The Lead Up
Esme
Age 7
On my way home from school, I like to pick flowers and look at the birds. Going home to Mom and Dad is fun sometimes, but now they are always sleeping or being silly. I used to be scared to walk this way by myself but collecting the orange and purple flowers that poke up from the grass is a fun way to pass the time. I don’t talk to anyone, that’s what Daddy told me to do, but I wish I had a friend.
Leaving the school gate, I hop over the muddy puddles to the end of the alley. Instead of continuing down the sidewalk, I stop dead in my tracks. A little squeaky sound is coming from the bushes. It sounds like a bird - I hope it didn’t get hurt.
Ignoring the bugs, I move the leaves to the side and push my face into the branches. There in the middle, is a tiny gray kitten with big blue eyes. It’s the littlest kitty I’ve ever seen.
I walk home every day, always wishing for a friend. And now I just found a dirty kitty cat behind my school. I know Mom and Dad won’t let me keep it but I want to take care of it and try to help it. When the kitty looks at me and cries and I can’t just leave her, she needs a friend too.
“I know I’m little but so are you, I will take care of you, okay?” I pick her up and she makes tiny squeaky sounds but doesn’t try to get away.
I unzip my backpack and slip her inside. Carrying her all the way home, I feel brave. But as I climb the steps to our apartment, my heart is going boom, boom, BOOM.
Inside, I’m not sure what I was worried about. Mom isn’t home, and Dad is on the couch, sleeping again. I cradle my backpack against my chest and tiptoe into the kitchen. The fridge holds a half-eaten package of ham, a container of old dinner, and some ketchup. I grab the ham and ketchup, then take the bread from the counter.
With the food collected, I rush past Daddy to my room so I don’t wake him up. My tiny room at the back of the apartment doesn’t have a bed yet. Mommy promised one for my birthday if I keep being good. For now, I have blankets and pillows, and all my things are here. It feels cozy.
As soon as I close the door behind me I open my backpack then the kitten pads out and starts to cry, “Shhh, it’s okay,” she stretches as I pet her back, “I think you’re a girl? Are you a girl?”
In answer, she meows and pushes her little face into my hand. She’s so pretty; I think her name should be Grace.
Even when I pet her and try to calm her down she only cries some more, “Are you hungry?”
I roll up a slice of ham and break it into little pieces before I set them on the floor in front of the kitty. Grace happily starts to eat so I take the chance to squirt some ketchup on the bread, add more ham, and make myself a sandwich.
Age 10
On my way home from school, I notice that everything in the neighborhood seems really quiet. There are no guys sitting on the porch steps, no dogs barking - no sign of anyone. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, it’s so much quieter than I’m used to. Years of living here have taught me when the cops arrive - everyone scatters. When the police show up it’s rarely good for me, I just hope they aren’t at my house.
My parents have needed me to take care of them for as long as I can remember. They’re not like regular moms and dads - even though I know that it doesn’t make it easier. I don’t think other kids understand me, they always talk about their games or what was on TV, but I don’t know any of those things. Maybe it’s because there is something about me - I’m different. I don’t fit in neatly like the other puzzle pieces; my edges are jagged.
When a girl made fun of my shoes I learned it’s best not to talk about my home. Most days I stay by myself but I’m not always lonely. I waited for the perfect time to ask my mom about keeping my kitten, Grace. It came when my dad accidentally locked me out and I had to sleep on the porch. Sleeping outside was worth it because Mom let me keep Grace since she felt bad. Now Grace is my best friend, but she also gives me one more person to worry about when I’m not home.
The final turn onto my street has me quickening my steps. There are flashing lights and people everywhere. Approaching my building I see it’s our door that’s gaping wide open. I don’t know what to do, I want to curl up in a ball and hide but I want Grace more.
“Esme! Esme!” Mom runs toward me with Grace tucked under her arm.
All I want to do is reach for the cat but Mom’s hug traps me, “What happened Mom?”
Her frown gets bigger, “It’s your daddy. They are trying to help him, honey.”
