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And to think that there were more, more that Mom and Dad couldn’t bring with them, that they couldn’t fit into this small room.
I hold my hand against my heart as my chest tightens. I miss that old house, too. I still remember every room in it, every piece of furniture. I never thought Mom and Dad would sell it. They never told me they were going to. They just told me after, when it was already sold.
God, I miss that house. I miss how big it was, how cozy, how warm and beautiful it looked when all the lights were on, how peaceful and not the least bit terrifying when all the lights were off. I miss the smell of hardwood. I miss the views from the windows. I miss the fireplace. Maybe that’s why I went to Rainier’s apartment.
And I miss the outside of that house, too. The trees. Mom’s flower garden. Dad’s vegetable patch. The swing I used to swing on. The dogs that used to run around.
I promise that one day, when I’ve earned enough money from being a doctor, I’ll buy it back so that Mom and Dad can retire in it and I can go home to it and maybe let my children grow up in it like I did.
That’s not all I want to do for my parents, though. I want them to live comfortably, to have everything they need and want. I want them to see the world. I want someone to take care of them. They deserve the best life, just like the one they’ve given me.
Someday.
I spot the boxes containing the Christmas decorations in a corner. They’re hard to miss because of the tinsel and ribbons spilling out of them. Plus one of them has a Christmas tree doodled on the side, probably by my mom.
I walk towards them, but just as I’m about to grab the box on the top of the heap, something else catches my eye – a small, wooden box on the floor.
I remember that box. I remember seeing it in my parents’ closet when I was hiding there, pretending to be in a cave. I remember trying to open it before my mom caught me and got angry. Very angry. That was one of the few times I ever saw her like that. She hugged me very tight that night, though, as she tucked me into bed, and the next day, we all went to the amusement park and I forgot all about the box.
Until now.
Why did Mom want to keep this box from me? Why did she want me to forget it?
I pick the box up. It’s heavier than I expected, so I put it on top of a bigger box. I blow away as much of the dust as I can, then I lift the latches on the side of the box and open it. Inside, I find a small pink blanket with the name of a hospital in Minneapolis stitched into it. It looks like one of those blankets from the nursery that they wrap newborns in.
My eyebrows furrow. Was this blanket mine?
As I unfold it, something falls out. A silver necklace. I pick it up and run my thumb over the pendant, which is shaped like a butterfly with a tiny blue gem in the middle. A sapphire?
I’m confused. Was this necklace mine, too? If so, why did Mom and Dad never give it to me? I put it back in the box, thinking I’ll bring the whole thing down and ask them tomorrow. As I do, I notice that there’s an envelope at the bottom.
Curious, I take it out and open it. Inside, there’s only one piece of paper – a birth certificate with the name Elizabeth Quinn Northup, born to Samantha Northup, aged twenty-five.
Northup?
That, however, is not the most surprising piece of information on that paper. It’s that the date of birth is exactly the same as mine.
~
“I guess it’s about time we told you,” my mom – the woman I thought was my mother all these years – says with a sigh as my dad – the man I’ve always thought of as my father – clutches her trembling hand. “Yes, we did adopt you.”
I clasp my hand over my mouth. I had a feeling I was, ever since I saw that pink blanket in that mysterious box. I kept it close to me all night, barely getting any sleep. Each time I shut my eyes, questions flooded my head.
Who is Samantha Northup? Is she related to the same Northups I keep hearing about, that rich family? If so, why did she give me up? Is she still alive? And what about my father? Who is he? Where is he?
I draw a deep breath. Now, I can finally get some answers.
