Megan won’t be coming with you. We think this is a terrible idea, and we won’t be a part of it.’
‘Don’t speak for her, Dad!’ My voice was rising again, this time with a new kind of frustration. I’d been aware of Dad’s arrogance, but I’d never noticed how deeply it defined their interactions. His halo had slipped, and suddenly my wonderful, strong father looked a whole lot like a bully. Mum sitting beside him looked almost like a stranger too, someone who lacked even the spine to assert her own will.
I’d thought of her as uniquely beautiful, now I realised that those wide eyes, brimming with sadness and confusion, were just a little too big. Above the downturned corners of her thin lips, her cheekbones were so prominent that the skin there seemed stretched. Mum had an unusual face, and I saw her as if for the first time and acknowledged with some shock that she was an ordinary, flawed human after all – they both were, and this realisation was almost as devastating as the discovery of the adoption had been.
I could suddenly see with vivid clarity every single one of my mother’s flaws. She was too reserved, and her life sometimes seemed too staged – everything looked perfect, but was there any substance to it? She could be so pushy when it came to my decisions. I’d always seen her as stable and reliably concerned, but maybe that was naïve, maybe my Mum was actually overbearing, and staid.
Was that the kind of mother that I would be?
I rose now and flicked towards Ted a split second glance which he instantly understood. He rose too.
‘I think we’d better go,’ I murmured. Mum and Dad both stared at me; Mum’s eyes pleading, Dad’s gaze hard and emotionless. ‘Maybe we need some space while I get used to this.’
‘What does that even mean ?’ Dad asked.
‘You know what it means , Dad,’ I whispered now. ‘It means I can’t carry on as if this never happened. I know now, and I can’t pretend that I don’t know. I don’t want to have a pretend polite brunch with you as if nothing has changed. I want to have a tear-filled, raw discussion where you open up your hearts and your memories to me and tell me who I am .’
He sighed impatiently, and that was so maddening that I could suddenly hear my own pulse in my ears. I turned away from them, and without a farewell, walked from the café – under a veil of tears all the way back to the car. When I tugged at the door handle, I realised with some frustration that Ted had the car keys but had remained inside to pay the bill. So I leant against the car and stared at the entrance to the café. I was torn right down the middle – wanting desperately for my parents to stay in the café and give me the space I needed, and at the same time mentally pleading with them to follow me; to come and invite me back for a more open discussion.
They didn’t come, but after a moment, Ted did. He approached me quickly, and pulled me immediately into his shoulder.
‘How can they not understand how this is hurting me?’
‘I have no idea,’ he exhaled as he shook his head, apparently as confused as I was. After a moment, he shifted my position in his arms so that he could survey my face. ‘Did you mean what you said, about tracking her down?’
‘Well, I actually said it for a reaction,’ I muttered, thinking of how successful that particular plan had been. I’d intended to drag a rise out of them – instead I’d succeeded only in enraging myself.
‘So you don’t want to do it?’
‘No, I didn’t mean that. I mean . . . I don’t even know where to start, but . . . I want to. She might have been looking for me, or she might be wondering why I never sought her out. And maybe she didn’t want to give me up at all, and maybe she’s been waiting for me to come find her for nearly four decades. Can you imagine if someone took our baby and then for nearly forty years we were waiting to find out if it was o-okay?’ Even the thought of
‘Don’t speak for her, Dad!’ My voice was rising again, this time with a new kind of frustration. I’d been aware of Dad’s arrogance, but I’d never noticed how deeply it defined their interactions. His halo had slipped, and suddenly my wonderful, strong father looked a whole lot like a bully. Mum sitting beside him looked almost like a stranger too, someone who lacked even the spine to assert her own will.
I’d thought of her as uniquely beautiful, now I realised that those wide eyes, brimming with sadness and confusion, were just a little too big. Above the downturned corners of her thin lips, her cheekbones were so prominent that the skin there seemed stretched. Mum had an unusual face, and I saw her as if for the first time and acknowledged with some shock that she was an ordinary, flawed human after all – they both were, and this realisation was almost as devastating as the discovery of the adoption had been.
I could suddenly see with vivid clarity every single one of my mother’s flaws. She was too reserved, and her life sometimes seemed too staged – everything looked perfect, but was there any substance to it? She could be so pushy when it came to my decisions. I’d always seen her as stable and reliably concerned, but maybe that was naïve, maybe my Mum was actually overbearing, and staid.
Was that the kind of mother that I would be?
I rose now and flicked towards Ted a split second glance which he instantly understood. He rose too.
‘I think we’d better go,’ I murmured. Mum and Dad both stared at me; Mum’s eyes pleading, Dad’s gaze hard and emotionless. ‘Maybe we need some space while I get used to this.’
‘What does that even mean ?’ Dad asked.
‘You know what it means , Dad,’ I whispered now. ‘It means I can’t carry on as if this never happened. I know now, and I can’t pretend that I don’t know. I don’t want to have a pretend polite brunch with you as if nothing has changed. I want to have a tear-filled, raw discussion where you open up your hearts and your memories to me and tell me who I am .’
He sighed impatiently, and that was so maddening that I could suddenly hear my own pulse in my ears. I turned away from them, and without a farewell, walked from the café – under a veil of tears all the way back to the car. When I tugged at the door handle, I realised with some frustration that Ted had the car keys but had remained inside to pay the bill. So I leant against the car and stared at the entrance to the café. I was torn right down the middle – wanting desperately for my parents to stay in the café and give me the space I needed, and at the same time mentally pleading with them to follow me; to come and invite me back for a more open discussion.
They didn’t come, but after a moment, Ted did. He approached me quickly, and pulled me immediately into his shoulder.
‘How can they not understand how this is hurting me?’
‘I have no idea,’ he exhaled as he shook his head, apparently as confused as I was. After a moment, he shifted my position in his arms so that he could survey my face. ‘Did you mean what you said, about tracking her down?’
‘Well, I actually said it for a reaction,’ I muttered, thinking of how successful that particular plan had been. I’d intended to drag a rise out of them – instead I’d succeeded only in enraging myself.
‘So you don’t want to do it?’
‘No, I didn’t mean that. I mean . . . I don’t even know where to start, but . . . I want to. She might have been looking for me, or she might be wondering why I never sought her out. And maybe she didn’t want to give me up at all, and maybe she’s been waiting for me to come find her for nearly four decades. Can you imagine if someone took our baby and then for nearly forty years we were waiting to find out if it was o-okay?’ Even the thought of
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