by Chris Fabry
He nodded again and closed the door behind him. I turned off the lights in the front room and watched from the shadows by the window as he pulled away.
CHAPTER 25
Treha
Treha sat in the commons in her regular booth, not having slept the entire night. She had tossed and turned and finally decided it was senseless to try any longer, so she got up, took a shower, and headed downstairs. She wanted to call Miriam in Arizona. She wanted to talk with Elsie and tell her she had been right, she had met her mother—at least she thought she had. But it was too early to call.
Instead she scribbled furiously in her journal, trying to capture everything. The sudden warmth she’d felt at Ms. Redwine’s hug. The sincerity in the woman’s face. How she had gone with Treha to face the dean of students. It was something a mother would have done for her daughter.
The minutes whirred by and the campus came to life, the sun rising on another day. Treha’s head and body ached from lack of sleep. It wasn’t until Anna sat down across from her that she looked up from the page.
“Holy cow. Hoo-ooly cow, Treha. Can you believe this? I mean, this is like a Pulitzer waiting to happen.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your story. Ms. Redwine’s story. She’s really your mother?”
“How did you know about that?”
“Uh . . . well, social media has this way of making things explode. Somebody was at the commons last night when Ms. Redwine . . . your mother . . . I can’t get over that . . .”
“Somebody did what?”
“Here, I’ll show you.” Anna pulled out her phone. “The original post was taken down, but not before it got shared like a billion times.” She played the video and Treha watched Ms. Redwine tell her the truth. Whoever took the video had been behind them and didn’t capture her mother’s face but showed Treha’s face. As it ended, Treha noticed her fingers were typing on the tabletop. She folded her hands in her lap, trying to hold them still.
“So is she really your mom?”
“She says she is.”
“Holy cow, Treha. This is what you’ve been waiting for! You have to do a piece for the paper. Better yet, let me do an interview.”
“I don’t want to be in the paper.” She pushed the phone away. “I don’t want everyone to see this. Can you stop it?”
Anna rolled her eyes. “That’s like stopping a train. This thing has gone viral. Holy cow, Treha.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Because this is like the most dramatic thing that’s ever happened here. It’s a human interest story on steroids. You better get ready for the onslaught because there are going to be people coming out of the woodwork. Unless . . .”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you give somebody the story first.”
“Like you.”
“Hey, I’m just a friend who cares.”
Treha looked hard at Anna.
“Okay, I’m just an opportunistic student who wants to be a reporter and wants the story first. I admit it. But here’s the kicker. I do care about you. I care about this school and its reputation. You’re not going to get that out there in the big, bad world.”
Treha closed her journal and sat in silence. Her fingers started tapping on the journal cover and she didn’t try to stop them.
“Treha, what’s wrong?”
Treha got up and Anna grabbed her arm.
“Tell me.”
“I can’t talk to you if you’re going to write everything I say,” Treha said.
Anna lifted both hands. “Fine. No pen. No recorder. Let’s just talk. Totally off the record.”
“I don’t believe you. You promised me things before and went back on your word.”
“You’re right. And I apologized. This is your chance to let me try again.”
Treha sat and stared at her. “I still don’t think I can trust you.”
“Treha, you need to talk. You have nobody else, right?”
“I have my friends in Arizona.”
“They’re a couple hours behind us.” She put a hand over Treha’s. “I’m not writing anything about this. I just want to be your friend.”
Treha looked into the girl’s eyes and the sight warmed her. There was something good and true there. Compassion. Kindness. Remorse.
“What happened with Shelly? I heard she was making a big stink.”
Treha told her about the visit with the dean of students and how Ms. Redwine had shown up. “I was sure they were going to kick me out of school.”
“They know you didn’t take Shelly’s stuff. That’s crazy. Why would you want her jewelry? If you had stolen it, you wouldn’t hide it in your room. The whole thing should get Shelly a one-way ticket home.”
“She believed me.”
“Who did?”
“Ms. Redwine. She spoke kindly about me and it felt really good to have someone on my side.”
“Duh, Treha. She’s your mother.”
Treha didn’t answer.
“Wait, don’t you believe her? Treha, what possible reason could she have to lie about that? For crying out loud, she’s risking her reputation.”
“Something doesn’t feel right.”
“What do you mean?”
Treha hesitated, her head pounding now, and put a hand to her forehead. It felt like a migraine coming on, the old pain that used to send her over the edge. She tried to push it away, tried to get around the ache that spread and made it feel like her whole head was swelling to the point of bursting.
“Did you two talk more last night?” Anna said.
Treha nodded and then the whole thing came spilling out, like pancakes and syrup sliding off a plate.
“Holy cow,” Anna said when she was done. “I can understand, after all you’ve been through, that you would be a little guarded. No, a lot guarded. But she knows too much for it to be a fraud.”
