by Tia Souders
Her eyes held mine. The emotions I had been holding back over the past hour sparked inside my chest like a burning ember. Anger, confusion, pain, and fear battled for prominence, a war in my head only I could see. I glanced at Tad once more, noting the all-consuming grief written in the lines of his face, and it dawned on me, if June died I lost just as much, if not more.
I remained rooted to my spot in front of her as I tried to come to terms with everything I discovered. When she looked at me, I said, “You’re awake.”
“For now. I’m not being treated. There’s no point. They’ll be releasing me soon to hospice care.” Her brittle voice mingled with her shallow breathing, as if she forced both from her body with great effort.
“When we were at the house, Tad had me collect your documents. Your living will… I saw my file.”
June said nothing.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Tad’s narrowed eyes on my face. Did he know?
“Were you ever going to tell me?” I asked.
A rumbling bubbled from June’s chest, turning into a cough. She leaned forward, pressing a wad of tissues to her mouth. When she pulled her shaking hands away, the tissue was stained with blood.
Tad stood and moved in front of me. He took the soiled tissue from her and gently pressed a clean one into the palm of her hand. Once he sat back down, June looked up at me again and said, “Tad, do you mind if I have a moment with Sam?”
His eyes widened a fraction before he nodded, then left the room.
Once the door was closed, June cleared her throat. “I wasn’t sure how I would do things. The night you destroyed my property gave me the opportunity I needed.” Her words took time, tethered by a breathy whisper. “I wanted to see you again. To watch you and hear your voice. I wanted you to get to know Tad. He never knew about your maternity, but I spoke of you often, and he always looked up to you. Had you not befriended him, I would have finally come clean and told you everything. But when I saw the strength of the bond forming between you two, I didn’t want to jeopardize it. I also didn’t want you to feel an obligation to spend time with a dying woman, just to have her ripped away.” She paused, then said, “And maybe, a part of me was scared of what you might think.”
I shook my head, trying to take in everything. I had too many questions and little time for answers, but anger propelled me forward. “Why? How?”
“Your father can tell you—”
I snorted. “My father’s been lying to me for years, as long as it benefits him. He’s the last person I want to go to for answers.”
“The pregnancy was unexpected. I was nearing fifty, but my age had little to do with giving you up.” June paused, catching her breath before she continued. “They found the cancer in my sonogram. So, in a way, you saved my life. They hadn’t expected me to live much past my pregnancy. I gave you up because I couldn’t take care of a child while I was sick, and with the expectation that I would not live, you would have had to go to someone else.”
She paused, closing her eyes. For a moment she said nothing, and I wondered if she had just spoken her last words. Whether she would die right there. Maybe the pain of discussing the child she gave up might be too much for her in such a fragile state. She may have wanted to keep me. She may have wished she had. After all, for the first eight years of my life, June had been an integral part of it.
“Your parents… They tried for so many years to get pregnant. They were a nice young couple. When I explained my situation and inquired about adoption, they were ecstatic. It seemed like a win-win situation at the time. They would get a baby, and I wouldn’t entirely lose mine. I could watch you grow with whatever life I had left. I never expected to live this long. I was as shocked as anyone when I went into remission.”
I tried to imagine it. The couple next door, the only parents I had known my whole life, wanting a baby. Although the memories were fuzzy in my mind, I had once known the happy couple she spoke of. I hadn’t just imagined it. They were mine for eight years, before the death of my brother—their real son—and my mother’s chances of ever conceiving again.
“None of this makes sense,” I murmured, though it did.
“Your father can explain too. Make him. He loves you.”
Heat fisted in my stomach, a tight, fiery ball. What did she know of my father and his love for me? How could she possibly defend him? And had I not seen those papers, would I ever have found out the truth? Would I have received a handwritten letter from June after her death full of confessions? Did it even matter?
I said nothing, clenching my teeth until my jaw ached.
“You and Tad will have each other now. You need him as much as I know he will need you—”
I raised my hand in the air and closed my eyes, grateful for the silence. I couldn’t hear anything more. It was too much, and suddenly it felt as though someone had sucked all the oxygen from the room. My lungs burned and my eyes watered from the effort to breathe. I shook my head, needing air, and without warning, I turned and ran from the room, spilling into the hall. I bent over, my hands on my knees, panting. I tried to suck air into my lungs, but they constricted and my stomach heaved. Before I could stop it, my stomach pitched violently, expelling the remnants of my supper into a puddle on the floor.
22
I sat on the lid of a porcelain throne in the handicapped stall of one of the hospital’s restrooms, knees to my chest, my arms clenched securely around them. The retching stopped as abruptly as it had started in the hallway outside June’s room. I had been too wrapped up in my own thoughts to be embarrassed when the nurses came to my aid. Now, having had time to think over things, I felt bad for letting Tad leave the room. He should have been there for my conversation with June. After all, he was family.
