Meeting Max

by Richard Brumer

  “What do you mean by now?”

  “I mean soon. I just had your baby. I held him in my arms and snuggled with him. When I was at the birthing home, I imagined keeping him and dreamed we would have him with us always. He was so cute with his black hair like yours and my blue eyes…a combination of both of us. I want to get married now, Rick.” Suddenly she looked angry. “It was wrong to give him up. We both know that.”

  Rick lowered his head. “I know how you feel.”

  “No, you don’t know how I feel!” she snapped. “How could you? I carried him in my body. I brought him into this world. I was a mother, his mother, and I loved him from the moment I held him. He was yours and mine. I had seventy-two agonizing hours to change my mind and I was tortured by that. You could never understand. I thought of you and cried. How could you know what it was like for me? How could you ever know?”

  Rick sipped his coffee as he looked down. He didn’t know what to say. Maybe it was wrong to do what they did, but they’d had no other choice. All he could do now was listen to her.

  “We can get married now,” she repeated. “What difference would it make? We know we want to be together. When Eric was in my arms, I only knew one thing. He was our baby. When the stupid realization set in that he was going to be taken away from me, I screamed out loud and couldn’t catch my breath.

  “Our plan to give him up was all about us, Rick. Don’t you see? It was all about us, and nothing about him. What would he have wanted? It was selfish. I didn’t know you were like that, so insensitive,” she added bitterly, her lips trembling.

  “Julie, I feel your pain, I really do. I understand,” he said, knowing she was in no mood to believe that.

  “You keep saying you understand, but you’re not a woman! How could you ever know?” she shouted, her voice taking on a shrill tone. “I think we should get married now, share our lives together, and keep all our babies.”

  “What about your parents? And me being Jewish, and—”

  “I think my mom would have understood. She’s a mother. Now I really know what that means. You’re not religious anyway, so you can convert and we can bring our kids up Catholic. Then the church and everyone will be happy.”

  “That’s your solution? For us to all be Catholic and we’ll live happily ever after? This is too much for me. You know I love you and always will. Let’s take a break. We did the right thing and you know it.”

  “Whatever,” she said angrily, her face soaked with tears. She walked into the bedroom and slammed the door.

  Rick waited a while. He had another cup of coffee, then tapped gently on the bedroom door and walked in. Julie sat stooped in an armchair, staring at her knees. The flowered cardigan she wore was bright and cheerful, a stark contrast to the flashes of anger and sorrow that crossed her moist eyes. Tears fell along her cheeks. Rick wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t know how.

  “We did the right thing,” he said weakly, uncertain he believed his own words.

  Her head snapped up and she glared at him. “The right thing? Do you know what it’s like to give birth and have your baby taken from you?” She stood slowly, and then walked from the room. “No, you don’t. How could you?”

  ***

  A few weeks passed. Candlelight glowed at their bedside. Julie said nothing, but Rick knew it was a signal she wanted to make love. They kissed, felt each other, and lost themselves in their passion, where they felt no pain and no anxiety. Julie’s detachment forced Rick to act the same. Their bodies erupted into one strong burst of sexual release. Then they turned away, closed their eyes, and felt nothing.

  The tenderness of affection they once shared after making love was gone. What remained was Julie’s desire for passion. Nothing more, only the empty feelings that resulted from lust without love.

  Months went by. Nothing had changed. Julie was still overcome with depression. She lost her appetite and couldn’t sleep. Her face was drawn and pale.

  One night, they had an early dinner and walked to Washington Square Park. They sat on their usual bench across from NYU, but hardly talked. It was a beautiful evening, a little cool for spring, but the brisk breeze was refreshing.

  “I did a lot of thinking about you when I was in the birthing home,” Julie said, lowering her head.

  “I thought of you too. I felt we were still connected.”

  Julie heaved a sigh. “How do you see our future, Rick?”

  “I always think of us together. I never want to be without you.” Rick reached for her hand.

  “ Let’s get married. Why wait?”

  “Honey, don’t you think it makes sense to finish school? If we had another baby too soon, it would slow us down.”

  “Why would having a baby be a problem? We already made that mistake. I don’t think it makes any difference.”

  “Well, what about your mother and your family? I’m still Jewish.”

  “You said you don’t believe in it anymore. You could just go through a few details, become Catholic, and do some of the things the church is asking. You don’t have to believe any of it, and we can do what we want. That will satisfy my mom. Besides, you said you would do anything.”

  “You want me to become Catholic?”

  “You said you gave up being Jewish, so what difference would it make?”

  “I never said I gave up being Jewish. I am Jewish. I’ll always be Jewish. I just don’t believe in God.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense and you know it,” Julie argued.

  “Not everything has to make sense.”

  “Do you want to get married or not? Just tell me.”

  “Julie, I love you more than anything, but…”

  “It’s always I love you, but…” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Just tell me yes or no, and if you don’t know, that’s pretty sad.”

  “I do want to marry you when we finish school.”

  “Damn, what difference would it make to wait if we both want to get married?”

