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Brazen
Noah walks back to me, carrying something in her hand. Heaviness swarms her emotions. Her innocence is shrouded by something harrowing. I started out my day by surprising Noah and trying to make her smile, but it has taken a drastic turn.
She returns to the spot between my legs, and my arms encircle her. I kiss the back of her head while wondering what I’m about to discover.
“What is that, baby?” I ask about what she has and she turns to face me.
“This is the letter I told you about from my mother that I haven’t opened yet. I want to open it, and I want you with me when I do.”
My emotions are mixed. There is pride that she wants me close while she tackles this, but it’s minuscule compared to the fear I have for Noah concerning what she’ll read.
“I’m here,” I tell her.
Her finger traces unidentifiable shapes onto the front of my shirt.
“I blamed myself. How could I not? I was just a little kid,” she whispers like she’s admitting a dirty secret.
“Do you still?” My arms tighten around her. It might kill me if she says yes.
“Some days. Most days, no. It’s hard to keep out the self-blame completely. She kept me for six years. How did she just decide that, one day, she no longer wanted me? What was the catalyst?” Her voice gets stronger as she speaks, but I can clearly hear the torment within her.
“Noah, you have no fault, no matter what’s written in there. You were a kid, her kid, and there is nothing you could have done to warrant being given away. Maybe something happened where she just couldn’t keep you. It must have been a hard choice.”
I can’t fathom any of this, especially growing up with the mother I did. My mom was gentle and always put me first. Something I never took for granted when I had Sunday’s parents who were prime examples of people who practiced conditional love.
“Do you remember your last day with her?”
“No, I remember my mom kept talking about an appointment. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized that was her hearing to waive her rights. I mostly just remember the man who took me to Golden Heights and the way he spoke to me with a mixture of pity and kindness. It took me a long time to understand I wasn’t coming home. But maybe the answer is in this letter. Who knows if I can even trust what she says though?”
“Open it. I’m here for you.” My thumb brushes against her knuckles.
With slow movements, she crinkles the envelope in her hand. I hold my breath, and she doesn’t take her eyes off me.
“Go on, baby. You’re strong, and you can handle this.”
She blinks, freeing a tear. I wipe the wetness with the pad of my thumb and then lightly kiss her nose.
“Let’s find out the real story,” I whisper against her skin.
Then, she slowly breaks the seal of the envelope with her pointer finger. I hold on to her knees just so I can feel her skin against mine and hope to transfer some comfort. Once the paper is unfolded in her hands, her eyes quickly scan from left to right. She reads it over once in her head and then closes her eyes tightly. I pull her into my chest and brush my hands against her back.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you, Noah. You just did something huge. This letter has been in the back of your mind, plaguing you. Just concentrate on that. You did it!” I lift her head and cradle her face.
Is the letter filled with loving words and fond memories? Is it written like a caring mother writing to her child who is merely away at camp with a return date? Are the pages filled with flowery accounts of her only child? Or is it riddled with guilt and desire for forgiveness? Is each sentence panicked and rushed? Maybe it’s full of rambling or sentences that are cut short.
“I want to read it to you,” she tells me.
“Are you sure? You don’t have to share this with me if you don’t want to.” I lower the paper, so I get a clear view of her eyes.
“I’m sure. I want you to know everything about me and within my heart. I want to share the good and the bad with you. I’m stronger with you by my side.”
“You’re strong all on your own, Noah.”
Her kiss is wet with tears as she leans forward and gently presses her lips to mine.
“Take your time. There is no rush.”
She pulls back and wipes at her cheeks with the back of her hand.