“I don’t think she’s a fraud. I think she believes I’m her daughter. There’s just something that . . .”
“Something that what?”
Treha searched for the words but couldn’t find them. All her life she’d been fascinated with words, could handle jumbles and puzzles so easily, but now she had nothing. She shook her head.
Anna leaned closer. “What about your father?”
“I told you. He’s dead.”
“Right, but does he have any family? Parents?”
“I don’t know.” Treha looked down at the table. “I thought all I needed to know about was her. All I wanted was some connection to where I came from.”
“And now that you have answers, you have more questions.”
Treha nodded.
Anna thought a moment. “Maybe I can help.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tell me what you know, about where they met and all of that. Where he was from. His name.”
“I don’t know much.”
“You don’t need to know much. Just names. Locations.”
“She said she has a picture.”
“Perfect. See if you can get that.”
CHAPTER 26
Paige
Everyone who knew about the atomic bomb expected the destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Few expected the far-reaching fallout and the toll it took on history. I’d known moving toward my daughter would have repercussions. I didn’t plan on the white-hot spotlight of social media.
The first indication, of course, was Ron showing up at my door in the middle of the night. Next came phone calls and voice mails from friends and colleagues, mostly positive and supportive. My mother called and left a message. But there was nothing from Treha. I wasn’t sure if I should call her or not.
“I can’t believe you’ve done this,” my mother said when I returned her call on the way to school the next morning.
“How did you hear about it?” I said.
She mentioned a name from the past I didn’t recall, some connection from the mission whose daught
er had seen something on Facebook and called with the news. The grapevine has gotten longer and the world is a much smaller place.
“Telling Treha this way was not something I planned, Mom. It just happened.”
“Just like the way she was conceived, I’m sure.”
The words were biting and angry, the mask giving way. I tried to ignore the comment but she wouldn’t let up.
“We’ve tried so hard to move on from those days, Paige. This is going to call into question everything we’ve worked for. Everything your father worked so hard to accomplish. You’ve taken that from him.”
“I didn’t take anything from him. This has no reflection on the two of you.”
“If this doesn’t reflect on us as parents, who does it reflect on?”
“Me. I was the one who made the poor decision. And I’ve paid the price. I’m done keeping secrets. This was so difficult to reveal, but I feel a strange sense of freedom.”
“Other people have to bear the burden of your freedom. It’s one thing if you had told this girl when you were alone, somewhere private where she could process the news and not become a spectacle. You’ve done irreparable harm.”
My stomach clenched. But I wasn’t about to admit that I feared she was right. “Mom, thank you, but I’ll wait to see what kind of response we get from Treha. And she’s not ‘this girl,’ she’s your granddaughter.”
“I know perfectly well who she is.”
My phone buzzed and I looked at the call waiting, which said simply Treha.
“Can you hang on, Mom? I have another call.”
“I’m sure it’s much more important.”
I hit the button. “Treha? I was just talking about you with my mother. How are you?”
“I’m fine.”
Her voice had already become familiar. The short, clipped words. I imagined her looking at the ground as she spoke.
“Good. I hope we can get together later today. Would you be up for dinner?”
“Actually I was calling about the picture.”
“Yes, I have it right here, along with some other pictures I thought you might like to see.”
“Can you bring them? This morning?”
“Well, I’m on my way to school at the moment.”
“It’s important.”
Treha’s tone sounded a little strained, and the last thing I wanted to do was let her down at this point, even if it made me late. “I’ll be right there. Can you meet me outside in the parking lot?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Be there in about twenty minutes. See you then. Oh, Treha—have you talked with your friends in Arizona yet?”
The phone clicked. I listened to the silence, then returned to my mother’s line. There was noise in the background, some disturbance.
“Mom?”
It took a few seconds but she came back on the line. “Paige, are you there?”
“Yes, that was Treha.”
“I need to go. Your father is having an episode.”
“Is it serious?”
“He’s just agitated. Go on with your life and don’t worry about us.”
She hung up as my father yelled in the background.
I found Treha just inside the entrance gate to Bethesda, waiting, her hair tousled by the wind and falling leaves encircling her. She wore jeans and a scrub top and stood with her arms folded.
My daughter. She wasn’t just a concept any longer or a secret to hide from my friends. She was flesh and blood and bone and heart.
I pulled to the curb and retrieved the pictures and got out.
“How are you this morning?” I said, giving her a slight hug.
“Fine.” No emotion. No return hug.
“I was going to ask you if you’d spoken with any of your friends back in Arizona yet. Miriam or Elsie?”
She looked at the ground. “Not yet.”
“Well, that’s going to be a fun phone call, don’t you think?” My voice was too bright. Trying too hard.
Treha didn’t respond.
“Have you spoken with anyone about what happened last night?”
“Just Anna.”
“Anna? Do I know her?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, evidently our reunion has stirred some reaction. Someone took a video—”
“Anna showed it to me. Did you bring the picture?”