  “It makes a big difference. We just went through a tough time.”

  “You mean I went through a tough time. I watched Eric go through the door on the shoulder of a nurse, out of my life forever. It wouldn’t have happened if we were married. I didn’t have to go to New Jersey. That was your decision, not mine...yours! You just don’t want to get married. Admit it.”

  “Julie, we never talked about getting married so soon.”

  “You don’t want to commit. Is it love or lust, Rick? Tell me. Be honest. Do we only have some kind of sex-soaked romance? Is that all you want? Tell me now!”

  “Damn it!” Rick said, slamming his fist on the bench. “I have to take a break from this. I can’t believe you’re questioning my love and saying what you just did. I want what’s best for us. I don’t want to lose you, but for God’s sake, we have to have a solid plan for our future. Doing the right thing means finishing school first. I love you more than anything.” He hung his head, resigned. “Marriage now? I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

  “That’s all I ask.”

  Rick spent the next few days really thinking about it. He tried to see things from Julie’s point of view. They were both young, barely twenty, and still had a good part of their education ahead of them. Money wouldn’t be a problem if they did get married. Rick’s father would support them until Rick completed his education, no matter how long it took.

  The days of the two of them walking down Minetta Lane and enjoying the simplicity of it all would be gone. It would be about diapers, a crying baby, and homework. Their lives would not be their own.

  ***

  Time passed. Rick waited for some turning point that would bring them back to the loving feelings they once shared, but things were drastically different, and Julie backed away when he tried to kiss her.

  One morning, during breakfast, Julie broached the subject of marriage again. Rick went through his usual stance of waiting until he had his PhD.

  Julie reached across the table, held h
is hand, and spoke slowly in a low tone, “Rick, we don’t want the same things, and I need distance to separate from you. I’ve decided to move to California.”

  Neither of them were able to compromise, and a few days later, she was gone.

  Rick’s emotional pain was agonizing. He had let her go and was tortured by images that someone else would have her. He was still in love with her, but perhaps, he was in love with the memory of what he’d lost and the beautiful love they had once shared.

  A year later, Rick received a surprise phone call from Julie on his birthday. She sounded good, and he was happy for her.

  They kept in touch from time to time over the years. Neither of them ever married. Julie received advanced degrees at Stanford and became a therapist specializing in the treatment of battered women. Rick got his PhD in biology from NYU and was now a full professor.

  When Rick and Julie spoke on the phone they talked about getting together, but their lives had already moved in different directions. Eric’s name always entered the conversation, and they vowed to find him one day. Rick sometimes felt a twinge of pain when he walked the Village streets each day, in their footsteps. He reminisced about sitting with Julie near frost-covered windows, eating cheeseburgers and sipping cappuccinos.

  After all these years, he still felt it was a mistake not to marry her. He thought of Eric each New Year’s Eve and felt remorse for giving his son up for adoption.

  He was reminded of Julie’s words at the end of the majority of their conversations: “We have to find him, Rick. We have to find Eric.”

  Rick always added, “We will, Julie. We will,” but no search took place. They had already moved past that point in their lives.

  Chapter 9

  One night Rick had a dream in which he received a gift. It was in a small box wrapped in white paper. He lifted the lid, peeked inside, and saw a shimmering emerald. He didn’t keep it, but gave it away. He thought about the dream and its meaning. It was about Julie.

  The next morning he picked up his mail at NYU and sifted through the letters as the sunshine from a nearby window streamed over them. Some were from colleagues, others from students.

  One letter stood out. The return address indicated it was from Newark, New York. He opened it and sat down. Inside was a copy of an obituary—Julie’s, sent by her sister, Laurie, along with a note that read, She would have wanted you to know. He was stunned and tears began to flow spontaneously.

  I should have married her. Now I have nothing.

  Rick sat hunched over on the bench, looking down at his knees. The sunshine that flowed into the mailroom was in vivid contrast to the darkness he felt inside. He remained numb and impervious to others around him who were casually going through their everyday mail. His mind drifted to sweet moments: Their kiss in the moonlight on a snowy night, their passions released in front of a roaring fire, and her radiant smiling face looking up at him on a snowy mountain from a toboggan.

  I let her go. For what, a PhD? Julie was my soul mate.

  He recalled her last words to him before she’d left for California: “You’ll never find this again.” She was right. He thought of their phone conversations and his unkept promises to search for Eric.

  Rick had to find their son. It was all he had left of Julie and he had promised to search for him.

  He knew Eric’s birthday and his mother’s name and had reason to believe the adoption was arranged through Catholic Charities somewhere in New Jersey. Eric was now an adult, about twenty-seven. Rick figured it would be easy.

  He called Laurie the next day and offered his condolences. She would have nothing to do with him, and there was hatred in her tone. She reminded Rick that Julie had given her heart to him, and she admonished him for not marrying her. Laurie didn’t know about Eric and he didn’t tell her. Julie’s secret was safe from her domineering family.

  Rick called every Catholic Charity organization in New Jersey and wrote letters to all six Dioceses in the state, outlining the information he had about Eric. The search turned out to be more difficult than he’d imagined.

