exactly old enough to have a birthday party, her parents wanted her to have the full experience, even if she was in diapers and would have many more to come. She was enveloped with love, and her parents always pounced on an opportunity to show her off to anyone that would stand around and listen. And they always did. People would tell her mother what a beautiful baby girl she had given birth to. How she was like a princess, graceful even as a baby. How her silky brown waves shone in the light. How her deep brown eyes portrayed innocence and beauty. They told her she was the purest creature that ever walked the earth.
And even though M.J was indeed an infant, she understood that love came in different ways. It could come effortless, as the love from her parents. Or it could come through hard work and effort, as with a lover, or friend. Or it could come completely unattainable, as with someone you despise. M.J was underestimated, as all parents treat their child like they know nothing. But M.J did. She knew that some things are too good to be true. She was a very good observer.
Her mother had invited everyone from her address book to attend M.J's party. The room was overflowing with balloons, and streamers of pink, red, and yellow were strewn over everything, making a canopy over the patio on the back deck. The sun was just setting, casting rays of red, orange, pink, and yellow over the city of Carlson, the place where M.J's parents had lived all their lives.
As the guests arrived, M.J was hoisted up and shoved into their faces, her parents bragging and sending compliments about her. M.J could tell the guests were trying their hardest not to just tell her parents to stuff it already, but since she couldn't speak, it was pointless. M.J appreciated the compliments, glad that she had the unconditional love from her parents. But getting bragged about didn't seem very nice to her. And she soon got bored, squirming and crying more often until her mother would rock and murmur to her until she calmed down.
She realized that the love a mother has for her child was strong. It was irrevocable and unconditional, nothing could compare to it. And she also realized that her mother only bragged about her because she thought she was so special that she deserved the whole world to know about her. And though M.J understood this, she also understood that all good things, no matter how amazing they are, have to end. But she never expected it to be so soon.
So when she started to smell smoke coming from the patio doors, she knew that something was wrong. And it seemed she was the first to notice it. She started crying to the top of her lungs, squirming and pulling her mother's hair for her attention. Something bad was going to happen. She could feel it in her tiny heart. From the top of her small cherubic head to the soles of her feet. They needed to get out of here, and fast.
It seemed like an eternity before one of the guests, a skinny man with bright blue eyes and auburn hair, yelled out in alarm, pointing towards the patio doors. He was yelling in a raised voice, telling people to get down, to cover their face. By now, panic had broken out among everyone. The auburn man tried to keep everyone calm, but he failed. People were scared. A woman was screaming, a man was hiding under the table that held the cake, and a group of children sat in the corner of the patio crying. But what was worse was that the patio was on the second floor, and it was a long drop. There was no way to get down. The flames must have already spread through the entire house by now. They were trapped.
M.J started to wail. She didn't want to die, nor did she want her family or any of the other guests to die either. And to think that the fact that she understood exactly what was going on only made it worse.
Her parents didn't know what to do. The house was burning down. They were all too high up to jump, and everyone was hysterical. And soon, the back deck, made out of wood, started to wobble. The flames had reached the wooden beams that supported the deck. And they were starting to crumble. Soon, the whole thing would collapse. People were on their knees. Some crying, some praying. One man was still trying to figure a way out, even though it was all to no avail.
So M.J's mother did the only thing she could do to save her only reason for living. She grabbed M.J, grabbing jackets, pullovers, scarves, anything she could get her hands on from the other guests, and swathed M.J in a cocoon. The tears were pouring now, but she had made her decision. Her baby girl was not going to die this way. She kissed her tiny cherubic face, pulled her close for a moment, and then thrust her into the air, a second before the deck collapsed, bringing the back side of the house with it. It crashed to the ground in a mound of soot and rubble. Only a small portion of the house was still standing.
M.J flew through the air, much farther than she would have thought possible. She closed her tiny little eyes and prayed that if she died, she would have much prefered to land on the grass instead of asphalt. But instead, she landed into someone's arms. With an intake of breath, she opened her eyes to see a woman with long black hair tied in a braid that went all the way down her back looking startlingly back at her. She could tell just by looking at her that the woman was nice.
The woman pulled M.J into a tight embrace, crooning softly to her. M.J started crying. She lifted a hand and pointed back to where disaster had struck, leaving her with nothing. The woman gasped again when she saw what remained of her home, of her parents. The woman suddenly whipped out a small silver cellphone. She pressed three buttons.
