I knew he was saying it for my own good. Meeting biological parents for the first time did not always end happily. I had seen enough television shows and heard enough stories to know that. And then there was my own reality. My mother’s decision to place me for adoption had led me to Jeremy and Dorothy Lipster—to the horrendous foster life that followed. She could not have known what would happen to me, but still, I could not allow myself to hope for too much from this first meeting.
That night, when I lay in bed, fear crept in where excitement had lived only hours earlier. Too many people in my life had already let me down. The joy of my mother being found slowly tightened into something anxious and painful inside my chest.
What if she changes her mind and cancels?What if she meets me and decides she does not want to keep in touch after all?More than anything, I wanted to put my curiosity to rest and get answers.
I wanted to know the truth.
Her truth.
Her side of the story.
And maybe one day, if life allowed it, even my father’s.
As I drifted off to sleep, I made a decision not to get overly excited or too optimistic.
Life was a roller coaster, and I knew better than to trust the climb too much.
During the week,I talked to Lucas about it.
“Remember how I told you about adoption, sweetheart?” I asked him.
Lucas nodded.
“Okay. So I just found out that an agency found my birth mother.”
“Is she going to come and see us, Mama?”
“Yes, she will be coming this weekend.”
“So is she my grandma... like Nana Maureen?”
“She is your grandmother,” I said gently, “but you can’t call her that yet because we still don’t know much about each other.”
Lucas frowned, trying to understand.
“She and I haven’t built that relationship yet to name and label it,” I explained. “That will take a bit more time.”
“I understand, Mama. I hope she likes us.” Lucas smiled.
“Me too, baby. Me too.”
The following Saturday,preparations were in full swing in the kitchen with Geeta. Pots clinked, vegetables piled up on the counter, and the smell of spices and fresh ingredients filled theroom. While chopping vegetables, my mind wandered despite myself.
If my birth parents gave me away, there must have been something wrong with me.Maybe I was a mistake.The thought crashed into me, forcing me to stop for a second. I shook my head and tried to focus on the present.
Elle had already apologized because she could not make it. It was her father’s birthday that weekend.
The day before, I had gone to see Jack at the restaurant with Emma.
“This is good news, Jiya,” Jack had said warmly. “I am so happy for you.”He had come around the bar and hugged me. “Maureen and I will be there. We can’t wait.”
Jack and Maureen had become like the parents I never had. Over the past months, we had grown incredibly close. Jack supported me with the restaurant, invited me for the holidays, and when I declined, he and Maureen still showed up the next day with gifts. He rushed to my house when Emma was born and had always worn his protective father’s hat around me, especially after I finally told him the truth about my life.
About two months after Emma was born, while I was cleaning the garage, Jack came over with food. We sat in the garage drinking lemonade, and he had asked me, “Don’t you think your parents would want to know how their new granddaughter is doing?”
“I’m an orphan, Jack,” I had said, looking at him while fighting back tears. “I don’t know who my parents are.”
That had been the moment I opened up to him. I still did not know why I had done it so completely, but I told him about my whole life, and he just sat there and listened. I never revealed Caleb’s name or mentioned any of the other members of the Evans family. He never pushed either. He did not ask. He simply listened.
