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I slide the closet door open and look up at the shoebox on the shelf. It’s a large box. Brian wears a size fourteen. Despite his size, Brian has the most gentle heart of anyone I’ve ever known. I know his need to share these photos with Abby is largely inspired by guilt.
Brian was badly electrocuted after seven months at his job as an electrician. He was just nineteen years old and he was told by his doctor to get fertility testing when he was twenty-three. He didn’t meet me until he was twenty-five and I was twenty-one. We got married three years later and immediately began trying for a child. After five months with no success, I was baffled.
I’d had an abortion my sophomore year in college, and I began to wonder if the abortion had damaged me. Then, Brian remembered his doctor had recommended fertility testing to him almost ten years earlier. It was a huge blow to his ego. He was twenty-eight years old and unable to father his own children. It was devastating to both of us, but he took it especially hard. He even offered to divorce me so that I could be with someone who wasn’t defective. In the end, we decided to adopt.
It took four years, $67,000, and countless tears for us to become parents. So, yes, it was extremely disheartening and terrifying when Abby was just four months old and we were contacted by Chris Knight’s lawyer. This was the man whose music I listened to while cooking dinner, and he was asking to be a part of my daughter’s life.
At first, I didn’t see how it couldn’t be a good thing for Abby. It was Brian who was looking into the future and seeing all the times Abby would go running to the Knights, the beautiful, rich couple who would probably never feel the need to discipline Abby. They’d leave that part to us, so they could remain the good guys. At least, this is how Brian saw the future if we agreed to an open adoption. I think he was right.
I slide the box off the shelf and I’m surprised by how heavy it is. Brian is the one in charge of taking the pictures out of the safe-deposit box and putting them in this box. I did have a slight crush on Chris Knight eighteen years ago, so I thought it would be best if Brian handled this part. Though, I never told him why. Even eighteen years later, I’m still not sure how I’ll feel when I see these pictures. But I need to look at them before Abby does. I need to make sure there are no objectionable photos in here.
I place the box in the master bathroom, then I unlock the master bedroom door. Racing back to the bathroom, I lock the door behind me. I turn the cold water on in the shower, then I sit on the toilet and place the box in my lap. Abby’s in the bathroom down the hall, getting ready to go to school. This is my only opportunity to do this before Brian leaves for work.
I lift the lid on the box and the first photo is of Claire Knight holding Abby in that conference room more than seventeen years ago. I didn’t know they had taken photos of Abby while they were in there. I’m not sure how I feel about that.
I take a few breaths to calm myself, then I flip to the next photo in the stack. My heart races when I see another picture from that meeting in the conference room, but this one is with Abby and Chris. They’re both smiling as she reaches for his mouth. She has his brown eyes, the feature of her appearance that made her question why she doesn’t look like Brian or me.
I set the pictures back in the box and replace the lid. I can’t do this. Brian will have to return the photos to the safe-deposit box without me. I don’t have the strength to look through these hundreds of pictures while suffering such feelings of inadequacy.
We’ll never be as young or wealthy or good looking as the Knights. And I know it’s ridiculous to envy a woman who obviously has emotional issues after dealing with the suicide of her mother, but I do. I envy Claire. I don’t know how she got Chris to forgive her after she gave Abigail up for adoption without his knowledge. All I know is that this adoption nearly broke Brian and me more times than I can count. I won’t allow a box of photos to deliver the final blow.
AMY RIDES HOME with Caleb and me after school. An April storm swooped in while we were in third period. The smell of the rain and the sound of the drops tapping on the vinyl convertible top is soothing after a long day of fake smiles. Amy and Caleb are the only people who know about the significance of today’s date. Everyone at school was wishing me a happy eighteenth birthday, completely oblivious as to how unhappy today actually is.
I haven’t told Caleb or Amy, but I’ve already made my decision about opening the safe-deposit box.
Caleb pulls into the driveway, next to my dad’s silver pickup truck, and turns off the engine. The silence that follows brings a smile to my face. They’re both waiting for direction from me.
“Let’s go. I’m sure my mom is pacing the living room, waiting for me to walk through the front door.”
Caleb laughs, but Amy shakes her head. Her wavy brown hair is damp at the ends from the rain and the light freckles on her nose are showing through her makeup, but she still looks great. My makeup is probably all gone.
“Is your mom going to freak out?”
