‘We know it’s not,’ said Caitlin, ‘but we thought, maybe, if we’re offering to take an older child – we’d prefer that, ahead of a baby – it might not take as long.’
‘You don’t want a newborn?’ Laura looked surprised.
‘Not especially,’ said Caitlin. ‘I mean, when I first started thinking about this, it was to get a baby. But now we really are committed to the idea. We want to give a needy child a loving home. And I know that not everyone wants an older child. Everyone wants a baby. And that seems really sad to me. So, we would take an older child.’
Laura looked at Colby, and said, ‘Thoughts?’
Colby nodded. ‘Sure. Whatever she wants.’
‘Well, that’s good to hear.’ Laura pressed the tips of her manicured fingernails together, like she was in prayer. ‘Because you’re right. Normally, the first thing I hear is, we want a newborn. A shiny little baby. And since everyone wants a baby, everyone has to join the queue. Things move a bit quicker when it’s an older child. But make no mistake: it’s still no walk in the park. If I’m reading the two of you correctly, and I think I am, you’re thinking, “Oh, okay, there’s plenty of older kids that need a home, and nobody wants them, and we’re a nice couple and we’ve got a big house” – I’m guessing, looking at the car you drove up in, that you’ve got a big house – “so we’ll be fine.” But let me tell you, even with all that in your favour, this is still no walk in the park.’
‘We do know that,’ said Caitlin. ‘I understand there’s a wait.’
Laura shook her head. ‘It’s not just the waiting,’ she said, ‘it’s the process. It’s involved. Again I’m guessing, but my guess is you came in here thinking you’re going to handle this problem the same way you’ve handled every other problem in your life: by throwing money at it. Looking at the two of you, I can see that thought going through your heads. And that’s good! You should be prepared to throw money at it. But if your experience to date has been that once you throw money at a problem it gets solved, you’re in for a shock. You’ll be throwing money at this problem, and it’s not going to be enough. There are hoops to jump through. You’re going to have to do what they call a Home Study. That’s quite an exercise, writing your family histories, and telling the orphanage all about the kind of parents you want to be. Then comes the paperwork. There’s a million forms to fill out, and we need copies of birth certificates, wedding certificates, social-security numbers, passports, you name it, and every one of those forms has to be ticked in the right box. And just when you’re starting to think, this is ridiculous, how much more do we need to do … guess what? There will be even more to do. Do you hear what I’m saying?’
Colby nodded, but his foot had started to jiggle. ‘What sort of timeframe are we talking about?’ he asked. ‘Six months, a year?’
‘It can take six months,’ Laura said, nodding. ‘And it can take a year. It can take more than a year. What country are you thinking of going to?’
‘Russia,’ said Caitlin, and Colby nodded.
‘Because you want a blond? A child that looks like it might actually belong to you, am I right?’ Laura said.
Caitlin laughed nervously. ‘It’s not just that,’ she said. ‘The baby – the child – doesn’t have to actually look like us. It’s just, when we talked about it, we thought, “Do we want a situation where we have a little girl from China, or a little boy from China, and who’s obviously not ours, and people are asking every five minutes about who the real parents are?” That can’t be good. How does she, or how does he, ever feel like he belongs?’
Laura nodded. ‘As it happens, I agree with you. Not everyone would but I do. I’ve seen it happen to people: they’ll be walking along with a little girl from China and everyone stops to stare. It’s not as bad as it used to be a few years ago, but it’s still pretty bad.’