“Help him do what?”
“He…,” she hesitates, “He is just really sleeping baby; they are going to try to wake him up.”
I know she is lying but I won’t push, “Can I please hold Grace?”
Finally, my mom hands me my best friend, I bury my face in her soft gray fur, seeking comfort. Grace’s warmth and steady purring anchor me in this chaotic moment. I just want to take her and run away from this place.
Age 16
In the years since my dad’s overdose, his mental deficits have complicated my life in so many ways. I know how it sounds but my parents could do better. The older I get the more I understand, most days I find it in me to show them love and care but some of it’s way too much to shoulder
Now that I’m older I truly realize how difficult my life has been - all the reasons I feel so different and alone. I’ve shuffled through foster homes like cards in a worn-out poker deck. My parents love me so before I can escape my reality they always find a way to pull me back in. They aren’t abusive but they’re trapped by their own demons - untreated mental illness and substance abuse.
They are devoted to each other but keeping up with their moods is like watching a tennis match. Most of the time they spend together they are blitzed out of their mind on drugs. When they’re lucid and let all their emotions in it’s almost worse than when they’re under the influence. The crushing weight of their mistakes starts the cycle over again. I feel like looking at me causes them more anguish than happiness.
Mom’s glassy eyes give away her high but I still bring her a bowl of soup. I don’t want them to starve and she won’t eat unless I put it in front of her.
They act like children and blame everything on each other, neither one of them can admit fault for anything. When Grace passed away while I was at school they wouldn’t explain. I’ve always felt there was something they wouldn’t tell me - just add that to the piles of secrets between us.
As I serve my mom’s dinner I see my Dad meandering down the hallway, “Dinner smells good,” he smiles.
“It’s just soup,” Mom retorts, sucking in her gaunt cheeks even more.
“Why do you do that to her? Tell her it’s just soup? It’s nice that she made us anything,” Dad says as he sits at the table.
Here we go again…
Mom sasses back, “I didn’t say anything bad to her.”
“You didn’t say anything good either,” he snarks pounding his bony fist on the table.
“Oh, and you’re one to talk…” Mom starts to raise her voice so step away and try to tune out.
When it comes to me they are always arguing over who loves me more. They don’t understand that I’d be happier if they would just get clean and live a normal life. When they argue I feel like a monkey in the middle, desperately trying to catch the ball. It’s dizzying.
After I bring my dad’s soup to the table I use their fight as cover to slip away down the hall into my room. I figured out it’s not a tiny bedroom - it’s a storage closet, but it’s my storage closet and at least they stay out of it.
I sit on the floor doing homework until my parent’s voices fade signaling that they’ve retired to their bedroom. They’ll probably reuse and pass out now, at least that gives me some space to be alone.
Every second that ticks by feels like a minute, minutes feel like hours. Watching my alarm clock tick helps me steady myself until the ticks become louder and louder. It takes me a few moments to realize, it’s my heart ramping up, breaths are heaving - I want to scream.
I’ve got to get out of here. Throwing some things into my backpack, I grab my schoolwork, best clothes, and other prized possessions before carrying my shoes down the hall. After successfully sneaking out the front door I sit on the front steps to put my shoes on.
Now what?
Putting my backpack over both arms I step out into the night. The light poles beaming their rays of hope out over the sidewalk are welcoming - like soft lights leading a path toward freedom. I’ve left a hundred times before but always go back. Not this time, right now it feels like this is finally it. Most of the times I went back it was to get Grace but now that she is gone I can’t imagine going back. I’m old enough to speak for myself now, I can figure this out.
When I get to the end of the block a bus is just pulling up onto the curb. Any wheels will be quicker than my feet so I decide to get on. Making my way to the back of the bus I quickly realize that there isn’t a seat available, at least not one that isn’t beside another person.
I’m about to backtrack to the front but I notice that one of the seats is next to a boy who looks about my age.
There is no guarantee there will even be a seat in the front of the bus so I take a chance, “Is this seat taken?”
