Messy Love

by Stephanie Witter

  “It’s now or never,’’ I mumbled to myself one last time. I dried my palms on my skinny jeans, grabbed my purse on the passenger seat and exited the car on wobbly legs.

  It’s hard to ignore the way my heart tried to carve its way through my rib cage or how unsteady I was on my peep-toe heels and how my fingers were so weak they barely had a real hold on my purse and car key.

  Walking toward the front door was probably the hardest walk of my life, far harder than that time when I followed Jameson and his friends to hike the Raven Cliff Falls trail when hiking was one of the things I despised most.

  “Looking for something?’’

  I started at the gruff voice and the breathlessness coming from behind me, tearing me from my rising panic. I turned around abruptly and faced a tall man.

  At first glance, I was taken aback by how tall he was, towering way above me effortlessly when I wasn’t exactly a tiny woman. But then, then I noticed other things, starting with his sweaty hair, curling slightly in some places to his sweaty forehead and sticking up in other places on top of his head.

  Then, my eyes locked with his, so dark and hard I audibly gasped and recoiled. His thick beard hid most of his facial expression, but it’s still blatant he wasn’t happy I was right here. My eyes fell, looking away from his dark look and then I was mesmerized by his thick arms glistening in the morning sun, making his colorful tattoos stand out even more on his pale skin. His tattoos were a work of art, marrying the lines of his massive muscles to perfection. Even the shading was perfect.

  Next, his powerful thighs encased in shorts had me distracted, and I almost forgot the reason why I was here in front of this very house and how harsh this man had been looking at me. That was until he cleared his throat loudly enough to be considered rude.

  I blinked a few times and glanced back at his face before looking away when my cheeks warmed uncomfortably. This day was such a mess.

  “So?’’ he pushed on when I still didn’t answer his question.

  I pointed over my shoulder in the direction of the house and willed my voice to come out. “Hmm, well, I’m visiting someone.’’

  “Visiting, uh?’’ He shook his head, and his dark eyebrows lowered more, something I hadn’t thought possible seconds before. His voice, still hard, had an undeniable ‘don’t bullshit me, or I’ll fuck you up’ vibe I wasn’t necessarily familiar with. “Listen, I don’t know what you’re selling, but we’re not interested. Go back to your car.’’ He gestured to my small town car, beat up and with dirt from the drive from my parents’, parked behind him on the curb in front of the house.

  But my mind was stuck on something.

  He said ‘we.’

  I raised a shaky hand to my still flushed cheek as pinpricks took over my whole face when I was sure the blood was leaving it at once. “Do you live here?’’

  His stance hardened more, muscles bulging briefly in his arms as he crossed them tightly, making his soaked t-shirt stretch over his broad chest and shoulders. “Who are you?’’

  I shook my head, unable to come up with something. It’s a simple question, and he’s entitled to it even though he was, without a doubt, an asshole. But I couldn’t answer it. Instead, standing in front of him, head tilted up to keep my eyes locked in his stormy ones, hands clutching my purse and car key as my mind was scattered at my feet, a single thought blared in my head.

  He was Wyatt Burton. He’s my biological mother’s adopted son. He wasn’t a kid.

  “Oh my God,’’ I muttered with a quiet voice as my eyes widened.

  And then, I didn’t know how or if I imagined it, but his eyebrows shot up on his forehead for the time it took to blink before he was scowling at me all over again. I was sure in the deepest part of me that he knew who I was.

  I jumped back, away from him as if he’s burnt me. I couldn’t do this. I fucking couldn’t do this. I made a move to walk away from the house and back to the safety of my car when…

  “Wyatt? What’s going on?’’ a female voice asked softly from behind me. It came from the house.

  It’s too late.

  My biological mother was behind me while her adopted son was in front of me, glaring at me so hard it’s a wonder he hadn’t managed to kill me by his sheer anger pouring out of every cell of his ripped body.

  Wyatt’s eyes glided over my body from head to toes before he scoffed and walked past me towards the house. “She’s not here for me.’’ I heard him say gruffly before his steps faded away.

  But I couldn’t turn around.