‘It’s not that we don’t want anyone to know,’ said Caitlin, ‘but we don’t want to have to tell everyone our business, either.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Laura, ‘but you should know this. Of all the countries we – by which I mean, us here in the United States – are taking children from, Russia is the toughest. Meaning, the slowest. We think they’ve come a long way since the Wall came down. They’re supposed to be democratic. But they don’t have proper computers. They’re not fully connected. And yet people want to go there. It’s their first choice. And we all know why. The kids are blond. The kids are cute. But let me be clear: your files – meaning, all the forms you fill out – will have to be sent to Russia inside a manila folder. Then they’ll get lost in the post. Not literally but you get the idea. Then the official in charge of your case will lose part of it. Then she’ll go on holiday. So, with Russia, you’re going to have to be patient. With everyone, you’ve got to be patient, and especially with Russia. And because the children are white and everyone wants white children, that makes it slower, too. And I can see the two of you sitting there calmly, and you’re nodding at me like you understand, but that’s here and now, and we haven’t even started the process yet. So, I want to say now: when things are going slow, you won’t be taking it out on me. I imagine you’re used to balling people out, Mr Colbert? Am I right? I bet I’m right. You’re used to firing people when things don’t get done. That won’t be happening with me. I will assemble your file exactly the way it needs to be assembled. I will dot every i and cross every t and sign on every dotted line. Your paperwork will be in and out of this office as fast as I’m able to handle it, and there will still be delays, but those delays will not be because of me. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
Caitlin looked over at Colby. He was smiling the smile he kept for those occasions when he was highly amused. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘That actually sounds pretty good to me. What you’re saying is, I pay your fee, and in return you’ll be working hard for the money that I’m paying – am I right?’
‘I’ll be working hard for the money,’ Laura agreed. She’d changed her accent, and was using a voice like Donna Summer’s.
‘Hard for the money,’ Colby said, mimicking the song.
‘That’s right,’ said Laura. ‘You’ve got it in one.’ They were both grinning now.
‘Okay,’ said Colby, ‘that sounds pretty good. That’s all I’m ever looking for: somebody who works hard for the money. You’re telling me you can do that. So, where do we sign?’
Laura swivelled in her chair. It was so large that when she turned, all Caitlin could see was the back of it, and not the top of Laura’s head. But she could see that Laura had opened the bottom drawer of a maple filing cabinet behind her.
‘Russia, Russia,’ she said. One manicured nail was going through the file tabs.
‘Okay,’ she said, selecting a file, ‘here’s everything you need. Inside here, you’ll find our contract – the one between you and me, with all my fees set out – and everything you’re going to need to do, from the Russian side. You take this home, and you treat it like homework, and you do it like the biggest girly swot in your class would have done it: you read everything. You fill out everything perfectly. You sign everything. They’re going to want your names. Your mothers’ maiden names. Your mothers’ mothers’ maiden names. Your bank accounts. Your passports. Everything, three times, and triple-checked. And when it’s done, you bring it back here, and I’ll go over it a fourth time. And then, when we’re sure that you’ve got it right, we’ll go over it again. We don’t want it coming back after six months with a note saying, “Page 36 not signed.” So, you do everything they ask you to do, and you do it twice. And, in the meantime, you cut me a cheque. Ten thousand dollars. You make it out to “From Russia (and China) With Love”. I’ve put a card in there.’ She tapped the folder with her nail.
Caitlin took the manila folder off the table and hugged it to her chest. ‘I’ll get straight onto it.’
‘Good,’ said Laura. ‘The sooner I get it back, the sooner you get on the plane. The sooner you’re on the plane, the sooner you pick
up your child. The sooner you pick up your child, the sooner you’re home in America, living the dream.’
Laura had done plenty of these interviews with prospective parents, and this was usually the point at which they relaxed a bit and smiled at each other, but with Caitlin and Colby, the opposite happened. Colby had been grinning, but now he was frowning, and Caitlin was looking down at her hands.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Laura.
‘Now we have a problem,’ said Colby.
‘What problem?’ asked Laura.
‘My wife can’t fly.’
Laura looked at Caitlin. ‘She can’t fly?’
‘No,’ said Caitlin, and Colby said, ‘Yes.’ Laura looked confused.
‘My wife has a phobia. It’s from 9/11. She’s had a phobia since 9/11.’
‘Right,’ said Laura. She was looking hard at Caitlin, not really comprehending. ‘Well, I suppose I can understand that. But you’ve got no option here. If you want a child from overseas, you have to go and get one. What did you think? They don’t just package them up and send them over.’