I wasn’t sure how long I sat in the bathroom, chewing over the day’s events like cud. Maybe an hour. Maybe three. I kept reliving the shock of seeing my birth certificate for the first time. The image seared in my mind forever. The “unknown” typed in the space next to Father’s name bothered me most. Hours ago, I thought I knew everything there was to know about my life and my parents. I wasn’t happy with what I knew, but I never imagined not knowing could be even worse, and I couldn’t help but wonder how I had gone eighteen years without needing my birth certificate before now. But I guess being young meant your parents handled everything for you, and so I would’ve had no need for that kind of documentation. But what would they have done if I needed it at some point? Wouldn’t I have discovered the truth? Their lies were so thinly veiled, it was incredible I hadn’t already found out.
I thought about June’s decision to give me up, and as much as I hated to admit it, it made sense. Only, her plan backfired. She beat cancer, sending it into a long remission, and after my mother’s accident, my parents fell apart. Her daughter wound up in a dysfunctional family, no longer cherishing the daughter they had adopted long ago when they had no hope of conceiving.
I wondered if June eased the wounds of her guilty conscious by forming a relationship with me. And if so, how could she just abandon me when her son got sick? I realized he had been fighting for his life, but I was family, too, and she left me when I needed her most.
My thoughts shifted to my mother’s locket, the one I saw around her neck. How many times had she claimed I wasn’t her daughter in one of her drunken rants? How many times had I looked in the mirror over the years and wondered where I got my pale complexion, the shape of my nose, or the curve of my face? Should I have known? Even Laird tried to tell me the truth.
I shook my head. No. People don’t just wake up one day and conclude everything they had been told their whole life was a lie—they were the lie.
June said Tad and I had each other now. It had been true even before she said it, but now the discovery of my genealogy only strengthened the fact he and I were connected for life. Tomorrow evening, I would board a Delta airliner on a flight to New York City. How could I leave him while June lay dying next to him?
His impossibly innocent face filled my head—the brown eyes the same shade as June’s, his big glasses, and wide smile. He needed me. Could I just leave him when he needed me most? If I did, how am I any better than the people in my life?
When I thought of going to Juilliard, it seemed like a dream, something I wanted but would never attain. And at this moment, the notion seemed even more unattainable, as if it had somehow slipped away in my sleep. I had no idea where I stood, but I knew what I needed to do now.
I uncurled my arms and stretched out my legs. I had to talk to Tad.
* * *
I sat across from Tad in a semiprivate waiting room just off the halls of the hospice care floor where they had moved June an hour before. The sun sank low behind thick clouds, the flames finally extinguished as evening arrived and dusk settled over everything. I peered out at the parking lot from the third-floor window. So many cars occupied the spaces, their colors and shapes turning into muted shades and shadows, only illuminated by the occasional street lamp.
I explained everything to Tad. About my discovery. I was June’s daughter. I found myself forcing the words past my lips. They stuck a few times in my throat, and I had trouble believing them even as I recounted everything for the first time. But no matter how strange or difficult to comprehend, it was the truth.
I reiterated the things she said to me, taking care to explain in more detail the series of events that took place after my conception. Though explaining everything to him helped to sort out my emotions, it also left me with the bitter aftertaste of having been cast aside most of my life.
I turned away from the window. Tad’s gaze bore a hole in the table in front of us, but I remained silent, giving him time to let it sink in and react.
He glanced up at me, his dark eyes gleaming. “So, we’re related now, right?”
I nodded, even though the thought was still hard to believe.
“That would make us… what?”
The corner of my mouth lifted. “I’d be your aunt.”
“That’s so cool. You’re my aunt. I have an aunt.” A huge smile spread across Tad’s face, leaving no sign of the tension moments before. “And it’s you.” He chuckled.
I chortled. “Yeah, pretty cool,” I said, then turned my gaze to away from him. For some reason, I couldn’t explain, my eyes filled with tears. My throat ached and I found it hard to breathe.
Someone wanted me…
“This is totally weird.” I rubbed my hands over my face, clearing the moisture away.
“Weird in a cool way though.”
I laughed.
“Are you mad at her? For not telling you?”
I glanced back to the parking lot again, staring into the night as if it could provide answers. “I’m not really sure how to feel. I suppose I am. I’m mad at her for knowing the truth while my family, the one she left me with, fell apart. Part of me is angry she didn’t tell me six months ago but instead waited until she was on her deathbed.”
Tad nodded. “What would you have done, though, had you known sooner?”
“At least I would’ve had time to adjust, ask questions if I needed to. Learn more about myself and my real family.”
“She said you could ask your dad.”
“My father lies to me about everything. He hadn’t told me about this. I don’t know what makes her think now will be any different.”
Silence filled the space between us. Tad picked at the corner of a pamphlet on the table while I stared out into the hallway, trying to sort through my conflicting feelings. I knew how miserable Tad would be after June died. A part of me wished I could take him in. I’d graduate soon and could get a place on my own, but I knew it would never work. He had six more years of living to do before he could go anywhere with me. Plus, I was still practically a kid myself. Still, the thought of going to Juilliard and living so far away from him cut deep. What if he needed help? What if things got really bad for him at home? How could I leave him? I wasn’t sure I could.
