Michaela

Sitting on the small cot at the orphanage, I crumpled the math test I held in my hand into a ball, once again hearing the orphanage director’s voice in my mind, “They’ll be here at three to pick you up.” It was all so sudden, all without warning. I was almost too surprised to be scared, so I sat there in stunned silence, not knowing whether to feel happy or miserable. I was going to another foster-home, another family I had yet to meet. I felt a mixture of confusion, dread and something else I couldn’t quite place… hope?

Anywhere has to be better than here, I thought to myself, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.
~
Later that day, I sat in the lobby peering out from behind the musty curtains waiting for whoever it was to come. Whoever turned out to be a well-dressed business man in a blue blazer with a brown mustache. With amusement, I noticed that his socks didn’t match. He arrived for me at almost exactly three o’clock.
I was escorted to the car by the orphanage director. Each click of her high-heeled shoes on the pavement brought me further and further away from the orphanage.

As we drove away, I cast a final glance back. I never would have guessed that there would come a day when I would miss this it.

I noted that the man spoke not a word to me the entire way home (if I could call the new place where I was going home), not even a “Hello,” or “How do you do?”
After what seemed like an eternity, the man who had not even introduced himself pulled the car alongside the curb in front of a large house painted a bright white with red shutters. The entire house seemed to call attention to itself, giving the unwelcoming impression that a very arrogant family lived there. I mounted the high cement steps that led to the front door that stood between high pillars.
We entered into a large, but unwelcoming kitchen. The walls were a dull shade of green and the tiles on the floor were of an indistinguishable color. Over the stove, stirring a pot of dirty looking liquid, stood a medium-sized heavy set woman who was wearing too much lipstick. I cringed just looking at her.

She looked up to see me and then directed her gaze to her husband. “Who in tarnation is this?”

“The foster child,” he replied. It was the first time he had spoken.

“Right,” then more quietly as if I couldn’t hear, “did you have to pick such an ugly one? What’s her name?”

“Michelle, or something” he answered.

“It’s Michaela,” I muttered under my breath.
“What’s that?” the woman practically shouted. She stared threateningly into my eyes.
“Nothing,” I mumbled. I was too afraid to say anything else.
I was given some of the soup to eat and then was led to my room by the man. It was simple with no carpet and an elegant spindle-legged chair in the corner. The bed was in a gold metal frame. I laid down. The mattress was hard. It was growing dark outside. I looked to the clock on the wall; it read 8:20. Early, but not too early to go to bed. I took a deep shaky breath as a tear slid down my cheek. I knew I did not belong here. I would never call mustache man and his ugly wife father and mother.
~
It wasn’t until morning that I met Sebastian. After waking up, I was walking down the hallway when I practically collided with him.
“Watch where you’re going!”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. Who was he? Later that day I found out two valuable pieces of information: The last name of the people with whom I was staying was Evanstein, and Sebastian was their son.
Mr. Evanstein had already left for work when I got downstairs, so the three of us, Mrs. Evanstein, Sebastian, and I, ate breakfast together. Neither spoke a word to me the entire time. Instead they traded unpleasant and cutting remarks about me, as if I wasn’t there. I stared down at my oatmeal holding back tears. To my relief, Sebastian left for school soon after breakfast.
Throughout the day I was harshly commanded to perform different tasks and chores for Mrs. Evanstein while she stayed in the parlor relaxing. Once I slumped down in a chair, exhausted, only to be immediately reprimanded by a furious Mrs. Evanstein. She burst into the kitchen shouting, “Get back to work you good for nothing, lazy bum!”
“It’s not fair!” I impulsively shouted back, instantly regretting it.
“I’ll give you not fair!” she screamed, her face turning the color of a radish. “You will not leave this kitchen until it shines!”
I hung my head and grabbed the broom, hot, angry tears stinging my eyes. That was when I learned my third valuable piece of information: It’s not worth protesting.
~
Late that night Mrs. Evanstein came into the kitchen. She frowned and nodded.
I did not hesitate in taking the clue. I fled from the kitchen and up the stairs to my room, where I flung myself upon the hard mattress and I burst into tears. Every bone in my body ached. They were treating me more like a slave than a foster child, and I had not had a bite to eat since breakfast. As I cried myself to sleep, I wondered for the billionth time what it would be like to have a real family.

