by Amy Hatvany
Brooke wished she could have a cup of coffee instead of the herbal tea she’d ordered, but she’d read online that pregnant women should avoid caffeine. Which, considering how exhausted she was, felt like an unusually cruel punishment. Along with fatigue, her breasts were tender and her lower back was sore; she couldn’t wait to be further into her second trimester, when most of these issues were supposed to subside. An online check for the size of her baby at thirteen-and-a-half weeks told her that it was approximately three inches long and now had the whorls of prints developing on its tiny fingertips. She still could hardly fathom that all of this was taking place inside her; she wondered when it would begin to feel real.
She realized that if she wanted, she could talk with Natalie about what it was like when her younger sister had been pregnant with Hailey and Henry. She could ask any question and Natalie would surely answer it. But it had been overwhelming enough, seeing Natalie on Saturday, knowing the woman who handed her that well-worn lavender blanket was the baby she’d said good-bye to all those years before. She was terrified of letting Natalie into her world, letting her sister see just how empty it was. She worried that Natalie would get to know her and hate her; that she’d ask about Brooke’s friends and Brooke would have to tell her she didn’t really have any. What if Brooke told her about the baby and Natalie thought she’d be a terrible mother?
Brooke glanced around the shop, trying to distract herself from her negative thoughts. The tables surrounding her were mostly filled with young mothers and their children, along with a few suit-and-tie businessmen typing away on their laptops. One of the latter, an older, dark-haired gentleman wearing horn-rimmed glasses, caught Brooke staring at him, and he raised one of his eyebrows as he smiled back. She immediately dropped her eyes to the floor, not wanting him to think that her look was an invitation to join her.
Fortunately, at that moment the bell on the bakery door sounded, and Natalie entered. She wore snug-fitting dark blue jeans, a double-breasted black wool swing coat, and knee-high black leather boots. Her blond hair was tucked behind her ear on one side, and her cheeks were pink from the cold October air. She waved at Brooke, then came over to join her.
“Hi,” she said as she sat down at the table. “Am I late? I had a hard time finding parking.”
“Not at all,” Brooke said, watching her younger sister remove her coat, revealing the black, fitted turtleneck sweater she wore beneath. “You look nice.”
“Really?” Natalie glanced down at her outfit. “Thanks. Pretty much everything I own is black, so I don’t have to worry whether or not things match.” She smiled again, then reached into the large bag she’d carried in, setting a small lavender box on the table between them. “I brought you a little something.”
Brooke instantly recognized that the shade of purple matched the blanket Natalie had returned to her, loving that her sister had chosen it. She carefully opened up the box. Inside were nine pastel-hued, perfectly round macarons. She looked at Natalie. “Wow. You made them?”
Natalie nodded.
Brooke reached in and took one out, holding the delicate cookie between her thumb and index finger as she took a bite. “Oh my god,” she said. The sweet meringue melted inside her mouth, filling it with the intense flavor combination of raspberry and lime. “It’s amazing.”
“Thanks,” Natalie said again, looking pleased. She glanced toward the counter. “I should probably go buy something. I’m sure the owners wouldn’t appreciate me bringing in my own dessert.” She stood up and grabbed her purse. “Be right back.”
Brooke waited for Natalie to return, sipping at the peppermint tea she had ordered, making sure she didn’t make eye contact with the older gentleman with glasses, whose gaze she could still feel upon her. You’re the last thing I need, buddy, she thought. Now that she was pregnant, she wouldn’t be dating anyone for quite some time. So far, Ryan had respected her request to leave her alone, but it had been less than a week, and there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t try to contact her again. She told herself that no matter how scared or needy she might feel as her pregnancy progressed, she would not be the one contacting him.
Natalie came back to their table, holding a large white mug and a plate with a croissant on it, just like the still-untouched one Brooke had in front of her. “So,” Natalie said. “How’re you doing?” She lowered herself into her seat and took a sip of what Brooke assumed was a latte from the white foam that stuck to Natalie’s upper lip before she licked it clean.
“With us, you mean?” Brooke said.
“Yeah. It’s a lot to take in, right? I’m trying to get used to hearing the word ‘sister’ rolling around inside my head. It’s a little strange.” She paused. “Wonderful, but strange.”
“That’s a good way to put it,” Brooke said, allowing herself to relax a little bit. It was comforting to hear that she wasn’t the only one having a hard time adjusting to the idea of having a sister in her life. “I’m happy you found me, but I guess I’d gotten used to the thought of never seeing you again. I’m still processing that it’s really you.”
“Do you have many memories of us when we were together?”
“A few,” Brooke said. “I remember holding you a lot, helping to change your diapers and give you a bottle. I remember you always giggled when I stuck out my tongue.” Natalie smiled and broke off an end piece of her croissant, then popped the pastry into her mouth. While her sister chewed, Brooke spoke again. “Did you always know you were adopted?”
“Not until I was ten,” Natalie said, after she had swallowed. “And I always felt different from the other kids after I knew.” She tilted her head, then spoke again. “Before then, too, if I’m being honest. I was a shy kid. I didn’t really have any friends.”
