Far From the Tree

by Robin Benway

  She hoped, she hoped, she hoped.

  “Do you think Mark and Linda would adopt me?” Maya asked. She was sitting with her feet in the pool again. Grace was glad that Maya never suggested she go swimming. She was still trying to figure out her post-baby body, and a bathing suit wasn’t at the top of her list. It wasn’t even on her list. She had tried Googling, but everything online was for grown women, actual moms. There wasn’t anything about what to do with pregnancy stretch marks when you were sixteen, nothing about trying to make your body feel like yours again when someone else had taken up residence in it for nine months and you still hadn’t even finished high school.

  “Probably,” Joaquin said. He had his feet in the water, too, but he was at the opposite end of the pool, sitting in the shade. “They’ve got an extra bedroom.”

  “Score.” Maya adjusted her sunglasses a little bit.

  “But I told them that I didn’t want to go through with the adoption.”

  Grace saw Maya’s head spin in Joaquin’s direction almost as fast as her own. “What?” Grace said. “Why? Did they—”

  “No, I just thought it’d be a bad idea. You know, because of last time and all.” Joaquin shrugged a little. “Things are good now, like they are. I don’t want to ruin it.”

  “Joaquin,” Grace started to say.

  “Can everyone please stop saying my name like I don’t know it?” he interrupted her. “Please? Can we talk about something else?”

  “Good idea,” Maya said, pulling her legs out of the water and getting to her feet. “Let’s talk about snacks. More specifically, cheese and crackers. Most specifically, cheese and crackers in my mouth.”

  Joaquin got up and followed her inside, Grace a step behind them. The heat was on but Grace felt a little chilled. When she had been pregnant, she had felt like everything was twenty degrees hotter than it was, but now she just always felt cold.

  She had spent the past week mostly on her computer, going back and forth between researching Melissa Taylor and researching teenage birth mom support groups. Michael, the therapist, had given Grace a list of suggestions, but when she looked them up, they looked too forced, too false, a bunch of strangers smiling at a camera. Grace couldn’t imagine sitting with them, talking about Peach.

  The Melissa Taylor research was even more dismal. Even with her parents’ help, there wasn’t much. All the info that the adoption center had was either classified or no longer valid, and Grace was starting to feel the same way she had when Peach had gone home with her parents, like she was losing something that she would never be able to get back again.

  “Grace?”

  Her head jerked up. “What?”

  Maya gestured toward her, holding a sleeve of Ritz crackers. “You want some, Spacey Lady?”

  “Of course,” she said, sitting down on the stool at the kitchen island. Joaquin was digging around in the refrigerator, looking for something, and Grace took the crackers from Maya and started to arrange them on a plate.

  “New necklace?” Maya asked her, digging out the cutting board from a kitchen cabinet. “Where’d you get it?”

  Grace’s hand immediately flew to her neck. She had bought the chain long enough so that she could hide it down the front of her shirt, but it had apparently escaped.

  She had found the delicate charms online, a tiny gold M and a tiny gold peach, and used the money from her old clothing boutique job to pay for them. Grace had wondered if they were stupid, sentimental things to buy, but when she put the necklace around her neck and looked in the mirror, it felt right.

  “Oh, it’s just this old necklace from my grandma,” she said, slipping it down her shirt again. “My mom found a bunch of her old jewelry.”

  “What’s the M stand for?”

  Grace just shook her head. “No idea. I guess my grandma had her secrets, too.”

  The peach thunked against her heart before settling onto her skin.

  Her phone buzzed just then, and Grace glanced over at it.

  Hey, are you around next week? I found some straws that need to be disemboweled.

  It was Rafe, of course, and Grace tried to swallow back the butterflies she felt when she saw it. “Who’s that?” Joaquin asked.

  “Yeah, Grace, who is that?” Maya asked. “You look a little . . .”

  “You’re blushing,” Joaquin said.

  “I am not,” Grace told them. “He’s just a friend.”

  Maya’s eyes lit up. “Oh, he is not just a friend,” she said. “No one ever says he’s just a friend when he’s just a friend. Joaquin, back me up here.”

