“Ha-ha,” he said. She giggled. He mimicked her laugh, making her laugh even harder. They stopped when they heard the front door open.
“That’s Mom,” he said softly. Candace’s heart leaped up into her throat, and that familiar hot feeling surged through her stomach. She had no idea how her mother would react to seeing her standing in the kitchen, unannounced, making dinner with her newly found brother.
“Sure you want to do this?” he asked. “Back door is right over there.”
Candace nodded, mute. This was her moment. No way was she giving it up.
A second passed before she stepped into the doorway. Candace gasped. She didn’t expect her mother to look the way she did. Callie was incredibly thin, her pale skin stretched over her frame and peppered with bruises. Candace could barely pry her gaze from the dark circles under her mother’s eyes. Were they from a lack of sleep or the remnants of yesterday’s mascara? Any vision she’d created of her mother being a regular person—maybe someone who worked at a bank or an insurance company—was gone. There was no way her mother wore the stained shirt with a ripped collar to any type of job.
She’s a drug addict, Candace realized as Callie nervously began to twirl her greasy hair on a bony finger. That’s when true disappointment sank in.
“Mom,” Vance said carefully. “This is Candace.”
Callie looked from Candace to Vance and back, giving nothing away. “How old are you?” she asked slowly.
“Seventeen,” Candace said, and waited for a reaction. There wasn’t one. Callie just stared at her with a blank look in her eyes before exhaling.
“I don’t know any Candace,” she muttered, and then shuffled past them down the hall. With tears welling in her eyes, Candace watched her disappear around the corner. That was it? That was all she had to say to the daughter that she gave away? Candace was sure Callie understood who she was from the way Vance had said Candace’s name. To just pretend she didn’t know Candace was gut-wrenching. If she’d said that she didn’t want to see her, or that she was too surprised to know what to say, Candace would’ve understood. But to act as if she were just some random teenager who Vance met on the street and invited in for dinner was . . . cruel. Candace had prepared herself for a mother who would be surprised that she’d sought her out, but she couldn’t have expected this. Seeing the pain on Candace’s face, Vance quickly put a hand on her back reassuringly.
“She’s wasted right now,” he said. “Let’s just give her a little time to sober up while we eat and then I’ll go talk to her, okay?” Candace nodded but she couldn’t fight the sobs that came from so deep inside her that they hurt. Covering her face with her hands, she began to cry. It’s my own fault, she thought, for believing that I could be happy and feel like I belong. I won’t ever belong. Callie’s crushing dismissal left her feeling even more lost than before.
She felt Vance put his strong arms around her and hug her to his chest. His warmth felt good. “Hey . . .” he said in a soothing voice. “Don’t let that hurt you. She’s said some pretty awful stuff to me, too. And this is all going to be okay. There’s just . . . a lot of things you don’t understand.” His words made her feel a little better. She needed to trust that things couldn’t get worse. And they couldn’t. Could they?
The mood was solemn for both Candace and Vance as they ate dinner.
“Does she ever talk about me?” Candace asked.
“No,” he said softly, shaking his head. “But you have to understand how Mom is. She’s her own worst enemy. And it’s not just the pills and booze.”
“What do you mean?” Candace asked, trying to ignore the hurt she was feeling after hearing her mom never mentioned her.
“She’s so . . . I don’t know. She’ll never admit she made a mistake about anything. Even when it’s obvious. Stubborn.”
Candace looked past Vance toward the hallway. “Do you think she’ll be that way with me?” she asked.
“She’s that way with everyone. Even me. She needs rehab. She’s needed it for years.”
“You can’t make her go?” Candace had never known anyone who needed rehab before, but it seemed pretty clear to her that their mother did.
“Uh, no. I could force her by turning her in to the cops . . . but she said she’d never speak to me again.” Vance’s words were laced with pain. Candace felt bad for him.
“You believe her?” she asked, finding it difficult to wrap her head around the idea that a mother could disown her son for doing what was obviously best for her. “Would she really stop talking to you? After she’s sober she’d probably see things differently.” All Candace knew about addicts came from television shows, and the people on them rarely held a grudge once they were clean.
