Anywhere But Here

Chapter One

Following Aunt Franki up the walk, I stepped onto the porch, taking a second to admire the neat, two-story house.  It wasn’t hard to tell, even for someone like me who didn’t usually notice these sorts of things, that the house had been painted recently - probably before the holiday season.

The cute little window boxes were full of snow but I was certain Aunt Franki would have them bursting with colorful blooms as soon as Mother’s Day rolled around and the area was safe from frost.

“Come on in,” Aunt Franki invited as she shoved the hunter green door open, stomping snow off her boots before stepping inside.

I carefully wiped the muck from my
own boots, not wanting to track mud on the gleaming hardwood floors, and turned toward a staircase just to the right of the door.

“This
way, Rena,” Aunt Franki directed, bypassing the stairs, headed for the kitchen, instead.

With a shrug, I trailed
behind her, half listening to her explanation.

“
I thought you’d like to have the basement bedroom since it’s a little more private.  There's a bathroom down there, too.  It’s small but it works. But if you think you’ll be more comfortable in the spare room, then we can move the computer and all the other stuff out of there,” she called over her shoulder as she stopped at a door to put the boxes she’d been carrying down.  She opened the door and flipped a switch, bathing the stairs in light.  “I had the neighborhood boys come over to move some things around a bit. They’re good guys – they’ve offered to cut the grass for me all summer and help with shoveling snow.”

Behind her back, I rolled my eyes.  It sounded to me like Aunt Franki was trying
to force some friends down my throat.  I had no desire to make friends.

The finished basement was cool
and my interest perked. I hadn’t had the opportunity to see Aunt Franki’s house since she’d moved in this past September so everything was new to me.

She led me through
a large family room, complete with fireplace, low ceilings, and a small television, to a solid oak door before dropping her boxes again with a smile.  She turned the door knob and thrust it open grandly, like revealing a priceless work of art, and hit a light switch.

Stepping inside, I
gasped.  The stone walls had been painted a bright shade of orange while an off white carpet covered the floor.  The room wasn’t huge, but it was nothing to balk at, either.

She’d furnished it with
a double bed (tucked under a high window), two dressers, a bookcase, and a desk.  I stood in the middle of the room and turned slow circles, the first genuine smile I’d been able to muster in months slipping on my face.

“This is cool,” I said as I admired the white blades of the ceiling fan.  “Really cool.”

“I remembered orange was your favorite color,” Aunt Franki explained.  “This used to be a storage room but it was the biggest room down here, except for the family room, and I thought you’d love it.” 

“I do, thanks,” I said as I continued to take in my new room.  The bedspread and the matching curtains were
a brown and orange striped pattern.  Mom would never allow me a room like this in her pristine home.

“Let’s get the rest of your things so you can get settled,” Aunt Franki said as I snapped back to attention.  “Then I’ll order pizza and we can watch reality shows tonight.”

We tromped through the slushy driveway to retrieve the rest of my stuff from the back seat of my Honda, the cold air nipping at our noses.  As I was loading up, grabbing the last of my meager belongings, a loud voice startled me, nearly causing me to drop everything into a huge puddle I’d been trying to skirt.

“Yo, Franki!” 

“Hey, fellas,” Aunt Franki responded.  “How was your weekend?”

“Great.
” The reply came from a face I couldn’t see due to the boxes blocking my vision.  “How did the room go over?”

“A smashing success, just like I said.”

“Here, let me help you,” the first, bellowing voice said.  A pair of large hands snatched two boxes off the stack I’d been balancing.

“I don’t need help,” I snapped
as the face finally came into view.  His expression froze for a brief second before the green eyes brightened and an amused smirk prodded the lips.  I rolled my eyes and brushed past him, toward the house, without a thank you. 

“Thanks, boys,” Aunt Franki murmured behind me in a fee
ble voice.  I’d embarrassed her even after all she’d done for me.  A bit of guilt ate at me but that little anger-demon perching on my shoulder – the one that was now my constant companion - chased it away.

I hurried to my new room
and set down the boxes.  I wished I could run and hide from the others but there wasn’t anywhere really to escape.  I didn’t want to endure introductions and explanations and the hope that I’d make a new friend on Aunt Franki’s face.  I just wanted to unpack, play nice with Aunt Franki for a while before crawling into my new bed. I was supposed to start school in the morning and that was going to take a ton of mental preparation.

With nowhere to hide, I plopped
on the bed, sighing, as I waited, listening for the voices.  I wondered what was taking so long or if perhaps Aunt Franki was filling them in on my pathetic life and the sad, tragic reasons why I’d come to live with her.  I honestly didn’t think she would.  She had promised me that I could start over fresh – that no one would know me or my family in this minute map dot of a town. She’d only inherited the house over the summer and had spent weeks refinishing the floors and painting the walls, intent on selling it.  She'd fallen in love with it just as she had the little town, and decided to keep it, thinking she’d use it on the weekends when she did art shows at the art gallery near the lake. When I’d gotten myself in a bit of trouble, Aunt Franki had talked my parents into letting me live with her for the remainder of the school year - telling them that I could use a change of scenery. 

