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When I moved to Colorado a year and a half ago, I blocked out everything that happened back home. It was easier to cope that way.
“I met Owen when I was twelve and he was thirteen. We didn’t start dating until I was thirteen, almost fourteen. Our families were fairly close, his family attended my father’s church so we grew up together, and I was friends with Owen’s sister, who was a year younger than me. My parents weren’t thrilled when Owen and I started dating because I was so young and my dad was worried about the trouble I might get into, but Owen was a good kid, and he became like family.” I inhale a deep breath. “When I was fifteen I got pregnant. We were stupid, careless,” I mutter. “We’d had sex plenty of times and we got cocky, I guess, thought there was no way I’d end up pregnant. And then I did. When I saw that little plus sign it was like a death sentence. I knew my parents were going to kill me. Owen was just as freaked out. I mean, we were fifteen and sixteen. We were kids. What did we know about being parents?” I take a moment to gather myself. I’ve never told anyone this. Ever. “My parents were livid when we told them. I’ve seen my dad raging mad before, once when I was playing with neighbor and we broke a window, but I’d never experienced him being this mad. He was scary silent, like the calm before a storm, and my mom was beside herself, mumbling about the shame I’d brought upon our family. Owen, oh, God … Owen tried to remain so positive, telling them that he was going to take care of me and the baby, and my dad laughed at him. He told him he was crazy if he thought he could take care of a family at his age. At the time, I was outraged, because I believed Owen, but now that I’m older I know my dad was right. We were children ourselves.” I push the eggs around my plate with the fork. I know I should try to eat something, but I can’t. Telling Jace all of this makes me feel like throwing up. “We figured telling his parents couldn’t be worse than telling mine. We were wrong. His parents were far angrier than mine, especially his dad. He was in the early stages of campaigning for Governor and thought the scandal of his son’s teen pregnancy would cost him the election.”
I startle when Jace takes my hand. My eyes meet his and he rubs his thumb across my knuckles. His touch makes me feel the tiniest bit stronger.
“My parents were against me getting an abortion, which is what Owen’s dad wanted me to do. I didn’t want that, either. So, it was decided that we’d give the baby up for adoption.” I shake my head. “I didn’t want that, either. I wanted to keep the baby but my parents refused to help me financially and Owen’s family wanted the whole thing to disappear, and Owen himself … Well, I think his parents got to him and made him see how much a baby would change his life. How it would keep him from college and following in his father’s footsteps and so I was the only one who wanted my baby but I wasn’t strong enough to fight for him. I was young, and pregnant, and no one wanted to hire me, so I couldn’t make money on my own. It became obvious that the only option was to follow through with the adoption. Owen and I at least got to pick the adoptive parents, but our parents forced us to do a closed adoption, meaning once we gave him up we got no pictures or updates on him. He was just … gone. Some days it’s hard to believe he ever existed. I got to hold him for a solid five minutes after he came out of me before they took him away. I screamed. Oh, God, Jace, I screamed so loud. I begged with them to give me more time, but they said it would be easier this way. That the more time I spent with him the harder it would be to give him up. He was so cute and small.” I wipe at my tears. I don’t know when they started but my face is completely damp. “He had a brown hair like me and Owen’s thin lips and button nose. He was perfect.”
“Is that why you call him Owen?”
I sigh. “Yeah, I suppose so. He was Owen’s mini-me except for having my hair color. I think I started calling him Owen because it was easier than naming him something I would’ve picked. If I’d done that it would’ve been too easy to dwell on what could’ve been. By calling him Owen a lot of times I just pictured, well, Owen, in my head.”
Jace squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry.”
My lower lip quivers. “I miss him. I love him so much and he doesn’t even know who I am. It was a closed adoption, so he might not even know he’s adopted. He’s old enough to be calling his adoptive parents Mommy and Daddy and that breaks my heart. I’m his mommy and I don’t exist. I’m nothing to him.”
I pull my hand from his and cover my face, sobbing for everything I’ve lost.
Every moment and memory with my son that should’ve been mine.
The first time he smiled.
The first time he laughed.
When he got his first tooth.
When he walked.
His first words.
I’ve missed all of it.
“Fuck, Nova. I’m so sorry.” I startle when his arms wrap around me. I wasn’t even aware of him getting up from the chair. I hiccup and hug him back, my tears dampening his jacket that he still hasn’t taken off.
I cling to him like he’s a buoy in the ocean and the only thing holding me up.
“I’m sorry too,” I croak. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t know how. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I ramble.
His arms tighten around me, and I feel his lips brush against the top of my head.
“I’m not mad, Nova,” he says. “Not anymore. But I am hurt. I’m hurt that you felt like you couldn’t tell me this.”
I pull back slightly so I can look at him as I speak. “If there’s anyone I could tell, it’s you. I haven’t ever told anyone this. I had him and everyone returned to their normal lives like he never even existed. My parents never spoke about him and Owen and I broke up so my only tether to him became my letters. It was the only way I could remind myself that he was real and not a figment of my imagination.”
Jace rubs my shoulders. “You were so young. You shouldn’t have
had to go through that virtually alone.”
“It is what is. I’ve learned that life is rarely fair and you have to roll with the punches.”
“I wish you would’ve had someone on your side.”
I sigh and step out of his embrace, drying my eyes. “I do too, but I’m old enough now to realize that adoption was the best thing for him. I couldn’t provide for him at that age, and the family that adopted him were good, decent, people who wanted a kid. I know they’ve taken good care of him. I just wish I’d been a part of his life. An open adoption would’ve made this a lot easier on me, but Owen’s parents insisted that it was closed. They wanted to ship the baby off and tie the whole thing up in a neat bow.” I shrug. “I finished high school and applied to as many out of state schools as I could. So, I ended up here.”
He hugs me again, pillowing his head on top of mine. “I’m thankful for whatever Divine intervention led you to here. To me.”
I close my eyes, breathing in his musky scent. “I love you,” I murmur.
“I love you, too.”