  I was rooted there in the middle of the path leading to the house. I couldn’t move to my car, but I couldn’t turn around and face the woman who had given birth to me either.

  Tears welled up in my eyes at the turn of events. It’s ridiculous, I knew it, but I had pictured it going very differently. I had imagined myself knocking at the door for her to answer and we’d calmly start talking. I never thought I’d be faced with her asshole of an adopted son. I didn’t think he’d be so tall and… so old. He’s probably a few years older than me.

  “Miss?’’

  I gasped and tightened my grip on my purse and key until my knuckles ached. Slowly, I turned around, and I was surprised to see I was so close to the front door, close enough to understand how Wyatt realized who I was. It’s the eye color. This unique blue-violet color that matched hers perfectly.

  She brought a hand to her mouth. Her eyes shone brighter as recognition hit her.

  I’d seen a picture of her in the file, but it’s nothing like seeing a bad copy of her ID. Now, I could appreciate the fact that she’s the same height as I was, had the same almond-shaped eyes with that strange color. Her body was maybe a bit thicker than mine, and she had light brown hair instead of my straight dark strands, but it’s undeniable. We’re the same blood.

  “You… Are you…?’’

  I nodded and walked toward her, my steps hesitant as I waited for her rebuke, for her to close the door to my face. But she didn’t. Instead, she opened it wider.

  “Yes.’’

  “Oh my God,’’ she whispered, her eyes looking at my face with such intensity it’s like she’s taking in every little detail about me to commit them to memory.

  I fidgeted and looked down at my feet, almost smiling when I saw the bunny slippers she had on.

  “Come in. I…’’ she said shakily, and I looked up to find her smiling softly at me, eyes wet. “I’ve been waiting to meet you for a long time.’’

  “Really?’’ I asked, and I was surprised to hear the hopeful note in my voice. Up until now, I wasn’t entirely aware of how much I wanted to meet her, talk to her. I had known it, but now it truly hit me squarely in the chest, rendering me weak and so vulnerable I was sure her rejection would have left me temporarily broken.

  She nodded. “Really.’’

  My heart pumped faster again while fear still ran through my veins, making it hard to swallow past the lump in my throat and forget the twirls my stomach had been doing since I had left my parents’ house earlier that morning.

  I walked in the house, and it’s strange. It jumped at me how this house was a family home, not just a house.

  In the hall, a few coats were hanging on patterns, pictures of kids and the Burton family hung on the walls, and a few pairs of shoes of different sizes had been discarded under a simple wooden bench. I could easily pick out Lydia Burton’s shoes, but also Ava because they’re a lot smaller than anyone else’s, Wyatt’s because they’re converse and huge and his father’s because they’re dress shoes.

  It shouldn’t hurt, but it did. I had no part in this family, and I had one of my own that I would never want to change, but still. It hurt to see that the person who gave me up had a happy family.

  She cleared her throat and smiled sadly at me and led me to a spacious kitchen with a small island made of white wood and dark gray countertops to match the rest of the kitchen. There’s also a table that could seat four people, white with a few table
settings of the same gray color than the kitchen.

  “Would you like something to drink? Water? Soda?’’

  “Water would be good, thanks.’’ Or a shot of tequila.

  I took a seat and placed my purse at my feet and kept my car key on the table in front of me. I had to fight the urge to toy with my keys, but instead, I twisted my fingers as I watched Lydia move around her kitchen. I was ready to walk away if need be, but I wasn’t willing to.

  After a few seconds of silence, I couldn’t help myself but look around, behind me to see if Wyatt was going to walk in, but it’s quiet, so quiet it’s as if we were the only two alone in the house.

  Lydia came back with a tall glass of water she put in front of me before she took the chair opposite me. Her eyes, these eyes identical to mine, didn’t leave my face for a second. It’s like she couldn’t believe I was here, in her kitchen. I had a hard time believing it myself, and I was the one who initiated this encounter. It was like living something through someone else’s.

  “I don’t… I don’t even know your name,’’ she broke the silence with a thick voice.

