Forgotten

In front of me stood a house. The edges of the house seemed to blur and mix in with the greenery around it. This was an old fashioned house. It sat in the middle of two other brownstones, pushed back farther from the street then the others. Vines cascaded from the top of the house to the bottom, slowly spreading out to the houses around it like a spider's web. A tree with small white flowers dipped down to greet me as the wind tickled its leaves. I stepped forward, opening the gate. The gate was black, carefully crafted so the top arched down on either side. The black poles that held the top and bottom part of the gate together were covered with periwinkles and myrtle flowers. Next to me stood a staircase made out of brown concrete. Along the end of each side stood flower beds filled with marigolds. At the top of the staircase was a bright red door with windows guarded by black bars. Under the stairs was a door with an eviction notice. I began to feel sad for whoever could not pay their rent when a force pulled me away from the door. I tried to resist but it was as if my brain had stopped sending signals to my body, everything refused to move and my nerves shot through with adrenaline. The world around me turned white as I floated in the middle of it. I turned my head, finally able to move again when I saw a black hooded figure. The hood covered a non-existent head, the rest of its body concealed. Then a knife suddenly slid out from his sleeve as the figure's long bony fingers curled around it. It stuck the knife straight in my heart when I woke up. I sat up sweating and afraid. The dream slowly faded, my brain trying to grasp it with its many hands. The dream floated away and then disappeared as many did. I laid back down, my head in my hand, “What a great way to start the day.” I thought to myself. With that I got up, ready to greet the sun.

I wore black jeans and a white top that said “feminist” in big black bolded letters. I grabbed my bag that was weighed down with many books and homework assignments. I rushed out the door already late for my first class of the day, creative writing, in which we got story prompts and had to write a five page story for every week. I did not mind the class;, I rather enjoyed it acutely . I jumped into my broken-down car praying to whatever god there was that it would work. Luckily when I put the key in the ignition and set the car to drive it turned on. I pressed the gas pedal and began the drive to Columbia college. 

When I got to my class a classmate was in the middle of sharing as I slowly crept to a seat in the back of the room. She was telling a fantasy story, which was never to my liking so I began to daydream, using her voice as a white noise, when the teacher called on me. I froze, feeling the exact same fear as in my dream. I knew if I ever wanted to be a writer I would have to share my stories. Unfortunately, I have severe stage fright. I spoke with a quivering voice, “Y-y-yes sir.” “I would like you to come up and read your story, that is if you're done daydreaming in the back of my class.” He spoke sternly, annoyance tinting his voice.  I reached into my bookbag and pulled out my story. I walked quickly to the front of the class feeling every pair of eyes in there pouring into me. I put my story on the wooden pedestal I began to read. My story was about a car crash, a very real one, the car crash that killed both my parents. My sister and I were put in an orphanage, we were eventually picked by a very nice couple who also died. The only difference was they waited to go until we were 18 when we could fend for ourselves. Rose and Belly, my two mothers, were killed in a peaceful protest for gay rights by the police. I was never afraid to tell their story and never will be. It’s a story that needs to be told. When I finished my story the room was quiet, thoughts of pity most likely going through many of their minds. I stepped off the stage and went back to my seat letting the room be engrossed in my words.

The rest of the day droned by. I turned in homework, received homework, got tests returned and took tests. It's the never ending cycle of work, my plans for the future hazy at best. Reading that story led me to wonder about my sister. I’m not sure I want to know. After the whole deal with our new parents she became an alcoholic, she married a scumbag who then divorced her and took all her money. I tried reaching out on multiple occasions but she answered the phone drunk as she slurred on her words and threatened to harm me and herself if I ever bothered to stop by for a visit. I wasn’t too worried about myself but I like to think I was protecting her. I drove home. I opened the door to my bland apartment with boring brown walls that made the place look smaller than it is. I put on my pajamas, brushed my teeth and charged my phone to go to sleep, restarting the never ending loop of life. That night a phone call would break that loop forever.

