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Overwhelmed with a sudden need to tell him everything, she stood on her knees so they were eye level, her words coming out in a rush. “Lucas, there are things I haven’t told you. Things I can’t keep inside anymore. Please. I can’t do this alone.”
He rubbed the back of her neck as she trembled with the need to spew all of the toxic information built up inside of her. Eating at her from the inside out.
“I know that. We’ll get to them. In due time.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Your ability to trust has been injured by people systematically letting you down. I was one of those people. But I swear I’m going to be there for you this time. I swear to God.”
He was so wonderful. So kind and patient and strong. So much so, she felt compelled to hold on tight to him. To never let go. To, for once in her life, trust someone with everything. Things that not even Marshall knew. But it wasn’t right to share everything without Mia. She had made that mistake too many times. They both deserved to know the truth, together.
She cupped his face. “I can’t tell you without Mia. I don’t want you to know anything without her knowing as well. At the same time. No more secrets, no more lies.”
He nodded with stern lips. “Then we better get going.”
Dressing in record speed and gulping her hot coffee, giving herself third degree burns, they jumped in Lucas’s truck and drove to the hospital.
Once inside, it was all Birdie could do not to race to Mia’s room.
She passed Angus’s door to wave hello and to promise to circle back, but he appeared to still be sleeping so she kept moving with Lucas close behind.
Rushing past the nurses’ station, slowing down but not stopping, she asked if Mia was awake, and one of the nurses said she had been up a while, but had slept well during the night.
Throwing the door open, she rushed inside, only to find Mia sitting up in bed with a folder in front of her. Gazing out the window as if deep in thought.
“Hey, kiddo, I hear you got a good night’s sleep.”
Mia didn’t move. Didn’t swing her eyes in Birdie’s direction or even acknowledge she was in the room.
“Mia?” Lucas said, shutting the door behind him and following up with his own concern. “You feeling okay?”
“No. As a matter of fact I’m not,” she said with a low voice, without inflection or evidence of a life source within.
Birdie sat at the edge of the bed and reached for the phone. “Do you want us to call a nurse or the doctor?”
Mia finally gave Birdie her full attention, and it made her suck in an inhale, with the level of anger spearing toward her.
“I thought it would be fun to read my chart. You know, as a way to attempt practical application to all of the biology and chemistry classes I had to take in school.”
Lucas sat in the straight-back chair by her bed. “Did you find something that upset you?”
“You could say that.” Mia continued to stare down Birdie.
“Mia, baby, what did you find?” Birdie asked, her throat suddenly tight with undefined fear.
Mia smirked, “What a strange choice of words coming from someone who’s not my mother.”
Birdie felt her shoulders fall and closed her eyes to absorb the blow. Not as much from the information itself, but the hatred emitting from Mia’s eyes, her small body nearly wracked with it.
She lifted the folder and said, “You both gave blood when I was admitted. But there’s a problem.” She kept her focus on Birdie. “You have type O blood. Dad has type B. If you were to have a child together, they would have type O or B. I’m type AB. There’s no way you can be my mother based on your blood type.”
“Mia, I…”
“I asked the doctor. Because I thought maybe I was wrong, but he wouldn’t look me in the eye. All he would say was I needed to speak about this with my parents. Thing is, I don’t know who my mother is.”
Birdie couldn’t believe this was happening. That this was the way Mia would discover the truth. Mia, whom she had slept next to when she was an infant for what seemed months because she was so colicky. Mia, who took her first steps right into Birdie’s arms on a Sunday afternoon while trying to feed her crushed avocado and watching endless reruns ofDora the Explorer.Mia, whose first word was “Mama,” Birdie never doubting for a moment who it was she was referring to.
Mia’s razor-edged voice pierced her heart. “Aren’t you going to deny it? Isn’t that what you do, Birdie? Lie and deny?”
Birdie’s arms turned into heavy weights, and her chest ached from being referred to by her first name, instead of Mom. Just like she had referred to her own mother. Because she had failed to earn the right to be called otherwise.
“No,” Birdie whispered. “I’m not going to deny it.”