  Somehow, it helped me relax to hear the emotion in her words. It told me she’s, to some degree, moved to see me. Maybe she didn’t lie when she said she had been waiting to meet me. Was it bad of me to need to know that she felt something toward me? Coldness would have been too cutting.

  “My name’s Marissa. Marissa Thornton.’’

  She smiled, her white teeth barely peeking between her light pink lips. “Marissa is a beautiful name. It suits you.’’

  I cleared my throat and gripped the glass to take a sip. “Thanks, I guess.’’

  “When I saw your eyes, I knew who you were,’’ she said, a small smile still on her face. “You look a lot more like me than I expected.’’

  “When I saw the picture on your ID it threw me too.’’ I smiled at her, feeling shy. “My parents, I mean my adoptive parents, hired a PI so I could find you.’’

  “They’re your parents, Marissa. You don’t have to call them your adoptive parents in front of me.’’

  I nodded and glanced down at my thin fingers wrapped around the glass. “The PI said that you left enough information to find you easily. He assumed that you did that for me if I ever wanted to search for you. Is that right?’’

  She bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth so much that it turned a deeper pink before she nodded. “I was eighteen when I had you. I couldn’t provide for you like you deserved, but it was hard. I can’t tell you how hard it was for me to give you up for adoption.’’ She finally looked away, but not before I caught the shine in her eyes, making them seem so much lighter than they truly were. Just like when I was ready to cry.

  “It was because of money then.’’

  “What?’’

  I locked eyes with her again and started playing with strands of my thick hair on my shoulder. “It’s probably my overactive imagination, but I’ve been wondering if maybe you got pregnant after violence like…’’ I trailed off as my throat closed up.

  “Oh no! No, I assure you, I didn’t get pregnant because of that. I was in a relationship, and I accidentally got pregnant with my boyfriend at the time. I assure you that there was no abuse in that relationship.’’ She slowly extended a hand toward me, testing the water.

  I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be touched by her, but somehow, I didn’t move. I watched her hand, slightly bigger than mine, coming closer. Her wedding band shone brightly against her pale skin tone. And then, her warmth seeped through the back of my hand, and it sent tiny shocks up my arm.

  She was truly here in front of me. She existed. I had always known she existed, of course, but she had always been some sort of mythical creature before. Now, with her breathing in front of me, touching my hand, I had the proof she was truly alive and a part of me.

  “Your biological father and I loved each other, Marissa. We were together for over two years, but life can be hard. I couldn’t keep you because I didn’t have anybody there to help me but my cousin. She was a college student herself at the time. I didn’t have enough money to rent an apartment, didn’t have my boyfriend anymore, my parents had turned their back on me… It was the best solution for you. I mean, you have a good family, don’t you?’’

  I smiled and nodded. “I have a wonderful family. My parents are very open and understanding. And I have the best big brother a sister could ask. I’m very close to my family.’’

  “It’s good. It’s really good.’’ She pulled away and dabbed at her eyes. “I’ve always wondered if you were happy.’’

  “I am.’’ I shrugged and smiled wider at her. “I’m very lucky.’’

  “I’m glad. I can’t tell you how glad I am. I’ve almost tried to find you years ago, but I was afraid it’d make things difficult for you. I didn’t know if your parents had told you you’re adopted or if I’d upset your balance, so I promised myself I’d wait for you to find me. That’s partly why I’ve never moved far from Atlanta.’’

  “We’ve been living in the same city for two years. When I realized that it shocked me.’’

  “You live here?’’

  I nodded and laughed softly. “Yes, I rent a small one bedroom apartment in Midtown, close to Georgia Tech’s campus.’’

  “Is that where you go to college?’’

  I laughed on the inside at the assumption. When people saw me, they never guessed what I was planning for a career. Usually, I’d expect some disappointment or judgment when I explained, but after seeing her son, I didn’t think she was going to be that shocked.

  “I’m not in college. I’m a tattoo apprentice at the best shop in Atlanta.’’

  “Oh!’’ She blinked and looked at my bare arm, free of any tattoos until her gaze settled on the small tatt on my left wrist. “I wasn’t expecting that. It’s great. You saw Wyatt. He has great ink.’’

