An Act of Persuasion(40)

He made a sharp noise and she watched his jaw tighten. He was mad for her, but there was really no reason to be. It was simply how the system worked.

“Go on,” he said.

“The second family I didn’t like as much. There was an older boy, theirs, who was nasty. In hindsight probably not any nastier than any ten-year-old boy would be who had a nine-year-old girl foisted upon him out of the blue. I provoked him, too. I was mad at having to leave my last family, I guess. And I think it was then that I finally understood what my situation was and that I was different from other kids. I acted up a lot and he was an easy target for my anger. If I had left him alone...but I can’t change what happened.”

“What happened?”

“We would fight all the time. He would chase after me, pull my hair, sit on my chest. Stuff boys do to little sisters who annoy them and I was intentionally annoying. Only I think with real brothers and sisters there is more of an underlying affection. A sense that they are connected no matter what. Family. We never had that. We were two strangers living in this house and we didn’t like each other. One day our fight got out of hand. He was squeezing me from behind, because I had taken his prized signed baseball. I reached over my shoulder and scratched his face. Then he wigged out, pushed me down and started punching me.”

Anna stopped walking, remembering what it had felt like. Lying on the new carpet in the family room, the one that Mary had warned her not to spill anything on. Not able to get away as the pain grew while Howard—funny, she hadn’t thought about him in years—kneeled over her with his knee pressed into her stomach as he continued to hit her with the fist he’d recently learned how to make.

“He broke my nose. Blood spewed everywhere. It was so gross. Mary and Bill came running in. Mary was shouting that the carpet was ruined and Howard was being held back by his father. I remember he started crying. Scared himself I think. He probably didn’t know he had that much violence in him. Anyway they called my case worker and when she got a look at my face, she removed me from the home. But really I was to blame for part of it. I worked at making him hate me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Anna shook her head, purposefully avoiding looking at Ben. She didn’t want to see pity in his face. “You know how many brothers and sisters fight? You know how many end up with broken noses? That’s what I mean. Being in a foster home isn’t like prison or hell. It’s just a place.”

“And the last home?”

“Two nice people. Jan and Larry. They were older and their son had just graduated from college. They were suffering from empty nest syndrome I think but didn’t want someone too young. They were terrific people. I still send them cards at Christmas and they still send me a birthday card each year.”

“But all that time you still hated your age. You were only what, ten, eleven?”

“Twelve by then. Yeah, but I knew any minute it could go away, right? I mean, what if Larry or Jan got sick? Or what if their son couldn’t get a job and wanted to come home but didn’t want me around? They were great people and did as much for me as any two people could, but there was still that fear. The knowledge that they weren’t mine and that it was all temporary. I needed to be eighteen. Because then I would be independent. Once I was eighteen everything that was mine, was mine to keep.”

“When did you come here on your class trip?”

“Freshman year of high school. It was part of our art class grade. You know, back when school still had art. I remember thinking how normal I was. I had been with Jan and Larry for almost two years. Not everyone knew my situation, just some close friends who asked because I called Jan and Larry by their first names, instead of mom and dad. I had a boyfriend for the first time. I felt normal for about ten seconds. Then I remembered. I always remembered. And I thought, only four more years to go.”

“Eighteen is young to be on your own,” he said gruffly.

“Larry and Jan were great that way, too. I worked all through high school at two different jobs and earned enough for a semester at community college. They let me pay board for a ridiculously low rate while I got my associate’s degree. Then with a solid waitressing job and some financial aid I was able to go to Rutgers to get my bachelor’s degree.”

“Was that hard? Staying with them when you wanted out?”

Anna smiled softly. “You don’t get it.”

She could see he didn’t like that response.