Max took her hand, turning it over in his, and lacing their fingers together.
“No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I got lost in my head for a bit there.”
Stella smiled, although her face was lined with concern.
“I shouldn’t have brought up your adoption,” she said. “It was so random, and I don’t even know why I asked. You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not ready to share, Max. We’ve only known each other for a few weeks.”
“Has it really only been that long?”
“I think so.” Stella tilted her head, seeming to do some calculations in her head. “We met on Valentine’s Day, and it’s not March fourteenth yet, so it’s only been a few weeks.”
“I feel like I’ve known you longer than that,” he said.
Stella smiled genuinely then. “I do, too.”
“Are you two ready to order?”
The waiter had returned and set down their drinks in front of them. Max and Stella ordered their food and waited until the waiter was out of earshot before resuming their conversation, although they both attempted to speak at the same time.
“I don’t—”
“What if we—”
They both stopped and laughed.
“You go first,” Max said, waving his free hand toward her.
Stella shook her head. “Nope, you go.”
“Alright,” he said. “I was going to say I don’t know where to start. How much do you want to know?”
“However much you want to share,” Stella said. “Or how little. I’ll just listen.”
She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand, soothing him, and he was grateful for her touch.
Max inhaled deeply, straightening in his chair.
“Okay, well, I should start by saying that this isn’t the happiest story, although maybe that goes without saying since I ended up here,” he said.
Stella only nodded and squeezed his hand, and it felt like she was saying, “I’m with you.”
“It was just me, my mom, and Miles together in DR,” he said. “My dad was a fisherman, and he died soon after Miles was born, out on the water. I’m not sure about the rest of our family. I vaguely remember there being cousins, or kids we used to play with. But after my mom passed, no one stepped up to take us. It’s possible they simply couldn’t afford to. I’m not sure.”
“Have you ever tried to look and see if you could find any other family?” Stella asked, breaking her silence.
“No,” he said. “I know Miles was toying with the idea of doing DNA testing at one point, but if he ever did or if he found anything, he never shared it with me.”
Stella only nodded and waited for him to continue.
“Anyway, it was just the three of us,” he said. “We lived in San Pedro de Macorís, right by the beach. My mother worked as a maid in a resort that was more inland and as a cook in one of the little restaurants in our neighborhood. Our house was small, and Miles and I shared a room, but it was good. I remember that it was good.”
Max’s voice caught on the words, and he had to swallowpast a lump in his throat to keep going. Stella didn’t speak but stood and moved her chair so she was on his right instead of directly across from him. Taking his hand again, she rested it in her lap, waiting for him to find the words.
“I’m sure things weren’t perfect,” he continued. “My mother was like me. Dark skin and dark eyes. I remember asking her once if we were Haitian because some kid said we were, even though at best he was maybe a shade or two lighter than me.”
“What did she say?” Stella asked.
Max chuckled. “She said maybe we were, somewhere far down the line. She said that we all shared the island, and the only thing that separated Haiti from the Dominican Republic was a line in the sand. All she knew was that she was born and raised Dominicana, she spoke Spanish not Creole, and no color of her skin would change that.”
