Another Home

They're almost there yet it hasn't started raining.

Bloom gazes out the window at the cloudless bright blue sky and the sun fixed right in the middle of it, bathing the surroundings with warm yellow rays and turning the view from the window into a blur of green trees and yellow sunlight. She can feel the warmth outside from her cheek pressed against the window although it feels nice, she still wants it to rain.

Her eyes are locked on the sky waiting for a sudden weather change, for dark clouds to emerge, fill the sky and cover up the sun, for the low rumbling of thunder to sound from the sky and for the raindrops to start falling. Nothing happens even after minutes of staring; the sky is still cloudless, and the sun is still shining warmly.

It's the first time this has ever happened, the first time it isn't raining when she's moving to a new foster home.

For some strange reason, each of her journeys from one foster home to another is always characterized by rainfall, whether it's a light shower or a typhoon in the works, as long as she's changing homes, it always rains.

Bloom started noticing it when she was six, the thundering rain pounding on the roof of the car each time a social worker came to take her to a new home. She started expecting it when she was ten like a guessing game, she'd stare out the window wondering if it would rain or not and it always did. he started waiting for it when she was twelve like she was waiting to greet an old friend.

Bloom has watched it rain through the windows of moving cars more times than she can count that at this point counting raindrops can be classified as one of her hobbies.

For the first time in eleven years, it isn't raining despite Bloom being on her way to yet another foster home. Instead, of the cool and cloudy weather she's used to watching, the weather outside is perfect.

The kind of weather that everyone always looks forward to, one that's not too hot or too cold, not too humid, or too dry, not too windy, or too sunny; it's just right.

It's the kind of weather that makes you want to go out and take a walk or go to the beach or wake up and think today will be a good day.

Maybe this is supposed to be a good sign, you know one of those coincidental happenings that feels like the universe is trying to tell you something, Bloom thinks that's what the sudden nice weather today is supposed be.

The first sunny day after always experiencing years of rain, doesn't that just scream 'I'm a sign from the universe'? and it's supposed let her know that things are about to change, that something good is going to happen, that things might be different this time.

It's supposed to give her hope.

Bloom doesn't fall for it.

Apart from the fact she doesn't believe in such things, she'd learnt not to expect things from others especially something illusory as the universe.

It's just a deceptive hope that tries to worm its way into your head to build up your expectations only to have it crushed by cold hard reality.

She's seen it come in all forms of shapes and sizes, in fake smiles and kind words, in false promises and hidden agendas and after getting hurt over and over again she's completely immune to it.

Immune to hope and pain.

"We're almost there, Bloom." Max says from the driver's seat.

Bloom looks away from the window, her light blue eyes meeting his brown eyes in the rear-view mirror, Max is the social worker who's been in charge of her for the past year and who she tries not to give a hard time to by trying to communicate, because apparently not being talkative means giving someone a hard time.

All in all, she thinks Max a pretty nice guy so she tries.

Max's eyes alternate between looking at the road and the mirror. "You remember right?" Despite her nodding, Max goes on to repeat it again. "Your foster parent this time is a single dad with two kids. His children are pretty young, so you'll be the oldest one. Try to get along with them."

Bloom nods even though they both know she won't try at all. Socializing and talking to people isn't exactly her thing, she already finds it hard to carry on conversations so her taking the initiative to start one is just wishful thinking.

"I've also handled your school procedures as well so you can start school next week." Max adds.

It's on the tip of her tongue to point out that she doesn't need to go to school but she stops herself knowing fully well that not many people want to foster teenagers. It will be even harder to find a home for if she's just going to be in the house all day without going to school.

She's learnt not to expect too much from others when even her own parents didn't want her.

No matter how much she dislikes the thought of going to school again she has to do it, because right now she doesn't call the shots in her life, she still needs to depend on others for food and shelter and fending for herself isn't even an option, she isn't considered an adult yet.

Luckily, she's already in her senior year so all she has to do is hold on till graduation which is going to be a lot harder than it sounds.

Bloom leans her head against the window and closes her eyes preparing herself for everything that awaits once the car comes to a stop, from meeting her new foster parent down to starting her life over again in a new place.

There were times when she looked forward to meeting a new foster family and living in a new place, times when she got excited heading to a foster home that the social workers always promised was safe and had a family who couldn't wait to meet her.

There were times she felt happy and excited, times she felt nervous, times she felt scared or days like today when she feels nothing at all.

...….

The car slows down and pulls into an empty driveway before Max kills the engine and they both sit in silence.

This is the time when Max starts giving her advice and telling her what to do and what not to do; like the pep talk a parent gives their child before sending them off to school for the first time though in their case it's a social worker sending an orphan off to a new home for the forty-fifth time.

Max unfastens his seat belt and turns to face her with a smile that looks a little forced in her eyes. "I know you're tired of all the moving around and I know it hasn't been easy for you, but I want you to try," he pauses for a second before adding, "I want you try and make this your last foster home, okay?"

When he puts it that way it makes it seem like she's the one at fault for all the changed foster homes, like she enjoys moving from place to place without really having anywhere to call home. There were some social workers who thought so and some who said it right to her face, but Bloom knows that's not what Max means, he's saying this because he cares.

"OK." She says softly.

Bloom didn't need Max to tell her that, she'd already decided to make this her last foster home before she turns eighteen and can finally have control over her life and be free.

Max stares into her eyes for a second like he's searching for something, before a smile curves his lips. He curls his fingers into a fist and stretches it out to her. Bloom forms a fist and bumps it against his, it had somehow become a routine between them.

"He must be waiting, let's go and don't forget to smile."

Bloom ignores the last part and gathers up her things, all her belongings fit into a backpack and a duffel bag that Max takes from her once she steps out of the car. A warm breeze brushes her cheeks and sends her black hair fluttering around her.

Her eyes scan the place, the front yard is small and leads up to the front steps of a small blue house up ahead that has a small garden that isn't being maintained very well and is decorated with potted plants.

Bloom follows behind Max as they walk up to the front door inhaling the smell of dirt and fresh flowers wafting from the plants.

Bloom stands back and lets Max ring the doorbell while her eyes roam around, they finally rest on the window of the next house where someone is staring down at her from.

The person pulls the curtains closed before she can get a good look at who they are, and the door of the house swings open at the same time.

Bloom peels her gaze off the window and let's it rest on the smiling face of the man who opened the door.

'They're always smiling at the beginning' she thinks.