‘But do you know, I think I could do this,’ Caitlin said. She’d stopped studying her own hands and was looking up at Colby. ‘I mean, for something like this, I think I actually could get on a plane.’
‘What do you mean? You haven’t been on a plane for years. You missed your own mother’s funeral. I’m not criticising. I don’t want to get into an argument about it. But you know you can’t do it.’
‘This is different,’ said Caitlin. ‘I’m sure I could do it. Working with Susan, I’m sure I could.’
‘Who is Susan?’ asked Laura, perplexed.
‘My therapist.’
‘Okay. Well, you’re going to need to work on that. There’s no way around it. As I said, this is not FedEx. A lot of people I see in here, they wish it was. They’re busy people. They don’t want to make a big trip to a country they’ve never even wanted to see. But it can’t be done. You have to go. I don’t know how you’ve managed to date. I sure wouldn’t want to have that phobia. And it’s a phobia you’re going to have to overcome, if you want to get this adoption done.’
Chapter 19
‘What is so funny?’
It was April 2006, and Colby was at home with his big feet up on the coffee table and a laptop open on his knees, and he was laughing out loud.
‘Have a look,’ said Colby, turning the screen towards Caitlin. It wasn’t anything particularly remarkable: just a dog riding a skateboard, with some doof-doof music in the background.
‘Awesome,’ said Caitlin, sarcastically. She was drinking a glass of chilled white. There was a whole roast chicken, with garlic cloves and lemon slices, in the oven. The house on Larchmont Hill was looking lovely: the lawn was clipped and the trees in the natural forest behind the house were lush.
‘Have you ever thought about how much time you must spend on the computer?’ Caitlin asked.
‘Probably too much,’ said Colby, but to be fair, Caitlin was pretty much addicted to the web, too. The sites they frequented differed, of course. Colby always had one eye on the markets; he liked YouTube, and he watched porn after Caitlin had gone to bed.
Caitlin preferred websites that catered to her concern about food – where it came from, and what was in it – and of course she read everything she could find about adoption and travel phobias. The process of getting a child from Russia had been every bit as time-consuming and difficult as Laura had promised it would be, which had at least given her time to absorb the fact that she would have to fly.
‘Well, I need you to check off one more form.’ Caitlin put down her wine to pass over some papers from a file marked ‘Adoption’. ‘I know it’s frustrating. We’ve signed these ones before. I really should have listened to Laura when she said how hopeless they are over there.’
‘It’ll happen when it happens,’ said Colby. He leaned over to sign the papers Caitlin gave him without really looking, and in truth he hadn’t really been listening either.
‘Will you concentrate? What exactly are you looking at on that stupid laptop?’ Caitlin asked.
‘Nothing.’
‘I should start a website for our adoption,’ Caitlin said, ‘that would get you interested.’
‘You should,’ said Colby, and he actually meant it. Caitlin writing every little thing down in a blog might deliver him some relief from hearing every little thing from her in the evenings. ‘You should tell everyone how frustrating it is. How slow. And why does it have to be so slow when you’ve got all these children waiting for a good home?’
‘I should do that,’ said Caitlin, thoughtfully. ‘I know a few families who are doing that. There’s one site, “Maybe Baby”. I read them all the time. But how do I set one up? A blog, I mean?’ Colby didn’t know, but it was easy enough to figure out, and by evening’s end, Caitlin had the skeleton of her first website underway.
‘I’m happy with the design, but what should I call it?’ she asked.
‘What do you want to call it?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe Baby is already gone. What about Baby Dream?’
‘Sounds more like you’re hoping to have a baby.’
‘Well, I am. Or a toddler, anyway.’
‘But there’s nothing about adoption in a title like that. If you want people who are interested in adoption to read it, you have to make it about adoption or it won’t come up in the Google search.’
‘What would you call it?’
‘Adoption World?’