I stood up, my chair scraping across the hard floor. One thing I knew for certain, it was time to meet with my father.
23
I sat at the large cherry table, surveying the dark kitchen. This was the only home I had ever known. For the past ten years, I had been made to feel like an inconvenience, a visitor almost, a handy tool for blame. Yet a part of me felt more like an outsider now than I ever had before. The scraping sound of my father’s key in the lock of the front door alerted my ears in the silence. The door creaked before his footsteps echoed in the hall outside the kitchen. When he appeared in the doorway, the sensation of unfamiliarity swept over me as my gaze assessed him.
He smiled slightly and came to a stop in front of the table. “Good news. You’re all set up for that class with The American Banking Institute. It starts the first week of May, which is perfect since you graduate right about then.”
I ignored the statement, giving it absolutely no consideration. No matter how many times I insisted I was taking no such class, he persisted anyway. I wasn’t sure what would happen when May rolled around and I refused to go, but those concerns would have to wait.
“I know, Dad. Or should I even call you that?” I asked, surprised at the relief I felt at saying it.
His gaze flickered to the floor and back to me again. His pupils dilated, and the response was so quick, I might have missed it if I hadn’t been watching him so closely.
He reached up to loosen the navy blue and white striped tie around his neck. “What are you talking about?”
A fire exploded in my chest. “Stop pretending. Just for one minute, try and be honest with me. I found my birth certificate. I know the truth. June is my real mother.”
His jaw hardened. “What do you want me to say?”
“Something. Anything. Why don’t you start by explaining why you never told me?”
“Children are adopted all the time, and the parents keep it a secret. We just thought it was easier. Sandra, your mom and I, wanted a baby more than anything. When we had the chance to take you, it felt right. We wanted you to be ours.”
“How cozy,” I snarled.
I crossed my arms in front of my chest, staring at him. A question nagged at the back of my mind. One I had asked myself repeatedly over the past hours after I found out June was my mother. “A few months after the accident, June told me I couldn’t see her anymore. She made me stop visiting.”
His gaze left my face and darted to the floor. “It’s my understanding that her son was ill. She had to take him and his family in for a while.”
“She told me the same thing, but I don’t buy it. There was something more to it, and something tells me you had a hand in her turning me away.”
Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. “This is crazy.”
“Why? Because I’m right?”
“You have no idea.” His voice rose. “You were over there constantly. Every second I turned around, you were running over there to her.” His eyes glazed over as if he were reciting the memories to himself. “She confronted me and said she didn’t think you were living in a healthy environment, that she didn’t like what was going on with Sandra. She practically accused me of neglect. I felt threatened. I thought maybe she was going to try to take you from us even though it would never have held up in court. So, I threatened her. Told her she’d better stay out of your life, and I promised if she had any further contact with you, we’d move. I told her I’d up and leave, taking you with us, and she’d never get to see you again. I told her she’d have to spend the rest of her life wondering what you were up to and what became of you.”
My mouth gaped. Inside, I already knew he had something to do with it, but his confession left me speechless. Threatening June had to have been an all-time low, even for him.
He put his hands on his hips, his tone defensive. “I didn’t want to lose you. Everything I’ve ever done has been to not lose you.”
I shook my head. “You’re wrong. You h
aven’t. Because when you and Mom became pregnant, you were ecstatic. Then, when you lost Michael, it was as if I only existed to cause you more grief. All you did was push me away. I had my own grief to deal with, yet you wanted nothing to do with me.”
“That’s ridiculous.” The vein in his forehead pulsed, and I wondered why he responded to everything with anger.
“Is it? Why then, when all you ever wanted was a child, did you cast me aside after the accident? At least after a while, Mom had her alcoholism as an excuse. But what was yours? You wanted a child and you had one. You didn’t have to lose me.”
I pushed back from the table and stood, suddenly sure of the question I had wanted to ask him all along. “Why was I never enough? If you wanted a child, then why wasn’t having me enough? I guess I just don’t understand why, if you didn’t want to lose me, you spent the last ten years casting me aside.”
* * *
Morning came as always. It seemed somehow wrong how time didn’t even so much as pause for a second when so much had happened in the past twenty-four hours. After the talk with my father, I returned to the hospital and spent the night in the waiting room of the hospice floor. Tad hadn’t wanted to leave June, fearing the worst would happen the second he left. So, I slept in the cramped room on the beaten sofa with Tad curled up at my feet.
I woke to the sound of his soft sobs, and I knew exactly how he felt—the dawning when you first woke and realized yesterday really happened, and the things you feared in your nightmares were a reality. Waking brought him the fresh realization June lay dying in the next room, while it reminded me of the lies my life had been built upon.
Sunlight poured through the windows next to me, forcing me to squint. Laird would arrive any minute, and I couldn’t be more grateful. I needed a few moments reprieve from this sad place.