“I have a hard time believing that,” Brooke said. Her sister seemed so warm and friendly. Over the weekend, Brooke had imagined Natalie with a large social circle, she and her husband going out with their couple friends for a date night each week, hosting holiday parties and summer barbecues in their backyard. The thought of trying to fit into a circle like that was intimidating.
“It’s taken me a long time to get over it,” Natalie said. “Law school taught me to fake confidence pretty well. But I’m still not especially close with anyone outside my immediate family.”
Brooke smiled. Maybe she and Natalie were more alike than either of them knew.
“What about you?” Natalie asked.
Brooke was unsure how to convey the truth to her sister without it making Natalie feel sorry for her; the last thing she wanted was to feel pitied. “Well,” she said, carefully choosing her words. “I didn’t have a lot of friends, either. It was too hard, with all of us going into foster homes, and then back to Hillcrest when things didn’t work out. There were always new kids, different kids, and it was rare to have the same people around me for very long.”
“I can only imagine,” Natalie said. She sipped her coffee, then set the mug back on the table. “What were your foster homes like?”
“Which ones?” Brooke asked, trying to keep the snap from her tone. But from the look on her sister’s face, she’d failed.
“I’m sorry,” Natalie said, looking chastised. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
“No,” Brooke said. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to discussing it. I tend to keep my past to myself.” Natalie kept her eyes on Brooke but didn’t respond, seemingly waiting to see if her sister would go on. “I don’t have any particular horror stories,” Brooke finally said. “No one beat me or burned me with cigarettes or locked me in a closet, which did happen to more than one of the kids I knew. I just didn’t fit in anywhere. I didn’t fit in with anyone. By the time I hit ninth grade, Gina stopped trying to place me in a foster home altogether, and I just lived at Hillcrest, going to school and biding my time until I aged out of the system. I started working in restaurants as a dishwasher and hostess when I was sixteen, then ended up cocktailing as soon as I turned twenty-one
. I’ve been at it ever since.” Brooke’s muscles had been tense when she began to speak, but by the time she had finished, she felt lighter, and her body softer. The knot in her stomach had loosened. She hadn’t spoken to anyone like this since she had lived with Claire. She had forgotten the relief that honesty could bring.
“You’ve never been married?” Natalie hadn’t taken her eyes off Brooke, and appeared to be sincerely interested in her older sister’s story. Brooke searched her face for any sign of pity but found none.
“Nope,” she said. She imagined saying that she was pregnant, then immediately decided against it. At this point, there was only so much about herself she would reveal.
“Not the marrying kind?”
Brooke laughed, thinking how much more convoluted her reasons for not being able to fully commit to a relationship were. “I guess not,” she said. “I like to keep things simple.”
“I hope meeting me isn’t too complicated,” Natalie said, with a touch of worry.
“I don’t think so,” Brooke said. “At least, not so far.” She hoped the lightness in her tone conveyed to Natalie that she was joking.
“What about meeting Kyle and the kids?” Natalie asked. “Would you be up for that?”
Brooke wondered if she had it in her to navigate interacting with Natalie’s family. “I don’t want to impose. Or make anyone uncomfortable.”
“You won’t,” Natalie said. “It’s a little over Henry’s head, but I know Hailey would be thrilled to have a new aunt.”
Her baby would have cousins, Brooke thought. An aunt and uncle of its own. “Are you sure?”
“Of course,” Natalie said. “Why don’t you come over to our house for dinner next week? Nothing fancy, just the five of us. We’ll keep it casual. Is there a night that works best for you?”
“I usually have Wednesdays off,” Brooke said.
“Perfect. I’ll text you our address and we’ll see you then. Seven o’clock?”
Brooke paused, trying to fight off the sense of apprehension brewing in her chest. What if Natalie’s husband and the kids didn’t like her? What if they met her and convinced Natalie that they shouldn’t have a relationship? But the bright, optimistic look on her sister’s face was too contagious to resist. “Seven o’clock,” she repeated, and after that, she knew there was no excuse to be made.
Natalie
Monday night, a few days after Natalie’s second meeting with Brooke, Natalie and Kyle lay in bed discussing the idea of telling their children that Natalie was adopted and about the sister she never knew she had.
“It’s your news to tell,” Kyle said, “but are you sure they’re old enough to hear it?”
“I think so,” Natalie said, appreciating Kyle’s deference, especially considering his reservations about Brooke. “I know of one adopted kid in Hailey’s class, so it’s not like they haven’t been exposed to it. It’s treated so differently now than it was when I was growing up. It’s out in the open. Talked about. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I hate that you felt ashamed,” he said, tenderly. He tangled his fingers with hers, and Natalie remembered the night when she’d first told him that she was adopted. It was their fourth date, and Kyle had taken her to a small French bistro on Lake Union, where they looked out over the water, sipping champagne and telling each other stories about how they’d grown up.
“I always wanted a sibling,” Natalie said. “Being an only child can get pretty lonely.”
“I wish my brother and I were closer,” Kyle said.
“Why aren’t you?” In all her childhood fantasies about having a brother or sister, Natalie never imagined anything but the two of them being the best of friends.
