Olivia’s quiet for a few moments, processing. “I didn’t know you felt that way about your adoption,” she says finally. “Annie’s never mentioned that it bothers her.”
I shrug. “I don’t think it does. But that doesn’t mean it can’t bother me,” I say gently.
“No, of course. Sorry.” She rests her chin on top of my bare shoulder.
“And while I’ve always had that feeling of something not being right inside me, I didn’t actually know how to put words to it until recently. I took a developmental psychology class in college where we talked about attachment theory and how abandonment and grief can impact secure attachments between parents and children. It all felt so … familiar.”
“So, what about your parents? Dawn and Ted, I mean. You don’t feel like you … like you ‘attached’ to them?”
“No, I do. I love my mom and dad. They’re the best. But I also felt like I was always trying to prove to them that I was worth keeping. Not consciously, but I did well in school because that made my mom proud, and I worked hard at baseball because that made my dad proud. They never suggested that I needed to earn my keep or anything, but that feeling inside me was driving me.”
Olivia’s quiet again. “You’re really self-aware about all of this,” she says softly.
I chuckle mirthlessly. “That took time. There’s a term used in the adult adoptee community: coming out of the fog. It means you’re ready to acknowledge and start to deal with your negative emotions around your adoption instead of repressing them. Once I came out of the fog with the help of that psychology class, I felt really confused and kind of angry. I started seeing a therapist who was familiar with and competent in adoption issues. She’s helped me talk through a lot of this stuff.”
“I had no idea, but Gage … I’m proud of you. I wish I would have been there to support you through all that.”
I don’t know why she says that, because we both know she wasn’t there because she cut me out of her life, abandoned me after high school. What I don’t tell her is that her leaving me is what made that niggling feeling inside me grow and fester so that when I read the part in my developmental psychology textbook about attachment theory, it resonated. That feeling that told me that relationships are not permanent, and the people I love would leave me, got louder because of her.
Of course, she was a teenager and couldn’t possibly understand the implications of her actions back then. I didn’t even know at the time why I reacted the way I did.
I toss my head to clear my thoughts. Although all too often it doesn’tfeellike it, high school graduation and the way that Olivia and I parted ways all those years ago are all in the past.
Right now, in the present, I’m with Olivia, and I can pretend that she’ll never leave me again so I can enjoy this time with her.
Speaking of which, I dip my head to place a lingering kiss on Olivia’s forehead. “Thanks,” I tell her.
She tilts her chin up to give me better access to her lips, but instead, I kiss her temple and then her cheekbone right under her eye. From there, I taste her skin down her jawline and onto her neck.
She shifts even closer and kicks her feet in the water for the momentum to wriggle her body up, so our faces are inches apart.
With a smirk, I kiss her neck again, and she whimpers, clearly wanting my lips on hers.
So, I bring my mouth close enough that I’m hovering next to her lips. And then even closer.
At the last second, instead of kissing her, I push myself away from the raft and start swimming back to shore.
I laugh as her frustrated grumble follows me across the water.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” she shouts after me.
I turn my head enough to call back, “That’s what you get for cheating in the race!”
“Gage!” she roars, and I hear the splash of her chasing me down.
That’s where I want us to be, honestly—her chasing me for a change. Because while my little trick is revenge for her pulling my leg hair earlier, it’s also maybe a little bit for abandoning me all those years ago, too.
Chapter twenty
Gage
Anotherweekofcampwith another group of wild, hilarious ten-year-olds passes. We’re about halfway through the summer already, and though those first couple of weeks seemed slow paced, the time is flying past now. I’d like it to slow down again because I need this time with Olivia to last as long as possible.
This weekend, Matt invited me to drive to New Braunfels with him and a group of several other counselors to spend Saturday at Schlitterbahn Waterpark, stay overnight, and come back to camp Sunday morning before the new batch of campers arrive.
Saturdays are my days with Olivia, and I’m not about to give up even a single one, so I extended the invitation to her and hoped she’d agree to come.
She didn’t need a lot of convincing. Olivia loves water parks. We used to go to Schlitterbahn all the time growing up—it’s only about an hour from where we live in Austin—and in high school, Olivia, Annie, and I spent a lot of time there during summer breaks.