  Joaquin put three wedges of cheese down on the countertop. “She’s right.”

  “Is she?” Grace asked him. “Is she, really?”

  “I have no idea. I’m just scared to disagree with her.”

  “She’s your little sister,” Grace said. “You have seniority over her.”

  Maya just preened a little as Grace’s phone buzzed again. “Ooh, is it him? Is it him? What’s his name?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Well, that’s unorthodox,” Maya said, “but hey, I don’t judge. Let me see!”

  “No!” Grace cried. “Oh my God, go away. I thought you wanted cheese and crackers.”

  “I can eat cheese and crackers and help you talk to a boy! I’m really good at multitasking!”

  “Get away!” Grace said, using an unopened sleeve of crackers to defend herself. “Oh my God, you’re the worst!”

  “Get her phone, Joaquin!” Maya screamed, chasing a giggling Grace around the island.

  “No way,” Joaquin said, calmly slicing up pieces of cheese. “I touched my old foster sister’s phone once. Big mistake.”

  “Listen to him!” Grace said. “Maya!”

  “Victory!” Maya said as Grace felt the phone slip out of her grasp.

  “If you text him, I’ll kill you.”

  “Oh, you will not.”

  “I’ll maim you.”

  “I can live with that.” Maya, a little out of breath, started to read the message. “‘Dear Grace,’” she read, “‘it’s been another month and Milly is changing so much, so fast.’”

  Grace felt all of the breath leave her body.

  “‘She continues to be the precious light of our lives, and we think of you every day, of course.’”

  “Stop,” Grace said, but she couldn’t make her voice louder than a whisper.

  Maya had frozen in place, her face going from gleeful to confused. “There’s a picture of a baby,” she said. “Grace, what is—”

  Grace forced her legs to move forward, and she swiped the phone from Maya so fast that it clattered to the floor. “Stop it,” she hissed. “I told you to leave it the fuck alone, Maya.”

  Next to her, Joaquin was standing still, the cheese slicer still in his hand, watching both of them.

  The silence was horrible.

  “Who’s Milly?” Maya finally asked. “Is that your baby, Grace?”

  Grace closed her eyes, praying that it was a dream, that she could go back in time and wake up in her bed a year ago and have everything go back to normal. “Shut up,” she whispered.

  “Did you have a baby?” Maya asked again, and she sounded genuinely confused. “Grace, answer me.”

  “It’s none of your business!” Grace screamed at her, reaching down with shaking hands to pick up her phone.

  “You had a baby and you didn’t tell us?” Maya shouted. “Are you serious? I told you about my mom and her drinking and Joaquin told you about Natalie and the accident, and you’ve been keeping this from us?”

  “Why would I tell you?” Grace shot back. “So you could just say that I abandoned her, the way our mom abandoned us? Or so you could call me a slut, like Adam did?”

  Joaquin’s face went solemn. “Oh, shit,” he said softly. “That’s what that was about?”

  “I didn’t abandon her, okay?” Grace cried. “I found a really great family for her. And she’s perfect a
nd they love her and she’s happy! She’s going to be so happy and she’ll have everything I couldn’t give her! Did you ever think about that when you were busy hating our mom, Maya? That maybe she did it because she loved us?”

  Maya looked stunned. “Grace,” she said.

  Grace was trying her best not to cry. “I just didn’t want you two to hate me, or say all these things about me like everyone else does. Because I love her so much and I would never . . . I would never just abandon her. That’s not what I did. I swear to God, I didn’t abandon her, but I feel so . . .” Grace was trying to gulp in air and the necklace shifted against her chest, making her physically ache. “It’s just like there’s this space where she used to be and now I can’t fill it, and I keep trying, but I’m walking around with this hole inside me and she’s not . . . she’s not . . .”

  Joaquin was the first one to grab her, and then Maya was there, too, Grace’s tears wetting her shoulder as they hugged her tight. “It’s okay,” Maya kept saying, and Joaquin’s hand was both strong and soft against her hair, and Grace pressed her face against both of them and quietly, steadily, lost her mind.

