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“No, but I knew you were.” After the conversation about Brandon, I could see the demeanor shift in James. He barely paid attention to the movie, opting to be on his phone most of the time and he didn’t even text me. Once the movie was over, he got up and went downstairs sulking like a moody teenager while Monica and I watched another movie. It wasn’t until about one in the morning that we both came upstairs. I waited about forty minutes to hear the sound of Monica’s noise machine she can’t sleep without before I made my way downstairs.
“Are we being unrealistic? Thinking this could be something long term?”
My heart begins to pound in my chest as I let his words sink in. I know he doesn’t mean to hurt me, but his words cut deep as if they’re slicing through me. “It’s going to be tough, but what is realistic anyway? The beauty of life is we can create our own reality.”
“I just don’t want to make your life any harder than it has been, Gab.”
I hear the implication in his voice. I was adopted very young and while I wouldn’t particularly call my life hard, I did have a pretty tough sixteenth year. But it was my fault. I went looking for answers that I didn’t want.
Two years Prior:
“Are you nervous?” James asks me as we stare up at the last known location of my birth mother. I had started doing some digging into my past, wondering about my roots and potentially a birth father that wasn’t listed on my birth certificate. I didn’t know anything about my birth mother except for the fact that she passed away shortly after I was born, but maybe I had a grandmother or an aunt or cousin or anyone that could tell me something about this part of me that I know nothing about.
I had gone to my parents, and while I didn’t expect pushback because they’re two of the most understanding people in the world, I was worried about hurting their feelings as I’m sure most adopted children feel when they’re prepared to go looking into their birth parents. Calvin and Virginia Calloway were my parents, my family, the people I loved most in the world perhaps even more than I loved James because they changed my life in the blink of an eye. I used to think of them as my saviors. Still do. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt them or make them think that I didn’t consider them my parents. That they were simply placeholders or substitutes.
But they hugged me and told me they loved me and that they understood, but also that there was no way in hell I was going to Mississippi by myself.
Naturally, James agreed with that and took off from work to come with me.
Our dad is also here in case we needed him legally for any reason, but he opted to stay at the hotel because he knew James could handle this.
“A little,” I reply in response to James’ question. There’s a car in the driveway so I know someone lives here and I’m apprehensive of who that someone might be. I rub my hands down my clothes suddenly wishing I hadn’t changed from the original outfit I had on. “Do I look okay? Does it seem like I’m trying too hard?” I look down at myself, kicking myself for not dressing more casually and not my usual attire which looks like I belong in an episode of Gossip Girl. I opted for a plaid skirt and a shirt with a jacket that matched over it. “I look ridiculous, let’s go,” I say turning back to the car that we rented when we got down here.
The neighborhood is certainly different than where I live in Connecticut and I worry I’m coming off as the ‘poor little rich girl’ coming to the south on a quest for self discovery before returning back to her life.
“You look great, Gabrielle, and we aren’t going anywhere.” He turns me around to face him, keeping his hands on my shoulder and I have to actively tell myself that it’s an innocent touch to avoid getting worked up. “It’s normal to be nervous. I wish there was more that I could do to help.”
“Just being here is enough,” I tell him, and it’s the truth. James has always dropped everything for me when I need him and I shouldn’t be surprised that he’d be here for one of the biggest moments of my life.
He takes my hand in his and squeezes it. “I’ll always be here for you, Gabrielle.”
“I know.” I beam up at him, knowing that no matter what happens, James would always be my family.
We walk up the somewhat rickety steps and I note the weather worn porch furniture and the leaves coating the area despite the fact that it’s only the first week of September.
I take a deep breath when I hear the rich timber of his voice right in my ear. “When you’re ready.”
“I’m ready,” I tell him before knocking on the door. I don’t hear anything on the other side, so I knock again and I hear a gruff voice bellow through the door.
“Alright, I’m coming.”
James immediately moves closer to me I assume to ensure I feel safe because the voice doesn’t sound particularly warm or welcoming.
The door opens and the first thing I notice is the resemblance. We have to be related somehow! A smile crosses my face at the idea of meeting family as he opens the screen door.
“Can I help y’all?” He’s older, maybe like the age of who would be my grandfather, with dark brown eyes behind glasses perched low on his nose and salt and pepper unkempt hair. He has a long grey beard and two small gold hoops in one ear. He is about the same skin color as me, maybe a little lighter and despite his grey hair and the wrinkles he appears to be in decent shape despite his all black sweatsuit.
“Yes, hi, I mean… hello, how are you?” I say nervously.
“Who’s asking?”
“Ummm me?” I respond. Is this the Southern Hospitality people talk about? He doesn’t respond and I shake my head. “Right, get to the point. I’m Gabrielle and ummm…I was born here in Mississippi but I was put up for adoption when I was a baby and the last known location of my birth mother is here? So I just thought…”
He takes a step outside, closing the door behind him and James immediately pulls me backwards and somewhat behind him. “You just thought, what?” He narrows his eyes and I see a hint of something angry behind them. “If y’all looking for Missy she’s been gone a long time.”
“Missy? Is that ummm Melinda?” He nods. “She was…my mother.”
“Thought so. You look like her.”