During the night, I suddenly woke up in a panic. My palms were sweating, and my heart was beating fast. What was it that I had dreamed?
~

I was alone in the orphanage dormitory. The bodies of many of the orphanage girls were strewn on the floor. In the distance, I could hear an evil voice, the voice of Mr. Evanstein's, but somehow it sounded different. He was saying something terrible, but I couldn’t understand the words. Back in the small bedroom I tried to console myself, convince myself that it was only a dream, but the pictures kept flashing through my head. I took several deep breaths, but my heart continued to pound in my chest. I slept fitfully the rest of that night, tossing and turning, waking over and over again, each time terrified of who knows what.

Finally I awoke to a gray, early morning light filling my room. I gratefully got out of bed, relieved not to have to go to sleep again. My bare feet were cold on the hardwood floor as I dressed myself. The clock on the wall read 5:30 am. No one would be up yet, and I was glad to have a little time to myself. I padded down the carpeted stairs. I sucked in my breath and drew back as I heard noise coming from the dining room. When nothing happened, I peered around the corner of the wall. There stood a woman dusting off the shelves, the maid. Of course! I hadn’t taken this into account, but it made perfect sense that these lazy, stuck up people would have a maid to do work for them. Then a thought occurred to me, They already have a maid, and then they get me to do work for free for them during the day! Those greedy pigs!
I just hoped that I would be able to get out of the house without her seeing me. I took the opportunity when the maid was looking away and had quietly assumed humming to herself. I snuck soundlessly into the kitchen and pulled the door open slowly so as not to give myself away. Then I was outside, letting the crisp November air fill my lungs.
I knew another hard day of work awaited me, but for the moment I was able to clear my mind of all such misery and let the coolness of the morning envelope me in peace. Though only right outside their front door I felt miles from the Evanstein’s. I knew I didn’t have long, and in the spur of the moment I thought about running. Just running. Running, and never coming back. The plan was very weak and had many flaws. I had no money, no food, nowhere to sleep, but the flickering idea was what kept me going all day.
~
It was Saturday and Mr. Evanstein and Sebastian were home. Mrs. Evanstein was just as bad that day as the day before, but I did not let her snobbish, cruelty get to me, for in my mind that flickering idea was transforming itself into a solid, well thought out plan.
After breakfast, when the dishes were cleared, I was locked in the kitchen with the task of cleaning, drying, and putting away all the dishes. With determined effort I scrubbed the dishes until they shone. After they were dried and put away, I looked around not knowing what to do. Since I was trapped in the kitchen without a way out and didn’t want to make Mrs. Evanstein angry by yelling that I was done, I sat down to think. I promised myself that I wouldn’t linger for more than a moment or two.
As I sank down into a chair, I began to sort through the thoughts in my mind. I knew I couldn’t bear it here much longer. I would run away, and soon. I then began searching for answers to the many unanswered questions for the escape in my mind. What did I need? Money… food… and most of all, I needed a destination. Where could I run to?
The distinct sound of a key turning in a lock interrupted my thoughts. I jumped, startled by the sound, and quickly got to my feet. In the now open door appeared Sebastian. His hair was slicked back and his black shoes were freshly shined. He turned his nose up in the air as he passed me, then he went out the door, closing it with a loud bang behind him. Where was he going?
I was relieved not to have been caught day dreaming, and I promptly walked out of the kitchen in search of Mrs. Evanstien. As it turned out, it was Mr. Evanstein that I found first. He was sitting in a leather arm chair smoking a cigarette and watching TV. My nose wrinkled at the smell as he looked up.
“What do you want?” he snarled.
“Uhh I umm… finished the work in the kitchen.” I replied not knowing what else to say.
“That is not of my concern you brat. Make yourself useful. Don’t interrupt me! Can’t you see I’m busy?”
As a matter of fact, I could not quite see that, but I kept my mouth closed and silently left the room. Not knowing what to do, I went in search of Mrs. Evanstein. She was nowhere to be found in the downstairs, so I cautiously proceeded to go upstairs. When she was not to be found in the hallway, I timidly knocked on the door I thought to be her bedroom. I braced myself for some kind of explosion but there was no response to my knock. I waited, puzzled.