It is currently two am and the phone is ringing. This better be good I thought as I forced my mind to move my legs and answer it. A woman with an alto voice answered the phone. Her voice reminded me of water and the way the waves tumbled over one another, eventually crashing on the sand. This calming voice did not help me to stay awake as my mind shifted closer and closer to the cliff of sleep. I was about to close my mind when the woman said, “Your sister has died of alcohol poisoning.” My mind snapped awake, now I was alert, wanting, needing to know more. She spoke very softly in a way that you knew she had done hundreds of times before. She said, “I am very sorry for your loss but your sister did leave you something in her will.” I scowled to myself. I don't want anything from her, I supported her after mom and dad died and helped her adjust to a new home with our moms. Her thank you, disappearing off the face of the earth for two years. I was about to hang up when she said, “She left you her daughter.”

No. “M-my sister does not have a child s-s-she would have told me.” I said but I didn't truly believe myself. I’m too young for this, I thought. “I’m not equipped to be a mom.” I said, “I’m still in college, I'm not ready.” There was a pause, “I suppose she could go in the system.” The woman said. When she said this my insides froze, I would not allow her to go through what I went through. I have to do this. I knew what I said next would change the future of me and this little girl. “Where do I pick her up?” I said my voice hoarse with worry.

I frantically packed an oversized sweatshirt and some shorts that no longer fit me expecting whatever clothes the little girl had would be in worse condition than mine, considering my sister was a raging alcoholic. “Was.” Jesus Christ, I will from here on out be addressing my sister as “was.” Tears filled my eyes, no matter how much she hurt me she was still MY little sister and I wasn’t ready to let her go. I thought I still had more time with her. Time. Sometimes time is cruel, it runs out when you most need it and keeps on going when you want it to stop. Cruelest of all it keeps on going when it has stopped for you. 

On my way to my sister's house in east New York, I decided to look up her name. Leto, that was her name.  It’s a Greek name my mother gave her, my mother was Greek and it was important to her to keep the names alive, especially the unpopular ones. Leto, if memory serves me, means forgotten. I hate that word because there are too many people to which that word applies. I don’t want that word to go hand and hand with my sister, though I suppose most of her original soul has already been forgotten by her and others. I know it’s inevitable to be forgotten but still, thinking about me or anyone else I knew being forgotten still chilled me to the bone so I turned on the radio to drown out my thoughts. I turned the radio sound up and immediately my chest tightened with anxiety and fear. A song by The Temptations called “Ain’t Too Proud To Beg” came on. My grip on the steering wheel tightened as I remembered that day. We were so happy. Leto, Mom, Dad and I were driving in the car when the song came on. We all began to sing, yelling out the windows into the wind as it swallowed up our sound. When The Temptations got to the chorus the car made a sickening crunch as it was launched forward. Deafening pain followed as we landed upside down hanging from our seatbelts. Fear flooded my face. That was the last time I ever saw my parents alive. I turned the radio off and drove the rest of the way in silence.

I arrived at an apartment door. I walked up the creaky stairs to apartment 6. The woman was there to greet me. She shook my hand and said, “Hello my name is Alethea. Your niece, Pertinax, will not remember much of her prior family as she is only one year old so you will be her mother in her mind. We will provide money for the care of this child until you can find a stable job.” I'm not ready, I thought as I slid down the wall and put my head in my hands. Alethea squatted down next to me and rubbed my back, “I understand this is a lot. Once a little girl about four years old was refused by all her relatives but a family lawyer decided to adopt her. Now I have my little girl and I could not be happier, I know it’s a lot right now but I promise you will not live to regret it. So are you ready to meet her?” I nodded and got up as she led me into the apartment.

I walked into the apartment and the stench of alcohol and puke filled my nose. The furniture and floors were covered with empty bottles of wine and beer. I walked over to a small bed made out of pillows. I leaned over to look at my niece. She is so peaceful, I thought. I wonder what goes on in her dreams. “She is so skinny.” I said to Alethea in fear of the child's health. “Yes” she replied, “I fear the mother did not feed her properly.” Dread filled my body as I leaned over and picked her up, “I’ll take care of you Pertinax, I promise.” and with that I thanked the lawyer and took her home, now safe with me.