“It’s why I haven’t done it . . . yet,” he said, looking down. There was a note of shame in his voice. “I’ve spent hours and hours researching and talking to people, but you know . . . it’s just complicated.” This was all so far from what Candace pictured. The moment Mike Foster told her she had a brother and showed her the photos of Vance, she had begun to create a fictional life for him, imagining what it had been like for him to be the one who hadn’t been adopted away; who had the chance to build that mother-child bond; who had the normal life. She was beginning to see that Vance’s life was far from normal. No, he’d never had to wonder who his real mother was or feel the betrayal Candace felt when she discovered she didn’t belong in the family she’d always thought was hers, but he had his own collection of demons that he’d come to accept. Maybe life had been just as unfair to her brother as it had been to her. . . .
“Do you think she’s going to come out and talk to me tonight?” she asked.
Vance exhaled slowly. “I think . . . you should give it some time. Let her have a few days to process it and decide what she wants to say.”
Candace sank back, disappointed and angry. A few days? She’d had seventeen years to ponder what she’d say to the daughter she gave up.
“I don’t think I can do that,” Candace said. How could she possibly get in her car and leave without having a conversation with the woman who held so many of the answers to her questions? She needed to know who Callie was, what her father was like, why she was given up but Vance wasn’t. She couldn’t just walk out. It had taken a crap-ton of courage to just step up to Vance’s door. She wasn’t going to give up that easily.
“Let me go talk to her,” he said, and stood.
Candace heard him knock on Callie’s bedroom door. Then she heard it open and shut. She got up and slipped down the hall so she could eavesdrop. “You should talk to her, Mom,” she heard Vance pleading.
“Nothin’ to say.” There was something else but Candace couldn’t make it out.
“Really?” She heard Vance raise his voice. “You’ve got nothing to say to the daughter you gave up? How about telling her about the birthday gifts you bought but never sent? Or the time—”
“It’s none of your business! Stay out of it!” Callie responded, irate. Candace closed her eyes, trying to stave off the sting she felt about hurtful remarks she was overhearing through the flimsy wooden door.
“That’s your answer for everything. It’s not my business. Except it is! You’re my business! Your life has been one regret after another covered up with booze and pills and whatever else you can find so you don’t have to feel bad. This is your chance to change all that. Right now. For once, do something that’s hard to do. Not for her, but for yourself!”
Candace bit her lip. There was a long pause. Vance’s words hung in the air like a dense fog. She hoped the silence meant Callie was reconsidering.
“I got nothin’ to say.” Callie’s words rang with a resigned finality. Tears brimmed in Candace’s eyes.
“You’re unbelievable,” she heard her brother say before opening the door. Startled to see Candace standing there, he let his shoulders drop.
“I’m sorry,” Vance apologized. “She needs time.”
Candace was livid. “I
don’t understand why she can’t just talk to me! I’m not asking for anything. Just to see what she’s like!” Being stubborn was one thing; being unreasonable was something entirely different!
Vance put up a hand, trying to calm her. “It’s not about that. She just pushes aside things that are difficult.”
“Well, I’m not gonna be pushed aside!” Candace declared, and muscled past her brother and banged on the door with her fist. “I borrowed a thousand dollars to find you! That’s how bad I wanted to know who you are! And I’m not leaving here until you talk to me!”
The words came out like a rush of white water. Candace poured out her fear, anxiety, and desire for acceptance. She didn’t expect Callie to respond to her any differently than she’d responded to Vance, but she couldn’t leave without trying. And it was important for her mother to know the lengths she’d gone to just so she could see her face-to-face. She half expected Callie to tell her to go screw herself. Just like Toby said might happen. If she kicked her out of the house, Candace knew her only choice would be to leave. She couldn’t risk her mother calling the cops on her and being hauled back home again.
She’s never going to talk to me if I yell at her through a door, Callie surmised. What am I doing? I should’ve just given her time like Vance said. I’ve probably screwed everything up, just like I do everything else. But as Candace beat herself up over her decisions, she was shocked to see the doorknob begin to turn.
Candace stepped back, speechless, as Callie opened the door. Staring into her mother’s face, she could see years of misery in the woman’s cold, pained eyes.
“Fine,” Callie said. “Let’s talk.”
