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I’m midway through bringing the mug to my mouth when her words catch me off guard, and I spill the hot liquid all over me.
“Ah, fuck!” I exclaim, grabbing a napkin to clean myself up. “What are you talking about?”
The realization that I have no idea what she’s talking about overtakes her features, and regret that she mentioned it is written all over her face.
“Cheryl,” I plead. “What are you talking about?”
“Andi,” she begins. “Shortly after you and Michael moved to California, there was a knock on my door. When I answered it, they said they were your parents. You weren’t here, and I told them that, but I would pass along their information to you, and you could make the decision on your own.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I exclaim a little louder than I intend.
“I told Michael, and he said he was going to look into it to make sure they were legit and were your parents. He said he found some questionable things about their past and told you, and when you found out, he assured me that you wanted nothing to do with them. I tried to press him for more information or details, but he wouldn’t tell me. Just said that there was a reason they gave you up and that you weren’t comfortable meeting them. He asked me not to bring it up because you were so sensitive about the whole thing. I’m so sorry, Andi. I had no idea.” Her voice shakes as she fights back her tears.
They came looking for me? Why would Michael not tell me?
“Did they look okay? Did they look like they were bad people?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No, which is why I bugged Michael about it. They looked like good, nice people who seemed genuinely concerned about you. They even thanked me for taking you in. But you just can’t tell with people these days. Oh lord, I should have told you. I took years away from those parents like Michael took years away from me.”
Now, she lets her tears fall, but I’m not angry with Cheryl. Ultimately, it’s not her fault. It’s just another weapon in Michael’s arsenal of lies.
“Why wouldn’t he tell me?” I ask frantically, desperate for answers.
She lays her hand on top of mine, but the touch startles me, so I yank mine away.
“I have no idea, sweetie. He said that he hired a private investigator who did some digging and found out that they weren’t good people. He said he told you all about it, and you were adamant about not wanting to ever meet them,” she says.
“That’s why he always backed me up when I would say I didn’t want to know them. And if I ever started to change my mind, he would reaffirm my decision not to know,” I say the words out loud, but it’s more like a realization for myself.
Every time I would bring up my parents, Michael was quick to change the subject. He always told me that I should just assume that they are dead, and he always applauded my decision not to want anything to do with them since theydidn’t want me.
But why manipulate me about this? Did he just enjoy toying with me? Or was there a real reason? Did he find something that would have hurt me had I known?
My head is spinning with all of these questions, plus about fifty more. Suddenly, I feel like that alcohol from last night is going to come rising my throat.
“And they never came back asking about me again?”
“No, they didn’t. I figured that you or Michael talked to them to tell them to let it be, but I don’t know.” There is so much pity in Cheryl’s eyes I can barely stand it.
She stands up and hurriedly walks out of the room, leaving me sitting there with my mouth hanging open.
What the hell is happening?
This is a whole lot of information to process all at once, and I’m not sure how to handle any of it. I feel like the past ten years of my life haven’t been my own. It’s like I’ve been a puppet, and someone has been pulling all of my strings. My life has been a movie with someone else sitting in the director’s chair.
A moment later, Cheryl comes back in, holding a crumpled sticky note in her hand.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the lime green slip of paper.
She doesn’t answer but instead sets it on the table in front of me.
In Cheryl’s handwriting, it reads:
Kenneth and Sarah Grady
1097 Barker Ave.
Chicago, IL
