Written by: Sarah Biglow
Erik Cicada glanced out the car window as it sped past the tall buildings of San Francisco's busiest road. Rain beat savagely against the car, blurring the forms outside as his mind drifted back to the past month. He'd been living with the Clarksons, a young couple that had been chronic binge drinkers and heroine addicts. They'd beaten him almost everyday, mostly for no reason. It had taken Erik a month to get up enough courage to talk to his social worker, Kaydrin Atwater, about it. Erik was not a very outgoing boy. Having been in and out of 3 homeless shelters and 7 foster homes since he was five, he'd learned to keep his mouth shut and keep to himself. He had few friends and those he made usually turned out to be backstabbers.
As the car drove on, Erik recalled the conversation he'd had with Kaydrin after she'd had Jack, her husband and fellow social worker take him to their house until she found a suitable home for him. Erik had been sleeping when Jack had stuck his head in the doorway and told him that Kaydrin was on the phone. He'd gotten up and clumsily taken it from the brown haired man.
"Hello?" a groggy Erik answered.
"Erik I've got great news! I've found a family that is very willing to take you!" she'd exclaimed.
"When do I---" Erik had questioned nervously.
"Tomorrow!" Kaydrin had interjected brightly.
Erik should have been happy at the prospect of a new home but he'd learned to never get his hopes up. Everywhere he ended up, he was always miserable, mistreated and alone. Over the years, he'd closed himself from the world, fearing that if he trusted it, he'd get hurt. It had taken years and constant reassurance for him to trust Kaydrin. She was always looking out for his well-being. The 14-year-old boy was drawn out of his reverie by the soft touch of a hand on his shoulder.
"We're here," Kaydrin said quietly. "Are you ok Erik?" she asked concernedly.
"Yeah, I'm ok," Erik mumbled to the floor, his dirty blond hair dripping into his field of vision.
The two got out of the taxi and walked solemnly up to the door of a modest, 3 story building. All of Erik's belongings were contained in a small black backpack that hung loosely from his right shoulder. Before ringing the doorbell, Kaydrin looked at the boy in his baggy jeans and Megadeath t-shirt and his deep grey-blue eyes, eyes that had seen so much pain and held no hope for a better life. Looking away before she began to cry, the woman rang the doorbell and waited.
After several minutes, a plump woman in her mid forties with graying red hair and crystal blue eyes opened the door and smiled at Erik. Emerging behind her was a man, thinner than the woman and with dusty brown hair and caramel colored eyes.
"Erik sweetheart come in," the woman said, motioning for the boy to enter. "My name is Sandra and this is my husband Max," Sandra said.
"Hi," the teenager said glumly, avoiding direct eye contact.
Kaydrin gave the kind woman a look that said, 'Don't push him. He's not ready yet.' So, with that bit of information silently exchanged, the small group moved from the foyer to a cozy living room. Erik hesitated before sitting on the edge of a chair near the doorway. The room was filled with pictures of a happy family on many a grand vacation.
"You aren't our first Erik dear," Sandra said sweetly, breaking into his thoughts. "Max and I have 3 of our own you know," she continued.
"Yes, Morgan, James and Andrew," Max recited proudly. "Morgan's the youngest, a senior in college."
"Oh. That's great," Erik responded dully, clearly not interested.
"Well why don't I leave you three to get settled in," Kaydrin piped up. "And Erik, you know where you can reach me if you need me," she added, giving the disheartened boy a stern look.
Erik rose and gave the young woman a hug. After she left, Max and Sandra showed Erik to his room. It was spacious with a large, walk-in closet and 17 inch television set, the walls were painted a calming sunrise blue and the window overlooked the ocean.
"Thanks," Erik said, setting his backpack on the bed. He turned to look at his new foster parents. They seemed nice enough but it was always the nice ones that caused the most trouble in his mind.
"Dinner will be ready in about a half hour," Sandra said, breaking the awkward silence that hung oppressively in the air. Erik nodded and dumped the contents of his bag onto the bed. He'd brought his 5 favorite Megadeath shirts and 6 pairs of jeans, his Walkman, and wallet. He didn't have much money in the wallet. It was more of a protector for the only memory he could preserve of his parents, a photograph taken the week before they had died in a car crash.
The next few days went by in a blur. Sandra had taken him shopping for some new clothes but hadn't objected when he piled several stacks of Megadeath t-shirts into the cart. Max had shown him the substantial library on the second floor of the house where he sat amerced almost every afternoon. The only familiar sensation was entering a new school. Erik was a freshman in high school and did not make friends very easily. For the first few weeks he'd gone straight home, done his schoolwork and then sat in the library, reading or just simply enjoying the peace and quiet of the room.
Slowly, Erik settled into the routine that the Reynas had developed. He'd managed to make a few friends and occasionally spent time with them on the weekends. Pretty soon, weeks were melting into months. Before Erik knew it, he'd been with the Reynas for four months, the longest he'd lasted in a foster home. He knew not to get his hopes up.
"Nothing this good can last forever," he muttered to himself as he stepped into the chilly January air and retrieved the mail. Sifting through it, he came across an envelope with the San Francisco Court address on it. He bounded into the kitchen where Sandra sat, baking.
"Thank you honey," Sandra said as she wiped her hands on her floral apron.
"What's the court sending you?" Erik asked, genuine interest in his tone.
"I don't know. Let's find out," the woman said cheerfully.
She opened the envelope and removed a letter. Quickly glancing over it, a look of shock and happiness came over her.
"Max! It's here!" she shouted to her husband, who was upstairs in the library. Max appeared in the doorway, out of breath.
"What's here?" he asked confused.
"The court's letter," she said excitedly to her husband. "Oh Erik dear let me explain. Max and I wrote to the court and asked if we could adopt you. Of course it's up to you but we just wanted to make sure we could in case you wanted to," she said in one breath.
He was shocked. These people actually cared about him. He didn't know what to say. He had to admit that he liked living with them. Before he knew what he was saying he had vehemently agreed. Immediately, he'd called Kaydrin to tell her. It turned out that she had already known. She submitted the paperwork as soon as got off the phone with him.
Within three weeks, Erik was officially and legally Max and Sandra Reyna's son. He had a family, a real family that cared about him. He had friends that weren't using him for their own gain. They liked him for who he was. He'd even found a passion for writing. He'd seen beyond the darkness and hopelessness that had enveloped his mind and soul. During his stay with the Reynas before they had adopted him, he'd begun to write down his experiences since he'd been orphaned, but that's another story.