  He called every agency he could find, left messages, and spent hours every day between classes for over six months searching for Eric. He put ads in New Jersey newspapers and provided Eric’s name and other information, hoping it would provide a lead. Rick was all over the internet in every state. Even private detectives were not able to help.

  One night, on February 2008, Rick arrived home and there was a message on his answering machine.

  “Hi, Mr. Newman. My name is Cheryl Sanders and I work for the Loving Care Adoption Services. I think we found your son. Please call me back. I’m here Monday through Friday. Hope to talk to you soon.”

  His eyes widened and his pulse quickened as he looked up at the ceiling. He could not believe what he’d heard. So it wasn’t Catholic Charities after all. He was wrong. He sank down on his couch, closed his eyes, and whispered aloud, “Finally, finally, Julie.”

  The phone message sounded so positive. I think we found your son. Those words meant everything to him, and he replayed her words again, reliving Cheryl’s positive tone.

  He called early the next morning.

  “I see you got my message, Mr. Newman. I have good news. I have information about your son. I’m Cheryl. May I call you Rick?”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” He wanted her to get to the point. He tensed up and held his breath.

  “Let me tell you something about what we do. We help people search for their birth parents, and we conduct searches on behalf of birth parents who would like to reunite with adult children who were placed with us for adoption. I can give you some information about your son, but first tell me what you know.”

  “Thank you very much for this. I can’t believe this moment is happening. I’ve been searching almost a year for my son. I loved his mother. Her name was Julie Phillips. My son was born on December 31, 1980, and he was named Eric after Julie’s father. Don’t know much more. I thought the adoption was arranged through Catholic Charities. I don’t know why I thought that. I’m sorry to say Julie was killed in an automobile accident in California.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that, really sorry, especially now that we have so much information about your son. You know, all we really needed was his mother’s name. That would have been enough. I can give you some information, but I cannot tell you anything that will allow you to contact him. That can only happen with his permission.”

  “That’s okay. I understand.” Rick held his breath.

  “He was adopted when he was about a month old on February eighth. His adopted parents kept the name Julie gave him. He is married and has a son. He must have gotten married when he was young because his son is now about seven. I can’t give you too much information without his permission, but if you will write a letter to him through me, I will send it on.”

  “You mean I’m a grandfather?” Rick’s heart pounded.

  “Yes, you are. The boy’s name is Maxwell.”

  “It’s unbelievable, amazing. I feel I’m in some sort of dream. All those years ago are back now.”

  “Well, there are two more things I can reveal. Eric is involved in the music business. Sometimes he spells his name E-h-r-i-k. I’m not sure why. He doesn’t play an instrument, but does something associated with music. Also, he has a college degree in chemistry.

  “Rick, I know you want to know more, but we’re committed to certain protocols. Write the letter and send it to me, and we’ll take it from there. Oh, one more thing, locating people and getting them together is time consuming. We are a public agency with limited funds and request a contribution of five hundred dollars for our services. Is that okay? It’s only a request and is not mandatory.”

  “Not a problem. It will be my pleasure.”

  “Thank you. Send me the letter when you can. I’m glad we were able to chat. Now you know where Julie went when she needed care before Eric’s birth. He was born at Margaret Hague Hospital in Jersey Cit
y and, after being with Julie for three days, she released him for adoption.

  “Please call me if you need help with writing the letter or anything. I think there’s a good chance he will communicate, but it is up to him. I hope you understand that. I’ve been doing this long time. Often, adult children, or birth parents, don’t want to be found.”

  “Thank you, Cheryl. I’ll get the letter out as soon as I can.”

  She sounded so pleasant and understanding, but she stuck to the rules. Rick couldn’t believe he had a grandson and he felt the pain of Julie not being with him.

  We found him!

  His heart ached and he wished Julie were sitting next to him. That little baby, that combination of Rick and Julie, was now a man.

  ***

  10 February 2008

  Dear Eric,

  This letter may come as a surprise to you, but I wanted to write and let you know that I’m your birth father and would like to make myself available to you to answer the many questions you may have about your birth parents. It’s up to you to decide if you would like us to meet. That is totally your choice. It would be something I would like, but again, it’s up to you.

  Your birth mother, Julie, was a very special person. I met her in 1979, when we were both almost nineteen. She grew up in Newark, New York, a small town not far from Rochester. She came to New York City to study nursing and we met in college. I was a political science major at that time, but I later changed to biology and the natural sciences. I met Julie in the library at school, where we became friends. That friendship grew into a beautiful love that we shared.

  Although our love was strong, our families disapproved of our relationship on religious grounds. Julie was Catholic and I am Jewish. We had a warm and close relationship, which included skiing in Vermont and long walks in the country, fun stuff with friends, movies, and restaurants. We shared our feelings openly, along with our sense of humor, and just enjoyed being together. Julie was generally a happy person and always found the good in people. Your birth mother was of Dutch descent and had blue eyes and blonde hair. Her face would light up when she smiled. She was beautiful inside and out.