"Hello? Yes, this is Gilda Mansfield," Gilda said. She started muttering rapidly into the phone, too fast for M.J to understand. She only got snippets of the conversation. She heard the words fire, baby, homeless, foster care, and her address. When Gilda was done, she stuffed the phone back into her purse, and turned to M.J.
"The fire department and police are on their way," she said, as if M.J could understand, but what Gilda didn't know was that, M.J did. Gilda started unwrapping the strips of clothing off of M.J.
"You poor thing. You could have heat stroke on a night like this," Gilda murmured, holding M.J in the cradle of her arms. The sun had sunk behind the trees, the fire from the house ablaze. It was still going, and soon, the rest of the house tumbled down until there was nothing standing. Just a big mound of rubble, and somewhere underneath, twenty four human beings. Two of them her own flesh and blood. The night around her seemed peaceful, and she wondered how something so good could end so quickly. She didn't understand.
About ten minutes later, she heard the faint sound of a fire truck, followed by police sirens. But those sounds did not bring relief to her. If not for Gilda's, warm strong arms, M.J would be close to breaking down. She already was. She was on the brink of tears. Babies weren't known for holding their tears back, but M.J was too smart and mature for her own good. She acted more like an adult than some of the actual adults she knew.
The four fire trucks pulled up in M.J's drive way. Fireman jumped off and grabbed a hose that must have been at least fifty feet long, or maybe more. Before long, the fire was out, and the only light that illuminated the world around M.J were the police lights. Gilda held her close, talking quietly to the policeman, explaining what had happened, at least what she had witnessed. M.J didn't know if she actually witnessed the fire, or if she was just giving her assumptions of what happened. Gilda kept a tight grip on her, even when a policewoman offered to take her.
M.J didn't know what was to happen to her now. She had no parents. No home. She had heard of a thing called a foster home when her mother was chatting with her dad about one of her friends and how unfortunate her situation was. But she didn't really understand the concept. But she knew it wasn't really something that was smiled upon.
Gilda and the policeman stood and talked softly for a little while, trying to sort things out. M.J was so exhausted. More exhausted than she had ever felt in her life. As much as she had lived of it. She wanted nothing more than to just lay her head back and fall asleep. But she didn't want to miss anything, but she was still young, and sometimes you just can't help what your body wants. So M.J relaxed from her stiff position and drifted into slumber.
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It seemed a long time before M.J woke up again. It was warmer than before, and brighter, she realized. When she opened her eyes, she saw white. White walls, a white desk in the middle of the vast room. White padded folding chairs, and a big clock hanging over the desk on the back wall, declaring it to be 10:30. She was in Gilda's arms again. M.J patted her arm, but Gilda ignored her. She was talking to a man that was sitting at the desk. He was tall and had a cap of chocolate colored hair and a big handlebar mustache. It reminded her of the evil villains she saw when she watched cartoons back at her home.
They were talking in hushed whispers, even though they were all alone. M.J didn't see anyone else, though she guessed there were probably more people behind the big white doors that were stationed around the room at regular intervals. M.J waited patiently while the adults talked. They were talking too quietly for her to hear them. While she waited, M.J wondered what would have happened if there had never been a fire. The party would have ended like it should have, and her life would have gone on.
But she also was curious as to what started the fire. As far as she knew, all of the guests had been on the patio when it happened. But maybe she was wrong. Maybe there had been someone downstairs. Or it could have been as simple as an electrical fire. Either way, fire had ruined her life.
Finally, Gilda and the mustache man finished their conversation. But what confused M.J was the look of despair on Gilda's face. Her twinkly green eyes had lost their shine. Her ivory skin looked sallow, and her pink lips were pulled into a frown. Whatever mustache man had told her, it wasn't good news. At least not to her. She looked down at M.J then, staring into her deep brown eyes, somehow too deep for a child's. There was affection clear in her eyes. In the way she touched M.J, the way she held her, the way she looked into her eyes. M.J stared back.
"There has to be a way," Gilda said quickly to the mustache man. She was trying very hard to get whatever she wanted, whatever they had been talking about.
"I'm sorry m'am. But I just can't allow it. At least not now. In a few years, if you're still interested, then we can talk. But as of now, I'm afraid there is nothing I can do," he said gravely, getting up and taking M.J out of Gilda's arms. Gilda winced, reaching out, but quickly stopping herself. M.J started to whimper. She didn't want to leave the only person she knew. She didn't want to go anywhere. What were they going to do with her. Where was she going? These childlike questions started bubbling in the depths of her brain. She was confused yet again.
"I understand, Mr. Yakros," Gilda said. She dabbed her eyes with a kleenex and kissed M.J's forehead before walking out the door.