I push the passenger door open and a few raindrops fall on my arm. “Amy, this is my mom. Of course she’s going to freak out… on the inside. On the outside, she’ll pretend like everything is okay.”
Caleb grabs my shoulder as we stroll up the front walk, then he gives it a soft squeeze. “Whatever you choose is the right choice. Don’t let anyone make you believe otherwise.”
I smile and, for some reason, the $4,000 guitar lying in his trunk comes to mind. Of course Caleb thinks that whatever I choose is the right choice. He thinks I’m so special I actually deserve a $4,000 guitar. I could probably run away tonight and Caleb would tell me I made the right choice. Of course, if I ran away tonight I’d probably end up spending the night with Caleb at the apartment he shares with his twenty-three-year-old roommate. So that’s a bit obvious.
“Is your dad supposed to be home right now?” Amy asks as I reach for the doorknob.
“No, he probably left work early. It’s a big day for them, too.” Pushing open the front door, I’m a bit surprised to find my dad standing in the foyer, as if he were waiting for me. “Hey, Dad.”
He clears his throat and smiles. “I know I wished you a happy birthday this morning, but I’m going to do it again.” He extends his right hand forward and I see the gold key lying flat in his palm. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. This is yours now.”
I draw in a few deep breaths, then I reach forward and take the key from his hand. I curl my fist around the sharp metal, squeezing as it digs into the soft flesh of my palm. Looking up into my father’s blue eyes, the barely disguised grimace crinkling the skin around the corners, I tuck the key into the front pocket of my jeans.
“I’m not going today,” I say, smiling so he doesn’t think this was a difficult decision to make. “I don’t know if I ever will, but thank you for trusting me to make the decision on my own. I love you, Dad.”
I wrap my arms around his thick waist and he squeezes my shoulders so tight it hurts. “I’ve always trusted you, sweetheart. I know you’ll make the right decision for you.”
“What’s going on?”
My mom’s voice is soft and laced with worry, but it still grates on my nerves. I love my mom, but her inability to trust that I would make the right decision has broken something between us. I don’t know if I’ll ever hear her speak and hear the same voice that sang me to sleep every night until I was eight years old.
“I’m not going,” I say, letting go of my dad.
Her eyebrows knit together, but there’s a spark of hope in her eyes and a slight curl to her lips. “Why not?”
I blink a few times to hold back the tears. “Because I’m afraid of hurting you.”
“What? That’s silly.”
“No, it’s not. I can see how much you want me to leave that part of me in the past. Even if you don’t say it, I can see it in your eyes.”
“I’m sorry, Abby. I just—”
“No, you don’t have to explain, Mom. I understand.” I sniff loudly as I wipe the tears fr
om my face. “You don’t want to lose me. And I’m lucky to have you. I know that… I don’t want to lose you either.”
She shakes her head and takes my face in her hands. “Oh, honey. You’re not going to lose me. You’ll never lose me.” She kisses my forehead and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Yes, I’m afraid of what this will do to our family going forward, but it’s natural. We fought so hard for you, Abby. I just want to protect you. I want to protect this family.”
“From what?”
She presses her lips together as she considers this question. “I don’t know. But please don’t let my fear influence you. This is your decision, honey. Your father and I will support you no matter what you choose to do.”
I nod and she takes me into her arms. I allow myself to cry on her shoulder for a moment, before I excuse myself to my bedroom with Caleb and Amy. Closing the door behind us, I immediately take a seat on my bed while Amy sits at my desk and Caleb sits next to me.
“She’s hiding something from me,” I say as Caleb grabs my hand.
“Our parents probably hide more things from us than we do from them,” Amy replies, opening up my laptop. “Do you want me to respond to all your birthday greetings on Facebook?”
“Yes, please.”
“Not the ones from guys,” Caleb adds, and I shove him. “Are you sure you don’t want to see what’s inside that box?”
I nod quickly. “I’m not ready. I’m actually glad my mom made me wait. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to face the people who gave me away.”
“What if they had no choice?” Amy says.
“No choice? In what kind of world would they have no choice? Of course they had a choice. Maybe it was a difficult one, but it was still the choice they made. Why do I even want to meet someone who didn’t want me? My parents want me. They’ve always wanted me and now I’m going to risk hurting them just to satisfy my curiosity? It doesn’t make sense.”
“You’ll know when you’re ready,” Amy says, an automatic response as she scrolls through my Facebook profile and responds to hundreds of birthday wishes.