  When she woke up, it was in a room that she didn’t recognize. And then she noticed the Polaroids that were marching down one side of the wall, and the pink curtains that had been pulled shut. She had seen this room once before, what seemed like months ago. It was Maya’s, and she was in Maya’s bed, the blanket at the edge of the bed spread over her. Someone had taken her shoes off, too, and Grace glanced down to see them neatly lined up next to each other on the floor.

  “Hi,” Maya said softly, and Grace rolled over to see her curled up on the other side of the bed. “Feel better?”

  Grace rubbed at her eyes as she tried to sit up. They felt thick and swollen, and her mouth was dry. She remembered Maya and Joaquin guiding her up the stairs, still weeping, Maya saying, “Shh, sleep,” as Joaquin covered her up with the well-worn blanket.

  Grace was very touched and very mortified.

  “A little,” Grace answered. “Where’s Joaq?”

  “He went downstairs.” Maya gestured toward the half-open door. “Here, I got you a washcloth.”

  Grace took it gratefully, pressing it against her sticky eyes and cheeks. “Thank you.”

  “Of course.” Maya carefully pushed her fingers through Grace’s hair, easing out some of the tangles. “Grace? I’m sorry I stole your phone. I just thought it was a boy texting you. I didn’t—”

  “It’s okay,” Grace said, because it was. “I know you didn’t mean to. I should have told you a long time ago. You and Joaq were brave and I wasn’t.”

  “I think you’re very brave,” Maya said, still combing through her hair. “Was he your first?”

  Grace nodded.

  “Did you love him?”

  “I thought I did. But now I think that maybe I just loved being in love with him.”

  Maya nodded. “And he didn’t want to keep her?”

  “His parents didn’t want him to keep her. He signed away all his rights.”

  “Oh, boys,” Maya sighed. “You know, none of this would have happened if you had just been a lesbian like your adorable little sister.”

  Grace smiled a little. “Shut up.”

  “I’m serious,” Maya said, but Grace could tell from her tone of voice that she wasn’t. “At least tell me the sex was good. If you have to get pregnant and have a baby, the sex should be mind-blowing.”

  “It was fine,” Grace told her.

  Maya just wrinkled her nose. “Fine is probably the worst word to describe sex,” she said.

  Grace had never been so happy to see Joaquin walk into a room.

  “Hey,” he said. “You’re awake.” He had three bottles of water and he handed one to each of them. “How do you feel?”

  “Like shit,” Grace admitted. “All the time.”

  Maya nestled closer to her, pressing up against Grace’s side as Joaquin sat down on the edge of the bed next to them. “I’m sorry if we made you feel like you couldn’t tell us,” Maya murmured. “I’m so sorry, Grace. We both are. We didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay,” Grace whispered, then sipped at the water. It felt so good and cold and clean that it was almost enough to wash everything else away. “I should have told you sooner.” She glanced toward Joaquin. “I didn’t want you to think that I left her like our mom left you.”

  Joaquin just looked at her like she had three heads. “I would never think that,” he said. “Not in a million years.”

  “Can I ask a question, though?” Maya asked.

  “Of course.” Grace sipped at her water again.

  “Is her name Milly?” Maya sounded very, very small. “That’s what it said in the email.”

  Grace nodded, digging around under her shirt until she found the necklace, then pulled it out. “They named her Amelía. Milly for short. But I used to call her Peach when I was pregnant with her.” She pressed her thumb against the charms, separating them a little. “It’s not my grandmother’s. I bought it online.”

  Maya reached over and took the chain in her hands. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “She’s beautiful, too. She looked like you in that photo.”

  “Where’s the dad?” Joaquin asked. “Is it Adam?”

  “God, no,” Grace said, sitting up a little bit more. “It was my boyfriend at the time, Max.” Grace closed her eyes briefly against the stab of pain, and Joaquin reached over and put his hand on her arm as Maya nuzzled her chin against her shoulder.

  “Asshole,” Maya murmured.

  “His loss,” Joaquin said.

