Everyone is having a good time at the restaurant, while I’m stuck in my head like always. They’re all so happy and carefree. It makes me a little jealous. Simone and her parents have always had this pure and sweet relationship. It’s always easy for them to be together. And Sarah, Mark, and Huxley look like they’re enjoying themselves. Sarah and Mark are deep in conversation with Simone’s parents, and Huxley is drawing superheroes on the paper menu they gave him.
I want this life, the feeling that comes with this kind of life…but why do I never feel like I deserve it, or like it will last? Nothing good has ever lasted.
Simone nudges me from the seat beside me. “You good?”
I look over at her and nod. “Yeah. I…think so.”
She gives me that look like she knows there’s more happening in my head, but she’s not gonna push it right now.
“Enjoy it,” she whispers with a smile.
“I’m trying,” I whisper back, laughing.
Sarah clears her throat, getting everyone’s attention. “Before our food comes,” she says, smiling. “We wanted to give you something, Lydia.”
My heart does a weird flip, and I brace for them to give me some gift I’ll like but also feel like I don’t deserve.
Mark slides an envelope across the table. “Open it,” he says.
I slide a finger under the flap, trying to be careful. I take it out and scan it. I know what it is before I finish the first line.
Final Decree of Adoption.
It takes me a second to understand that the letters aren’t moving. It’s me. I’m shaking.
“We got the finalized documents yesterday,” Sarah says proudly. “It’s done.”
“It’s…done?” My voice catches. “Like…really done?”
“Really done,” Mark says. He’s already out of his chair, already reaching for me, and Sarah follows.
I’m standing before I even realize it. My chair scrapes. The people in the next booth look over and then look away, the way strangers do when they accidentally catch a special moment for somebody else near them. Sarah is crying before she even reaches me, and then Mark’s arms fold around both of us. I don’t know how long we stand like that in the aisle, long enough for the waiter to step around us with a smile and check on the table beside us, silently being able to feel whatever happiness is radiating from us all.
I can see Simone and her mom both tearing up behind them, and her dad giving me a small nod, smiling like he’s proud, like he knows this is something I deserve.
The adoption process has been long for them, and I’ve been along for most of the steps, signing consents and paperwork, all things that just seemed far-fetched to actually lead to anything. In the back of my head the whole time. I don’t know, I just figured something would stop it. Something would prevent it from happening. That they would change their minds. I just thought…there was never arealpossibility of getting a permanent family. Who would really want a teenager anyway? In my mind, people adopt kids and babies…not grown teenagers like me…definitely not ones with this much damage.
I suddenly can’t stop the tears, and Mark hands me a napkin, still keeping us wrapped up in his arms.
When we sit again, the napkin is damp in my hand. Simone slides it out and replaces it with a fresh one, like a little magician—like a sister. “You okay?” she whispers.
I nod. Then I shake my head. Then I laugh, and it sounds a little off. “I don’t know.”
Sarah reaches across the table, palm up. I put my hand in it because that’s what you do when someone offers you genuine love. You don’t turn down something precious like that when you know how fast you can lose it. “Thank you,” I say, and the words barely come out. “I—thank you for…everything. And…I’m sorry.”
Mark’s brow creases. “For what, kiddo?”
“For not…being easy.” The shame gets a little louder, but I have to get it out. I didn’t plan to say this here. I didn’t plan to say it at all. “I know I haven’t been—” I search for the least pathetic words and fail, “—the best. I’ve never felt like I fit here. In this town. In school. Anywhere, really. And I know I’ve been…a lot to handle. I’ve had a lot of baggage. I know I probably made stuff…hard. I know I’m probably not the picture you had in your head when you signed up for a daughter.”
Sarah’s face breaks, and she squeezes my fingers. “Lydia,” it comes out so softly. “You areexactlywho you’re supposed to be.”
“What you’ve been through,” Mark adds. “None of that is your fault. Not one ounce of it. And nothing—nothing—will ever be held against you in this family. Not by us.”
I just nod, trying to swallow the lump in my throat so I can respond. “Thank you. I…I don’t know. I never thought I’d ever have a real family. I thought…maybe when I turned eighteen and left for college…that would be it. You wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore—”
“Your age means nothing,” Sarah cuts back in. “I have felt like you were my daughter since the first time I met you. Since that social worker called me, telling us that they had a fifteen-year-old girl who needed somewhere to stay. As soon as they told me everything you had been through… as soon as they told me how many homes you had been in…as soon as they told me your name…I knew. We have fostered many kids before you and Huxley, and I had love for each and every child that came into our home, but with you…and with Huxley…I just knew. It was different. So no amount of hard times could change that.”
I thought this wouldn’t affect me. I thought I wouldn’t care. I thought I wasn’t attached to them, that I would be okay if they didn’t want me, if I ended up somewhere else after a while…but I can’t stop the emotions rolling through me now.