“Yes. I actually have several. Now these are originals, so take care of them.”
As soon as I said it, I regretted it. I sounded like a controlling mother, a worrywart. I sounded like my own mother. Treha had every right to rip the photos up in front of me and toss them to the wind or make a collage or do whatever she wanted.
“I’ll make sure you get them back.”
“Of course you will. I just meant these are . . . Well, they can’t be replaced.”
“Is this him?”
“Yes. You have the same facial features, don’t you think?”
She stared at the photo as if it might come alive if she concentrated hard enough. “And this is you.”
“Younger, happier. Not a care in the world. I had no idea what would happen in such a short time. But this is behind us now, isn’t it? This is the past we’re holding.” I flipped to another picture. “These are your grandparents. I have a couple of other pictures in there of me when I was pregnant with you. Not a soul on the planet has seen those, Treha.”
She kept staring as if they were a puzzle to decipher. Finally she looked at me and said, “Thank you.”
I rushed on, encouraged by the eye contact. “I was thinking we could pick up something for dinner and you could come to my house tonight. Would that be okay?”
“I guess so.”
“Do you like Chinese? Pizza? Whatever you want.”
“Chinese is fine.”
“Great. I’ll bring a menu and we can order on the way. I’ll pick you up here around five thirty?”
“Okay.”
Treha turned and walked back toward the school and I gave a huge sigh. This was going to be harder than it looked. Probably a lot harder. But there are things worth doing once you commit to them, and motherhood is one of them. I had gotten over the hurdle of unveiling. Now I had to get over the hurdle of Treha’s heart.
CHAPTER 27
Treha
Treha’s migraine was a beast. Pressure on both of her temples and squiggly lines scrolling across her field of vision. Closing her eyes didn’t help—it actually made things worse. It was like stepping into a minefield and watching the shrapnel fly, even though she wasn’t moving.
She stayed in her room with the lights off and didn’t go to class. She couldn’t. Couldn’t bear the stares or questions that might come from well-meaning students who wanted to ask how she felt about finding her mother.
Anna found her in the room later that morning. She picked up the picture of Treha’s father. “He’s pretty cute.”
“He’s dead.”
“Okay, he was pretty cute. Sorry.”
“Take care of the picture—that’s the only copy she has.”
“All right, Treha. Thanks for trusting me.”
Anna left and a few moments later Treha’s cell phone buzzed. She hoped it wasn’t her mother. The buzz was like a percussive bomb going off, even though it was just vibrating. The questions running through her pounding head were almost as bad as the noise.
Instead of her mother, it was Miriam from Tucson.
“Treha, I heard there’s something going on between you and your roommate. How are you doing?”
There’s a lot going on with everyone, Treha thought. “She accused me of stealing.”
“Is there any truth to it?” Miriam said.
“No.”
“Of course not.”
“I’ve never seen her jewelry. Why would I want it? Why would I steal it?”
“I’m sorry you’re having to go through this. I keep kicking myself for not saying something the first day I was there. I
knew this would be a problem.”
“How did you find out?”
“Your RA called. Jill thought I should contact you.”
Treha listened to the woman’s voice. It was nice to hear someone she trusted, someone who had her best interests at heart.
“Treha,” Miriam said slowly, as if she were even more concerned about what she was about to say. “Jill also mentioned what happened last night. The video someone took.”
“Oh.”
“She said everyone there knows about it. That it’s online.”
Treha didn’t respond. The pain in her head was overpowering, and now her stomach clenched.
“Do you think it’s true?”
“Yes. Ms. Redwine told me she wrote the letter.”
A pause. “How do you feel, Treha? You’ve waited your whole life to find her, and to think she was right there . . .”
“She waited a long time to tell me,” Treha said. “I think she was scared what would happen.”
“Did you have a good talk with her?”
“It was okay.”
“You sound discouraged,” Miriam said.
“I have a migraine.”
“I’m sorry. I know how debilitating those can be. Get some rest and shut the phone off, okay?”
Treha paused, the longing in her heart leaking through the phone line.
“Treha, there’s no pressure for you to feel a certain way or to feel something you don’t.”
“It’s been my one dream . . . My mother wants to have dinner with me and I’m in my room . . .”
“Okay, so you’re in your room. You’re having a hard time with the news. This is okay. You’re feeling something. That’s good. Listen to it. Respond to it.”
“I’m feeling like I want to come home.”
A slight pause on the other end. “Really, Treha?”
“I don’t know. I’m just scared of what’s happening.”
“Well, you’re free to come back here at any point. You know that. You have your own credit card. You can make a reservation and come home during Thanksgiving break or this weekend if you want. If you need to tell your mother that you want some time to think about all this, do that. If you need to be alone, she’ll understand. She’s probably going through a lot of emotions herself. And if you want to come here and decompress, do it.”