‘That’s horrible,’ said Caitlin, staring into her screen, with furrowed brow.
‘Well, you think of something better.’
‘Go away and let me think of something.’
Colby shrugged and returned to his own screen. They had matching Macs, and, for all Caitlin’s complaints about Colby’s distractions, they often found themselves sitting side-by-side of an evening, individually absorbed in whatever had caught their eye.
‘But aren’t you going to bring my dinner?’ Colby asked.
Caitlin sighed, rose from the sofa, and took the chicken from the oven. It was grain-fed, and the flesh was yellow; the skin was crisp; the juices clear in the pan. She put 50 grams – yes, she weighed it – of skinless breast on her own plate, with asparagus spears and cherry tomatoes; Colby got the rest, including all the potatoes.
They ate at the dinner table, with proper silverware.
‘You know what, as a cook, you just keep getting better,’ Colby said, touching his napkin to his lips.
He pushed his chair back – they had beautiful, upholstered chairs with low backs – as did Caitlin, although only she stayed to clear the table and load the dishwasher. Then came what Colby called her habit of ‘shining the kitchen’ – wiping all the stainless steel with special cloths, designed to make the surfaces sparkle under the lights from the range hood, which Caitlin liked to keep on into the evening.
It was after 10 pm before Caitlin was able to return to her laptop, to finish what she’d started.
Hello, and welcome to my diary – Caitlin’s Diary – on the World Wide Web. I haven’t really decided what to call it yet but maybe that will come to me as we go along.
Just to introduce myself, my name is Caitlin and the first thing I want to say is how weird this feels, to have a diary online, for the whole world to see.
I used to have a diary when I was a little girl growing up on Magnetic Island in Queensland, Australia, and I used to be worried about letting anyone read it. I keep a diary for my therapist too, but this is the first time I’ve put my words out into the world for other people to read.
My husband, Colby – that’s not his real name, but it’s what everyone calls him – has encouraged me to do it because we are experiencing some frustrations that may well be familiar to some of you. Maybe you’re wondering what they are. Well, it’s because I’m about to embark on the biggest new journey of my life – MOTHERHOOD.
And no, that doesn’t mean that I’m p
regnant!!!! I haven’t been pregnant since 2002 and we lost the baby and we’ve had no luck since. But this isn’t going to be a website about pregnancy, or about IVF, or about miscarriage. This is going to be something different.
We haven’t exactly given up trying to have a baby of our own, but after such a long time trying it is time to take the next step, namely ADOPTION.
We have an attorney – Laura – in Connecticut, and she is handling our paperwork. We are going to Russia. We have asked for an older child – not a baby – and preferably a boy. That’s because Colby wants to take him to ball games from day one. He’s a mad Yankees fan. I won’t be surprised if our child’s first outfit is a Yankees T-shirt. Anyway, that’s what this website, or to use the correct term, this ‘blog’ is about – adopting from overseas – and the idea is for me to share what we learn as we go, in case anyone has the same dream, and to share some of the frustrations we’ve encountered along the way. And I hope that everyone who is reading will send me good luck and make good karma for me, so my dream of becoming a mother comes true. Thank you very much and please feel free to leave a comment.
Caitlin hesitated over the button marked ‘publish’ for a few seconds, but then she thought, ‘Oh, what the hell’ and clicked on it.
‘There you go,’ she said to Colby. ‘I’ve started a blog for us.’
‘Good on you,’ he said, but it was late, and he’d had three-quarters of a bottle of wine and was distracted by some movements on the markets in Japan.
‘I wonder if anyone will comment?’ Caitlin didn’t really think so. The world wide web was huge. But when she checked back in the morning, there it was, her first ever piece of feedback.
‘Look at this,’ she said. She’d carried the laptop across the room to the kitchen, with the screen still open so Colby could see.
‘What is it?’
Colby was dressed for work, and he was downing the last of a second cup of percolated coffee, with two Advil.
Can You Keep a Secret? Page 13