And then the explosion came...
But not from the door. The voice of Mrs. Evanstein came from behind me. I jumped and whirled around, as she shouted. “You snoop! What the heck do you think you’re doing? You were about to barge into my bedroom! You miserable, disgraceful child! Why did you stop working?”
“I wasn’t… I mean, I didn’t… but I... I,” I stammered, unable to get the words out of my mouth.
“Liar!” she shouted, her flabby face shaking with rage. “That’s what you are, a liar!” Then she struck me across the face, hard. I winced, holding back tears as she grabbed me roughly by the hand and dragged me to my room and locked the door. The spot on my face that was already beginning to bruise was smarting painfully. That’s when I knew that I would make my escape tonight.
I would make my plan later, but first I knew that I must get a little rest.
~
I awoke mid-afternoon. The sun was shining brightly through the single window. I rubbed my eyes sleepily, and sat up. I checked the door; it remained locked. I stood up and walked over to the dresser in the corner of the room. I opened the middle drawer, where I had placed my few belongings. I began to rummage through them, a few pairs of clothes, my only shoes, a pair of red keds, a notepad filled with various sketches, and a flashlight that I had found in a closet at the orphanage.
Where do I want to live? I thought to myself. I need to go somewhere that I will not be found, somewhere that I can blend in. Then the answer came to me. Chicago. I needed a train ticket.
I had already solved the problem of money. The idea was startling when it first popped into my head, but while thinking about it I had gotten used to it. Stealing. I knew how wrong it was, but if anyone deserved it, it was the Evansteins. After all it seemed the only possible solution.
The small closet was a jumbled collection of old odds and ends. After several minutes of scrounging about, I found a few items that might come in useful: an old, faded, blue duffel bag in which to carry my few belongings, a map of the great lakes area, and an old copy of Anne of Green Gables. It was one of the few books that I had had access to at the orphanage, which I had read during precious moments of spare time. I carefully tucked it in the duffel bag along with my other things.
I waited, anticipating the night that would come.
~
I was sitting on the floor, studying the map, when the light began to fade. There was in fact a train station very near to here, and it would take me about three hours to get from here, in Grand Rapids, to Chicago. I jumped as I heard a key turning in the lock. I began to panic. I kicked the bag and map under the bed, and then I lept into the bed and closed my eyes. The door creaked open. I held my breath, then sighed with relief as it closed again. I waited for the sound of the door locking but heard nothing. My plan would work.
~
It was late, maybe eleven or so when I finally heard the lightswitch click off in Mr. and Mrs. Evanstein’s room. Now I just had to wait a safe amount of time for them to fall asleep. The next several minutes passed in suspended silence.
Then it was time. I reached under the bed and pulled out the duffel bag and map. I cast a last look about the room to make sure that I wasn’t forgetting anything. I opened the door. The hallway was dark and silent. I carefully made my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. I glanced timidly about, and then my eyes fell on what I was looking for. My fingers trembled as I picked up Mr. Evansteins brown, leather wallet. I peered inside. I didn’t count the money, but I could tell that there was plenty. I felt more guilty than I had ever felt in my life. Now, I was not only a runaway, but a thief as well. I crammed it deep into the pocket of my jeans. I hesitated. What was I doing? But as I opened the door, I knew that there was no going back.
The night was cloudless, and the stars shone brightly. My heart was pounding as I walked down the front stairs. I broke into a run, wanting to put as much distance between me and the house as possible. I clung to the shadows, not wanting to draw suspicion.
The pattern of the streets were implanted in my mind from going over them so many times. I wound my way through the silent streets. Not minutes later, I arrived at the station, in time to catch the twelve o’clock train. A small crowd of people also waiting for the late-night train, shuffled about under the dim light of the street lights. None of them paid me any mind, which I was thankful for.
I fumbled in my back pocket for the wallet. I pulled out a few bills and walked on shaky legs to purchase my ticket.
Momentarily the stillness of the night air was filled with the growing rumble of the oncoming train. It screeched to a stop, only a few feet from me. I boarded it in the midst of the other people, wondering where this journey would take me.