" Kid, you gotta be kidding me." Logan said as he shook his head in disbelief and looked away with his hands in his worn jean's pockets.
" I'm really not. Here, I have a copy of his will. Give me a sec." I said, more excited than I have ever been in these past few weeks as I ran up to my room and dug through my drawers trying to remember where I put it. I soon found it and ran back down to the living room where he stood silently observing the pictures of me and my dad on the mantlepiece. " Here." I said, holding the paper out to him.
He tore his intense gaze from the picture of me and my father biking and took the paper from my hold. His lips moved as he silently read the will, the furrow in his brows getting deeper and deeper as he kept reading. After about a minute of staring at the will which had only taken him about 15 seconds to read, he looked up at me and chuckled with disbelief.
" This is bullshit. I'm not going to be a father to no one." he said before shoving the will back in my hands and turning away to walk out.
" No! It's not, I swear! You know that this is Owen's house. You know that he died! Why would I make this up!?" I began to almost scream, desperation trailing my words for him to believe me. I planned to do anything to make him accept this.
" I don't know, kid. You tell me." he finally made it to the door and had opened it. I could feel my bottom lip begin to quiver with anger and tears stinging the hell out of my eyes when he turned back around with a sigh. " Look, your better off without me anyways, okay?" and just like that, my only hope of avoiding foster parents had just walked out of the door and into the night's darkness.
.....Don't go Mr.Logan. That's what I should've said. I should've gotten on my knees and held onto his long legs and begged him not to go. I should've begged him to take me into his life, even if he wasn't all that great. But no, I didn't have the guts to.
Slowly closing the front that he left open, tears began to roll down my cheeks without my consent. I locked it and found myself slowly dropping to the floor, all hope for me leaving with Logan. Running my hands through my dark hair, I silently prayed to my father with the tears and anger cracking my voice every now and then.
" Dad, why'd you have to leave me all by myself? Dad, please help me. Please....." but that's as far as my small prayer went before I began sobbing once again, furious with myself that I couldn't be stronger like my dad who had always kept his head up even in the worst of times.
So here I am, 7:08 a.m on a Sunday morning, already packing my things. My tears dropped on everything I practically packed, my clothes, my books, pictures, toiletries, and my diary. I didn't take anything that wasn't necessary since I would only be with foster parents for a year before I turn 18. I finished packing close to 9' clock, so I decided to cook one of me and my dad's favorite, chicken soup. So simple, just like us. It fitted both of our personalities and we made it together. My salty tears dropped into the soup as I stirred it around on our electric stove. I spooned a small portion into a glass bowl that we had picked out together at a small store and sat at our small breakfast nook. I quickly put some into my mouth, only to be burned a second later.
" Ah!" I hissed and the hot soup fell out of my mouth and back into the bowl with the rest of the soup. My spoon fell to the side of the bowl, causing the small chunks of soup that still sat on the spoon to fly everywhere on the nook. " This is just great."
I grabbed a cloth off of the counter and began to wipe the nook down when the doorbell rang. My heart began to beat rapidly, hoping that it was not time to leave my home and join someone else's family. I quickly turned around to glance at the clock.
" 9:13. Can't be yet. I got about 6 more hours." I said to myself as I tossed the cloth aside and made my way to the door. Standing on my tippy toes, I looked through the peep hole and I began to do little jumps. " Yes, Yes, Yes!" I whispered ecstaticly as butterflies flew throughout my stomache.
I pulled the door open without hesitation and looked at him with a huge smile. He stood there with a defeated look on his face as he stuck his hands in the pockets of the same worn jeans he wore last night.
" You came back!!" I gushed out and found myself slightly embarassed at my giddyness as his hazels eyes looked into mine, causing me to look away still grinning.
" I guess it's the least I could do for Owen...." he said uncomfortably and walked inside, seating himself on a loveseat that was placed against the window. " So, how do I do this guardian thing?" he said, looking angry and curious at the same time as he leaned back into the brown suede loveseat. He sighed and looked around the living room as if he had never been here before.
" Uhm, the agent guy will be here around 3 and I think you just have to sign a few papers." I said excitedly as I made my way back to the kitchen. I called back, " Can I get you anything? I just cooked some soup."
" Do you have a beer?" he asked, sounding worn down and exhausted. I glanced through the small window that sat on top of the breakfast nook that looked into the living room. Logan was standing up and looking at the photos once again. What was so interesting about them? Well, maybe because he hasn't seen my dad, Owen, in a while.
" Uhm, no, sorry. Is there anything else you'd like?" I asked, trying to sound as nice and polite as I could, not wanting to get him angry and refuse to be my guardian.
" I should've known, your dad was never much a drinker." he said lowly as he kept his stare on the photos, searching each one like a detective of some sort. Tearing his eyes away, he looked at me. " No, I'm fine."
" I just cooked some soup. Are you hungry?" I asked curtiously with a soft smile, trying to warm up to the guy who was practically a stranger to me.
" No." he said sharply, as if it was a command. The quickness in his response made me jump a little, but I took a deep breath and swallowed the saliva that was building up in my mouth.
" Uhm....do you want to wat-" I began as my polite smile started to form again, but his head quickly turned to me, his hazel eyes as hard and icy as the ice at skating rinks.
" Kid, I told you that I'm fine." he said harshly, those eyes still burning thorugh mine. I froze in my position and suddenly couldn't find the strength to walk away or move. His eyes seemed to be glued to mine, but then he looked away back at the pictures. " You have your dad's eyes."
I slowly let out the breath I had been holding and looked away as I felt my cheeks begin to burn.
" Yeah, I get that a lot." I chuckled, feeling silly that I kept trying to offer him things when we barely had any food or drinks in the kitchen except for canned goods and water.
Sighing, I gave up on trying to talk to Logan and sat myself in front of cooled down soup. Forgetting that I had spit the contents of the scalding soup back into the bowl, I began eating it again, trying to keep my composure in front of the stranger who would be taking care of me for the next year or so.
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