M.J's whimpering turned into wailing. She started jerking and squirming. She didn't want Gilda to walk away.
"Shh...it's okay," Mr. Yakros said gently, cradling her in his arms. "You're a beautiful little one, Mary-Jane," he said kindly, smiling down at M.J. Her full name was Mary-Jane Agatha Ronnin. But her parents had a habit of calling her M.J. So that's what everyone knew her as.
Mr. Yakros wasted no time. He reajusted M.J so that she was more comfortable lying against his chest, her head over his shoulder. She was calm now. The man seemed nice enough, she thought. He went through one of the many white doors that lined the walls. As he walked, M.J oggled. The place was huge. There were women dressed in white, kind of like nurses, walking around, going into rooms. When M.J caught a glimpse in the rooms, she found there were kids in them. Oh, I guess this is what a foster home looks like, she thought.
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Over the next few years, M.J was moved from relative to relative, wishing more than anything that a miracle would occur and Gilda would appear. But she never did. Maybe she had forgotten about her. Maybe something had changed her mind. But it didn't matter. She wasn't coming back. So M.J pushed it from her mind and focused on what she needed to do. Get adopted. None of her relatives wanted her. And no one offered to adopt her no matter how many people she met. What was wrong with her. She missed being loved by someone. Anyone.
Maybe it had nothing to do with her, but none of the other kids wanted to play with M.J. They sat in a group and played without her, making her sit in the corner and play by herself. But there was one person, a boy about her age, that didn't ignore her. One day, he was sitting with the other kids, and the next he was sitting with M.J.
"Wanna be friends?" he asked, smiling shyly. He had shiny golden blonde hair and soft blue eyes with strips of gold around the pupils. M.J had smiled widely, nodding her head.
They were insperable after that. They did everything together. They ate lunch together, they colored in their coloring books together, they even slept beside each other when they took their naps. His name was Matt McCarter. And he had become the best friend M.J had ever had.
But on the day she and Matt turned five, she had got what she had always wanted. She got adopted. She was giddy with excitement, but when she caught sight of Matt's fallen face, she started to cry. Matt started crying too. They hugged each other, the tears soaking into their shirts. The attendants watched with tears of their own. I guess they had never seen two small children so attached. But Matt decided to be strong. He pulled back from M.J and planted a single kiss on her cheek. M.J blushed and turned away, letting the attendant lead her to meet her new step parents.
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Clarissa and Alec Sans were her new parents. But even if M.J was five, she knew she didn't like these people. Clarissa had short curly blonde hair, and skin that looked like she just got out of a tanning salon. she had long acrylic nails that were painted thimble berry red. She was wearing a bright pink halter top and cheetah patterned leggings. M.J wasn't quick to judge, but she had a feeling that this woman wasn't a very motherly lady.
Alec was different from any man she had ever seen. With dark brown hair slicked back and a crisp clean suit, he looked like a lawyer, but he had a sinister way about him that frightened M.J, without her realizing it. She couldn't help but to compare him to Jake, the man with the auburn hair and blue eyes that had been at her birthday party. He seemed like he would make a good dad. Alec on the other hand she was having second thoughts about.
"Okay sweetie. Time for you to go to your new home!" the attendant said in a fake cheery voice. She leaned down to hug M.J and placed her hand in Clarissa's. She dropped it as if her wrist was oozing acid. She turned without even a hello and walked out to her car, leaving Alec and M.J to scuttle along after her.
On the ride home, wherever home was, M.J was silent, keeping her questions to herself. She had a feeling these two weren't the kind to tolerate ethusiastic questions. She was too busy thinking about Matt. She missed him. She hated having the people she loved taken away from her. First her parents, then Gilda, and now him. Could nothing good in her life ever stay?
Her new house was in the city of Byron. It was in a fancy neighborhood, which told M.J that her new family was loaded. She was left outside to bring in her bags by herself. What parents they were, M.J thought. She sighed and got out of the car, going to the trunk and getting her bags. If only Matt were here, she thought. And then a miracle from God occured. M.J was convinced that was what it was. Because across the street, a dark blue minivan pulled in. A man and a woman got out of the car, and opened the door to the back seat. And out stepped a little boy about the age of five with silky golden blonde hair. And she knew that if she saw his face, she would see his soft blue eyes rimmed in gold. She jumped with joy. She called out his name, grinning when he turned. She waved, and Matt's eyes brightened, waving back.
She was filled with joy, happiness. She couldn't believe her best friend was that close, just a walking distance away. She loved Matt. He was her best friend. But she had never meant to fall in love with him.