  “Yeah, I recognized the work. He's been tattooed by Kamren. Kam is my mentor. His art is breathtaking.’’

  “Do you have any tattoos?’’

  “Just a few and nothing huge. I designed them myself when I was eighteen and went to Kam to take me as an apprentice. He was hard to convince, but when he tattooed me, he accepted. He had me doing all the dirty work for six months before he started training me on fake skin and fruits with the machine.’’

  “It must be difficult to learn. Have you tattooed someone already?’’

  “Yes, but it’s recent. Kam gave me the green light to start on easy designs four months ago. I’m also always working on building my portfolio for when I can tattoo my designs.’’

  She smiled and laughed a very light and warm laugh that helped me relax a little more. “I would have never thought you’d be an artist or working your way to becoming a tattoo artist. How did you parents react when you told them your career choice?’’

  “They were worried but hid it. They supported me a lot from the get-go and because I’ve always been doodling, they knew I’d do something artistic. They only asked me to work hard and learn from the best.’’

  “You have good parents.’’

  “I do. They’re amazing.’’

  Silence fell between us, but this time it’s not awkward or tensed. It gave me the time to look around the kitchen more closely. I saw a school picture on the fridge of a young girl who’s probably Ava. She had a big smile, bright chocolate eyes and light brown hair framing her small face and apple cheeks. Besides the school picture, there’s a picture of Wyatt with one big tattooed arms wrapped around Lydia and another picture of Lydia in the arms of a tall man with brown hair and graying temples. They looked like a happy family.

  “Wyatt seemed to have known who I was earlier,’’ I finally said, breaking the silence and looking back at Lydia.

  “I hope he wasn’t too rude.’’

  I snorted and then smiled apologetically at my reaction. “I’ve met people a lot warmer, but I’m the intruder.’’

  She tugged on the sleev
es of her deep purple blouse, her eyes a bit sad now. “Wyatt and my husband know about you. I’ve never hidden you. My daughter is… She turned ten last month, and I’ve never known how to explain this. My family is very understanding, so I’m sorry if… I mean, Wyatt can be difficult sometimes.’’

  I couldn’t help the relief that invaded me like a tidal wave when I realized that she hadn’t lied to her family, that I wasn’t a taboo subject. I also understood her reasoning when it came to the little Ava. At her age, it’d be difficult to get why her mother gave up another daughter.

  “He looks older than me.’’

  “He is. He’s twenty-four. We adopted him when he was thirteen.’’

  “Thirteen! Wow.’’ I wasn't necessarily an expert in adoption just because I was adopted, but I heard that it wasn’t often that kids got adopted the older they got. In a way, knowing she adopted a grown-up kid lessened the pain, I had felt upon discovering she adopted someone after abandoning me. It probably made me an awful person, but sometimes emotions were messy, and I accepted that. “Did you want to adopt a grown up?’’

  “When I got married, I told my husband I wanted to adopt one day. I’ve never come to terms with what happened. Danny, my husband, is the sweetest man and he liked the idea of adopting a kid, giving them a real home. After our wedding we went through the process to be on the waiting list and then one day I saw this boy who was so tough playing on the basketball field with other kids near my work. The ball almost hit me in the face when I walked to my car. He jogged to me, apologized and then cursed one of the boys over his shoulder. I can’t explain it, but somehow, we connected even though he tried to keep me at arm’s length for a long time.’’

  “And you adopted him?’’

  “I didn’t know he was in foster care at first, but we would see each other regularly, and at one point he told me.’’ She paused, eyes lost in the memory as a warm smile stretched her lips. “I remember going home so fast that night. I told Danny we needed to adopt Wyatt, that he was our kid.’’

  “It’s great. He got lucky.’’

  “At the time, I’m pretty sure he didn’t think so. He would always try to piss us off, to defy us and cause all kinds of trouble. He did his best to test our attachment to him, our commitment and love.’’ She eyed me a little longer before she opened her mouth again. “But I’m sure you have other questions. Go ahead.’’