  “I needed him, you know?” Grace twisted the charms around and around, tangling the chain around her neck. “I needed him and he wasn’t there. He got crowned homecoming king the night she was born. He wasn’t even with me in the room.”

  Maya muttered something under her breath that did not sound complimentary.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Do you get to see her? I mean, if the parents are sending you updates . . .”

  “We agreed to two visits a year, but I don’t know if I can do it,” Grace said. “I don’t know if I can see her again. I don’t know if that’s what she needs.”

  “What about what you need, though?” Joaquin asked. His hand was still on Grace’s arm, as if he was afraid that she would suddenly sprout wings and fly out of the room.

  Grace just shrugged. “It’s not about me.”

  “This is why you need to find our mom,” Maya said softly. “That’s why you keep bringing it up.”

  Grace bit her lip so she wouldn’t burst into tears again. She could tell that Maya and Joaquin were exchanging a glance over her head. It made her feel small when they did that, and she sort of liked it and sort of hated it.

  “I’ve been trying,” she admitted. “But there’s nothing. The letters my parents sent through the lawyer got returned; they don’t have a working number. She’s a ghost.”

  Maya shifted a little. “No. She’s not.”

  “What?” Joaquin said. “What are you talking about?”

  Maya looked at both of them, then started to climb off the bed. “C’mon,” she said. “Follow me.”

  “Maya,” Grace said, and the sound of her own voice scared her. “What are you doing?”

  “Come on,” Maya just said again. “Before Lauren and my dad get back.”

  Joaquin helped Grace off the bed, then kept his arm around her shoulders as they followed Maya downstairs into what looked like an office. Grace had never seen her look so solemn before, and it scared her. “Maya,” she said again.

  Maya just ushered them inside, then shut the door and locked it before going over to a file cabinet. “When we were little,” she said, “Lauren and I used to play Detectives. We’d hide around the house, pretend that we were finding clues, you know, stupid shit. But then, one time, we found this.” She opened the cabinet and pulled out a small black box with a combination lock on it.

  Grace
felt her heart move from her chest to her throat.

  “I knew it was about me,” Maya said, setting it down on the desk. “So one night, after everyone was asleep, I came downstairs and worked on the combination until it opened.”

  She was spinning the lock as if she had done so a million times before. Grace wondered if maybe she had.

  “There we go,” she said as it popped open. Then she reached inside and pulled out a small stack of papers, spreading them out on the granite-topped desk.

  Grace wondered why everything in Maya’s house felt so cold all the time.

  The three of them leaned in close, heads together, sifting through the papers. Grace saw Maya’s birth certificate, her parents’ names carefully typed in, and a small set of baby footprints. There was some official-looking paperwork, and then Maya reached for an envelope with a red “Return to Sender” stamp on it. “Here,” she said, handing it to Grace.

  Grace’s hands were shaking as she took it. At first, she couldn’t figure out why it was so important, and then she saw it.

  The address.

  “Your parents sent a letter to her house?” she gasped. Her hands were shaking so bad that she had to hand it to Joaquin.

  Maya just nodded.

  “How . . . when did you find this? How did they even get it?”

  “I was ten,” Maya said. “And I don’t know. They don’t even know that I found it.”

  “Did you ever look it up? Did you write her? Did you . . .” Grace forced herself to slow down. Next to her, Joaquin looked stricken, and he kept turning the envelope over and over, as if looking for another clue, as if he was playing Detectives, too.

  “No,” Maya said. “I just put it back. I used to take it out every now and then and look at it, but I just couldn’t do it. I guess,” she added after a pause, “maybe I was waiting for you two.”

  Grace reached over and put her hand on Joaquin’s, stilling his movements. “Joaq,” she said, “do you want to do this?”

  “Well, you—”

  “No, not me. You. Do you want to do this? It’s okay if you don’t.”

  “Totally, Joaquin,” Maya said. “You have . . . we know . . . fuck, I don’t know what to say.”

  “No, I want to,” Joaquin said. “I want her to see me.” His voice reminded Grace of the ocean, of sand being sucked back into the sea. “It’s easier with you two.”