He looks up and I’m almost knocked back by how handsome he is. His skin is pale but smooth and his eyes are so blue. His hair is a little longer than most boys I know only adding to his allure. But what really gets me is his smile.
“No, go ahead,” he replies.
I muster a smile and sit down. I swear I can feel him looking at me but boys are this enigma I haven’t even tried to understand. Life is complicated enough without adding dating to the mix. Keeping secrets from everyone at school has become a survival skill since I never wanted to garner extra attention. There is no way to get close to someone when you have to hide all your basic information.
A smooth voice chimes, “I’m Mika.”
“Oh sorry, I’m Esme, it’s nice to meet you,” I manage to say even though my face feels like it’s on fire.
Mika smiles, “Esme, that’s a pretty name.”
“Oh, thanks.” My face is as red as a tomato, I’m sure of it.
“Where are you headed?”
“I guess if I had my own car I’d be out for a drive, I just needed to clear my head,” I try to explain.
“Right, I get you,” he nods then smiles again revealing a dimple on his cheek that I wish I could unsee because it just made him that much cuter.
I’ve seen good-looking boys before, I even go to school with a lot of them but there is something about Mika that is making me feel… different. Not the regular different - a good kind of different.
“So… are you from around here?” Mika asks.
“Oh um, sort of. What school do you go to?”
It seemed like the right thing to ask but now I’ve jumped into a conversation with him, I hope I can hold my own.
He runs a hand through his hair before he says, “Eh, I could tell you if you really want to know but I’m trying to forget about school tonight.”
I don’t know if I want to tell him a lot about myself right now either, “Oh, that works for me.”
The bus stops at the next intersection and I scan the signs to try to get my bearings. I’m not that far from home, certainly not far enough to run away so I just stay seated.
“Hey Esme, sorry if that was… like…,” he seems to be at a loss for words.
“It’s okay, I understand, I don’t really want to talk about my life either,” I admit.
“Wow, something else we agree on,” he looks at me like I’m the moon, his eyes are big like saucers, and something about him seems… sweet.
“So, you’re trying to forget something,” he suggests.
“Sort of yeah or like move beyond it, it’s not the best at home and I guess that’s all I’m willing to say about that,” I laugh to lighten the mood.
“Whoa. You sort of just read my mind.”
I don’t think so because there is no way he knows what I’m running from but I’m just going to go with this, “So you just get on the bus to forget your troubles?”
“I guess that it has always helped me put things into perspective. There are so many different people in this city, I mean in the world you know? On the bus, you get to see a lot of different types of people.”
“I can see that.”
He lets out a little chuckle, “So I’m guessing this isn’t your usual process?”
“No, it was kind of just convenient,” I laugh.
“I’m glad you chose this bus,” he smiles convincingly.
I’m not sure what’s happening but I can feel my cheeks burning. I can’t make myself speak so there are a few moments of silence.
Mika leans confidently closer to me, “So Esme, I have this crazy idea…”
“Okay.”
“You’re pretty easy to talk to…,” he says like he’s suggesting something but I can’t figure it out so I just say, “Oh yeah, I could say the same about you.”
“So let’s get off this bus and go talk to each other… like let’s be really honest, we’ll probably never see each other again.”
My first instinct is to say no definitively but he’s right, what could it hurt? As long as I make sure we’re in a public place, maybe it would be good to get the opinion of someone I don’t know. It might help me figure out some things.
Plus, if I’m really not going to go home then I’m going to need to learn to trust some people or I’ll never make it.
“Where would we go?”.
“I don’t know, you can pick,” his blue eyes look soft and safe.
I smile at him and nod, as the bust rumbles along the street I watch out the window until I see a brightly lit diner. “There…,” I point out the window.
“It’s a deal,” he beams, “Let’s get off at the next stop.”
When the bus stops again I stand up and start to make my way off, I can feel him behind me the whole way down the aisle and I can’t help feeling excited. Besides the fact that he wants me to spill my guts, this is sort of like a date with the cutest boy I’ve ever seen.
