She never let horrible people or terrible moments make her stop believing.
I’ve been living my life guarded and controlled for so long.
It’s time for a change.
It’s time to take that leap of faith Mom always preached about.
“Stay. Please stay.”
With that, I grab the remote from the coffee table and hand it to him.
“As long as you don’t pick any scaries, I’ll let you choose our binge.”
The smile I get in return chases my worries away, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
After a few minutes of bantering about our tv show preferences, we ended up binging a police procedural she loves while we ate our dinner and she questioned me about the authenticity of the show. I tried my damnedest not to burst her bubble because of the way she kept shooting me hopeful looks. As if I would ever tell her that the show doesn’t even begin to compare to the real thing.
She drew me in with the way her eyes welled up anytime one of the characters got riled up to the way they lit up at the ‘gotcha’ moments. Somehow, I felt like she was letting me be privy to the Ria no one else got to know. Every single time she laughed or angrily shook her finger at the tv, I felt myself fall a little bit more. These little moments she shared with me felt like a gift.
Halfway through the third episode, she turns to me.
Ria tucks her hair behind her ear, and just like that I’m once again struck by how beautiful she is.
“What about you? Where are your parents?”
“I never knew them. I was raised in foster homes until I was eighteen.”
“Tell me about them.”
I pause, unsure how much to divulge. Ria had a crappy night and is finally smiling. I didn’t want to dampen the mood.
She reaches over and covers my hand that’s resting on the back of the couch with hers.
“Please?” She gives me a half smile, her eyes shining with a soft kindness, I’ve begun to associate with her.
"There’s not much to tell honestly. After a while it got repetitive,” I chuckle, humorlessly. “I got stuck in homes with fosters who could care less about the kids in their home and cared more about the checks they were cashing in.”
She doesn’t say anything, instead giving me a supportive squeeze with her hand. The warmth of it urges me to continue. I’ve never shared any of this with anyone but in this moment, with her looking at me like that, I’d tell her anything.
“I’ve seen some really bad stuff, Ria. I’ve been with foster dads who abuse, foster moms that hit and sometimes I even ended up with foster parents who didn’t even bother to feed me or let me bathe because they were too busy using the money to do drugs than to actually care for the kid they took in. Eventually a neighbor takes pity, or a social worker comes to do a random check and I end up getting pulled out of the home and into another… but that shit stayed with me. I knew then that I never wanted to end up like them. I didn’t want whatever crappy card I’d been dealt with to dictate the rest of my life.”
She sniffs and a tear slides down her cheek. I sit up, feeling guilty for having made her tear up but she stills me with a gentle pat to my hand.
“Did any of them… ever hurt you?”
I give her a stiff nod and when her eyes widen in horror, I do my best to muster up my most reassuring smile. “I’ve been cussed at, had things thrown at my head and a few times, my arm was pulled a bit, but I’ve always been able to defend myself, so it never got too far. Over time, I’ve learned to stay quiet and make myself scarce around the homes. As long as I had a roof over my head, food in my belly and I was able to go to school, I was good. Eventually I ended up with this retired marine who had recently lost his wife. His daughter had encouraged him to foster so he wouldn’t be lonely and though it wasn’t the best home I’d been in, it wasn’t the worst. I learned discipline there. I found my calling there.”
She smiles again, her knuckles coming up to brush her tears away.
“This may sound weird but I’m in awe of you, Noah. You managed to turn your life around into something quite remarkable. You should be proud of yourself.”
Ihad spent most of my life alone and don’t remember the last time I wasn’t.
Last night with her looking at me the way she did, with no sign of pity and telling me I should be proud of myself, it stirred up feelings I didn’t know I was even capable of.
I felt a sense of camaraderie with her. She made me feel hopeful and yes, damn proud of myself even more than I already am.
I told her how I wondered if that’s why I kept gravitating towards her. Because I saw a soul akin to mine. A kindred spirit.