I’ve started falling behind on payments and I’m freaking out. Though my sister left me with her daughter she forgot to mention money as an addition. I can’t complain though it's not Pertinax’s fault and besides she brought some beauty, some meaning back into my life. I will figure out a way to pay the bills, I have to. It’s been a month since I brought her home. I am beginning to worry, she doesn’t eat properly, she doesn’t walk, and she barely talks. She’s already two! I’ve taken two extra jobs in addition to being a college student but the bills keep piling up. Today I saw an eviction notice on my door, the big red letters ingrained in my memory haunting me at every waking moment. I can’t pay it, I’m so far behind in everything, I feel my life slipping away from beneath my feet. I’m so terrified, I have no one and nothing to lean on, I have sold most of my worldly possessions to get myself through college and now I might not even be able to complete that. 

Today Pertinax said her first word, bird, she pointed to a blue jay that sat outside her window as it whistled a lovely tune. I guess it wanted to give me some happiness today. I’ve waited too long, we are getting kicked out. Both my jobs fired me because I could stay for long enough hours. Today I packed me and Pertinax’s things, though they were few, and said goodbye to the house, closing the red door behind us for the last time. 

I carried Pertinax close to my chest as I searched for a place to stay. I had about 500 dollars to my name that I knew wouldn’t get me very far in New York. I went to every hotel and every apartment pleading and begging them to let me stay there but my credit score was so low that not even the worst of the hotels and apartments would let me stay. After about the 50th apartment I sunk to the floor outside the latest apartment I had been thrown out of, rested my back against the wall and cried, Pertinax following my lead. My cries receded into a whimper when all of a sudden Pertinax stopped crying, she pointed upward with her skinny finger and said, “bird.” I looked up and saw the same blue bird doing circles in the air and somehow I knew everything was going to be ok. I held Pertinax close and thought this is the best decision I have ever made. I looked into her beautiful dark brown eyes and said, “ I will never leave you I promise.” With that the bird began to whistle again it whistled “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg” by The Temptations but this time I didn’t freeze. I knew my parents were watching. I knew they would keep us safe. I smiled to myself, surprisingly more happy than I had been in a long time.

The end

Go to this sentence: “Yes” she replied, “I fear the mother did not feed her properly.” and skip to here for sliding door alternate ending.

“I-I can’t do this.” I said as I began to run. I ran farther and faster than I ever had before until I reached my car. I fumbled around in my bag until my fingers touched the metal that  felt cool on my hot skin. I put the key in the ignition and accelerated as fast as I could until I reached home. When I got to my apartment I flung the door open, closed the door behind me and dropped to my knees as I curled up into a ball as if that would change the decision I had just made. What would happen to her now? Who am I kidding? I know exactly what, she will go into the system, tossed around from parent to parent until she finds one who is hopefully kind, someone to support her.   That someone should have been me. I am such a coward. I stayed curled up in a ball on the floor for the whole night, lulled into sleep, desperate to escape my god forsaken reality. 

I woke up the next morning to the bell ringing. I opened the door. I looked a mess but at that point I couldn’t care less. The man stood in a blue jumper next to a huge box. He said, “I need you to sign for this crib please.” I stopped short, was this some kind of joke. Was the universe getting back at me, toying with my mind. “I did not order a crib.” I said, as I held back sobs.  A woman from a next door apartment came out and said, “I think that for me sir.” She looked so happy, she wore bright colors, a messy bun, and the biggest smile I had ever seen.  “We're adopting!” she said to me and held up a picture of her new baby. I stopped and every muscle in me tensed. It was Pertinax, her beautiful blue eyes shown up at me and I felt as if I might throw up. “S-s-she’s so beautiful,” I mustered as I slammed the door behind me. I threw a pillow over my face and screamed. My screams turned into sobs and my sobs turned into tears. I am now doomed to be a spectator in my own nieces life, I suppose this is now my punishment. Now and forever.