She still remembered the day they first formed this unbreakable bond. She had just been placed into a foster family at the tender age of five, and as foster family tradition, went out for an ice dream on a Tuesday night. It was chilly, and Christmas was just around the corner. Lights made up for the gloomy winter nights, and carols were sung everywhere. She remembered buying chocolate ice cream, and her foster brother, whose name she yet had to learn, bought black current. As they walked down the street back to their modest house, their foster parents infront of them, kissing and hugging, they walked in an awkward silence.
That’s when his ice cream fell on the snow.
He began kicking at the snow and stamping on the ice cream in anger, fuming with rage. Their foster parents looked back and shook their heads, yelling at him impatiently to stop for a minute before giving up and continuing to walk home. He of course, was mad and wouldn’t stop displaying it. That was before she offered him her ice cream. Granted, chocolate wasn’t his favourite flavour. But the act of the little girl, in her hello kitty sweater, offering him her ice cream was enough to calm him down. He stopped stamping at the snow, and looked at the little girl in wonder. Why would she offer him ice cream? He didn’t know. People hadn’t been so kind to him, ever. But here she was, this girl, a stranger, ready to share her ice cream with a boy she barely knew.
And that was how they spoke for the first time. They ate the ice cream together on the porch, and then went into the room that they shared to talk a little more. He told her about his abusive family, and how a concerned cop had placed him into foster care until a family member agreed to take care of him, which he believed (and rightly so) would never happen. She told him about not remembering much, but that she woke up in a hospital to learn her parents were gone in a car crash and that she probably forgot stuff due to the head trauma. They shared stories and memories and their greatest fears, all in one night. He told her about the bullies and his love for soccer, and how he would never, ever, love anything more than he loved Manchester United. He told her about the foster parents using the allowances for them for other luxuries, but how they were much better than his real family and had no squirms about staying with them. She told him about her fear of all insects and invertebrates, and her passion towards medical science – which changed into aviation in a little over a week – and her dream of flying and going to Disneyland one day. She told him that she was scared of being alone and had nightmares and he assured her that she wouldn’t have to be alone and that demons didn’t really exist.
They grew up together. They lived through each other’s first crush and first heartbreak, a major house fire and a racist riot in the neighbourhood together, bringing them closer with every passing day. And oh, Tuesdays remained to be the day where they shared an ice cream religiously.