I sighed again, a little heavier.  I was going to have to make some sort of effort.  I was going to have
to show my appreciation better.  Aunt Franki had sold her Chicago condo to move to this tiny tourist town in southern Michigan permanently in order to give me some semblance of normal life. She had high hopes that I'd be allowed to finish my last year of high school as normally as possible.

“Just set the boxes down here, boys,” Aunt Franki instructed.  The boys did as she asked and piled the boxes right outside the door.  “Give Rena a little room to work.”

“The orange is pretty rad, huh?” my ‘helper’ asked - the taller one with the black beanie covering his head.

Did people actually say ‘rad’ around here?  Especially teenagers?

“Sure,” I muttered as I got to my feet, cramming my hands into my pockets.  I gave the boys a quick once over and deemed them as skater types before turning my back on them to rifle through a box.

“Rena,” Aunt Franki said, forcing me to face her again.  “This is Damon and Shane.  They live in the neighborhood.”

Damon, the ‘rad’ boy, smirked and nodded at me.  I returned the gesture.

“Hey, thanks for the help, guys,” Aunt Franki said.  “I’m going to give Rena a little time to get settled.  I’m sure you’ll get the chance to get to know her soon as she’s starting school tomorrow.”

“No problem, Franki,” Damon said.  I glanced over my shoulder in time for his salute, rolled my eyes, and returned to my task.  I heard him and his friend thunder up the stairs like a herd of wild elephants. Once peace in the basement was restored, I relaxed.

“Nice boys,” Aunt Franki said as she pushed a box in
to the room with the toe of her boot.  “I kept my promise, Rena – I didn’t tell them anything.  No one around here knows a thing.”

“Okay,” I mumbled as I grabbed a handful of books to arrange on the bookshelf beside the door.  “Thanks.  Um, sorry – I didn’t mean to be rude or anything.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Aunt Franki said in a soft voice.  “I told you that I’d give you some time and space.  I know what you’ve gone through.  That’s why I wanted you here.”

I nodded as tears
welled up in my eyes.  I swallowed extra hard to stifle them, forcing my concentration on the book spines as I shoved them on the shelves.

“But, honey, you need to let people in - don’t shut out the world.  People do care, believe it or not.”
Her pleading voice did little to melt the ice around my heart.  I didn’t want to care about people and I didn’t want people to care about me.

“Yep,” I said, my lips clamped firmly shut.  I wasn’t ready to talk, not even to Aunt Franki.

“If you need my help, give me a holler,” Aunt Franki said.  I just nodded.

Once I heard the door at the top of the stairs close, I sank to the bed, fighting the urge to curl into a ball and squeeze my eyes shut.  How easy it would be, really.  Shut out the light, lock the door
, and disappear into a haze of nothingness. The little bottle of vodka I had stashed with my underwear would help.  Or the peppermint schnapps. 

I shook my head furiously as I pushed off the bed and returned to the bookshelf.  I’d promised myself I’d start fresh here.  I promised I wouldn’t mess up again.  I’d always loved Aunt Franki – she was the fun aunt who always had gum a
nd listened to good music.  She’d rescued me from the House Where Gloom Lived and I could never express my gratitude.

But I wasn’t grateful to anyone else, nor did I need them.  I was here to finish school in a peaceful house where no one jumped down your throat if you picked up the cordless phone and no one looked disappointed when they realized it was only you walking through the door.

Pushing the dreary thoughts from my head, I got to work on my room. I managed to empty the boxes on my own – filling the dressers and shoving pens and paper in the desk drawers. When I finally reached the last box – the one marked ‘Fragile’ - my heart began to pound in my chest.  I slid to the floor and placed the box in my lap.  I didn’t want to look inside even though I was quite aware of the contents. 

“Don’t be such a pathetic loser,” I chanted and plunged my arm inside.  I withdrew a
BoyzTown CD and grinned, admiring the frozen faces on the cover.  I set it aside and continued my plundering. The next item I removed was a pink pencil with purple peace signs, complete with teeth marks and a worn eraser.  That joined the CD next to my leg.

The final item in my treasure trove was a tiny, china ballet dancer frozen forever in a pirouette
on top of a round stage that turned slowly to a tinkling tune.  Her fluffy pink tutu was slightly dusty but the smile on her face was one of pure joy.  Standing on my toes, I carefully placed the ballerina on the top shelf of the bookcase – the empty shelf.  She deserved her own space.

The CD and the pencil I shoved under my pillow then gathered the empty boxes and stacked them neatly outside my bedroom door.  I brushed the back of my jeans off and glanced at my watch.  It had only taken me an hour and a half to unpack – what did that say about my life?

It didn’t matter, really.  I still had plenty of clothes, CDs, and other things back home, but I didn’t want or need them here.  That life no longer appealed to me - the life where the most important things in the world were having the latest fashions and the coolest music.  I’d almost left my cell phone back there, too, but thought Aunt Franki might like for me to have it here.  I knew all too well how panicky adults got if they didn’t know where kids were and couldn’t get a hold of them.