“A lot of reasons.” Kyle set down his glass and linked his fingers together on the table, as though in prayer. “He’s four years older than me, so he likes to boss me around. I put up with it when I was a kid, but when I hit junior high, I started challenging him and he didn’t like it. We had some pretty epic fights. He broke my nose, twice, and I gave him more than one black eye.”
“Oh my god,” Natalie said. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”
Kyle shrugged, but Natalie could see the emotion clouding his dark eyes and it made her long for a way to comfort him. “It is what it is,” he said. “We get along on the surface now, but it’s probably a good thing he moved to L.A.” He cleared his throat, looked away for a moment, and then spoke again, returning his eyes to hers. “Most of the time, I feel like an only child, too.”
Natalie reached across the table and took his hand in hers. “I was adopted when I was six months old,” she said, surprised to hear the words coming out of her mouth. She hadn’t specifically planned to share this piece of her past with him, but it seemed like the right thing to do, especially after he’d just related such a raw, honest aspect of his relationship with his brother. There was something about Kyle—something that made her feel like she could tell him anything. “I lived in a car with my birth mother until she decided to give me up. My parents didn’t tell me anything about it until I was ten.”
“Why not?” Kyle asked, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. His grip was warm and reassuring; Natalie felt like she never wanted him to let go.
“I don’t really know. My mom hated whenever I brought it up after that, so I learned it was better to not talk about it at all. With anyone. I felt like it was something I needed to hide.”
“But you’re telling me.”
Natalie pressed her lips together and bobbed her head, once.
“That must have been hard, keeping such a big fact about your life to yourself.”
“It is what it is,” Natalie said, repeating the statement Kyle had used about his situation with his brother. “I don’t really think about it much.”
“Have you ever tried to find your birth mother?”
“No. It would break my parents’ hearts.”
“What about your heart?” Kyle asked, and Natalie’s eyes filled with tears, already sensing that the man sitting across from her was the one with whom she’d spend her life. He saw right through to the very core of her, and she saw into him, too. When he proposed a few months later, he took her back to that restaurant, got down on one knee, and said, “I want to build a family with you, Natalie. I want you to be the mother of my children, my partner in everything we do.” He choked up then, but didn’t bother to blink away the shine in his eyes. “I can’t fathom choosing anyone else but you.”
Now, remembering that moment nine years ago, Natalie felt an overwhelming surge of affection toward her husband. “That’s part of why I want to tell the kids,” she said. “I don’t want to hide anything from them.” She swallowed, hard, to keep the tears down. “We’ll keep it simple. On a level they can understand. But I need to tell them. Okay? I don’t want to lie to them about who Brooke is when she comes over for dinner this week.”
“Okay.” The next evening, after Kyle got home from work, he and Natalie sat down with the kids in the living room. Henry clambered up onto his father’s lap, and Hailey settled right next to Natalie, who wasn’t exactly sure how to start.
“So,” she finally said, “your dad and I have something we need to talk with you about.” She felt a strange sense of déjà vu, remembering how her parents had similarly sat her down in their living room to tell her that she was adopted.
“Are we getting a kitten?” Hailey said, her voice bright.
“I want a dog!” Henry said, wiggling excitedly on top of Kyle’s legs.
“Hold still, buddy,” Kyle said, clamping his arms around his son. “You’re hurting Daddy’s legs with your bony butt.”
“Bony butt! Bony butt!” Henry chanted, and Natalie flashed Kyle an imploring look.
“That’s enough, kiddo,” Kyle said, nodding at Natalie, which she took as encouragement to continue.
“Mommy needs to tell you something about herself, actually,” Natalie said.
“What?” Hailey asked, bouncing o
n the cushion, causing Natalie to jiggle, too. She put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, stopping the movement.
“Well,” Natalie said, “you know how Azim was adopted by his parents?”
“Azim is E-thi-o-pian,” Hailey said, carefully pronouncing the country’s name. “That’s in Africa.”
“That’s right,” Kyle said. “But why don’t we stop interrupting Mommy and let her finish. Okay?”
“Okay!” Henry shouted.
“So,” Natalie said, “the first part of my news is that when Mommy was a baby, she was adopted, too. Gramma and Grampa chose me to be their little girl.” Her throat closed around these last words, remembering how she’d felt the first time her parents had spoken them to her.
“But, Mommy, what happened to your real mom?” Hailey asked, looking up at Natalie with her big round eyes.
“Gramma is my real mom, honey,” Natalie said. “She’s the one who raised me. The woman who carried me in her tummy is called my ‘birth mother.’ ”
Hailey pursed her lips. “Your birth mom didn’t want to keep you?”
The question pinched the nerves in Natalie’s throat. “Well,” she began, coughing a little to hide the rush of emotion from her voice, “it wasn’t that she didn’t want to. It was more that she couldn’t.” Is that true? she wondered. Or just the least painful version of the story?
“How come?”
Natalie recited the same words that her mother had told her, almost verbatim. “She was young and all alone. She didn’t have a job or enough money or any help to take care of me, so she decided that giving me up for adoption was the best thing. She wanted to give me a better life.”