Toby, still dripping wet from his shower, adjusted the towel around his waist as he hurried to the bed and snatched up his ringing cell phone. Hoping it was Candace telling him how the initial meeting with her brother had turned out, he was surprised to see a number he didn’t recognize. Maybe her phone died and she’s calling from his phone, he thought.
“Hello?” he answered.
“I’m calling for Tobias. Did I get the right number?” The woman’s voice on the other end was tired but hopeful.
“Who’s this?” he asked. No one called him Tobias. There was a pause. Then . . .
“My name is Shannon,” the woman said. “I’m Candace’s mother. Please don’t hang up. I know she’s with you.”
Toby’s jaw tightened. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. Just leave her alone.”
“I’m not going to leave her alone,” Shannon spit back. “I’m her mother! And if you think—”
Toby hung up on her. Assuming she would call right back, he quickly blocked her number from his phone. This woman never freaking gives up, he thought as he pulled a clean shirt from his dresser and slipped it over his head. No wonder she drove Candace crazy. Running away twice should’ve been enough of a clue that Candace wanted to be left alone, but Shannon couldn’t seem to respect that. It was apparent that if he and Candace ever wanted to live in peace, he was going to have to find a place far away from Shannon.
Toby dropped his towel and slid on a pair of boxers before falling back onto his bed. He wondered how things were going with Candace and her brother. He hoped this guy wasn’t a prick to her. And if he was, he hoped Candace wouldn’t tell him or he’d feel compelled to drive straight over to the guy’s house and kick his ass.
Toby wondered if he’d made a mistake by encouraging Candace to find her biological mother. It was what she wanted, so he wanted to give that to her, but he hadn’t spent much time thinking it through on his own. The best thing for both of them would be to move far away and start a new life someplace else. Candace could be rid of Shannon’s control and he would be able to escape his past. He hoped this brother and mother—if she were alive—wouldn’t end up encouraging Candace to stay in LA.
San Francisco sounds cool, he thought. But it’s just as expensive as LA. Maybe someplace in Oregon or Arizona. He knew a guy who’d moved to Phoenix. Maybe we can shack up with him for a little while. Or maybe Vegas. Vegas would be a blast. All these thoughts of moving away with Candace made Toby smile. He’d been longing for a new beginning for quite some time. It had come in the form of Candace. I’m not going to let anyone keep us apart, he promised himself. Not Keenan, not Candace’s newly discovered brother, and definitely not Shannon.
Candace sat across from Callie, who fidgeted nervously as she spoke. “You have your father’s eyes,” Callie said, studying her hard. To Candace, who blinked back a tear, it seemed like more of an observation than a compliment. She felt Vance’s comforting hand on her shoulder.
“What do you want to know?” Callie asked awkwardly.
“Everything!” Candace blurted out, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “Starting with why you gave me up.”
Callie took a moment and it seemed like she was putting some real thought into her words. “Your father was sentenced on a Friday. The following Monday, I found out I was pregnant with you. I already had a four-year-old son I didn’t know how I was going to take care of. I knew you’d have a better life with someone else.” Her voice was flat and devoid of emotion, and that’s what made it even more difficult for Candace to hear.
“Why didn’t you ever try to find me?” she asked as a tear broke loose and ran down her cheek. “Didn’t you even care how I was doing?”
“I knew where you were,” Callie responded. “I saw you a few times. I went to your ballet recital . . . sat in the park when you had your sixth birthday party there.”
“You did?” Candace was surprised. “My adoptive mother said she didn’t know where you were.”
“She didn’t,” Callie assured her. “She had no idea I was there.” There was a bit of relief in finding out that her mom hadn’t lied about that, at least. She truly didn’t know Callie. But why would this woman give her up and then secretly come to important events? It made no sense.
“But I saw how happy you were, kissing and hugging your mother. I saw how she and your dad went to all that work to plan games and decorate, and get you a cake and presents . . . I saw how much they loved you and how happy it made them to give you that party, and I knew I wouldn’t have done it.” Callie shrugged, reinforcing her apathy.
Candace didn’t want to believe that. Every parent wants to see their child happy. She was sure Callie would have done the same. Maybe not to the extent that her parents did, because she didn’t have the money, but she would have done something to mark the occasion. “Know what?” Candace asked, clasping her hands together. “I don’t think that’s true. I think you would’ve given me the same things they did—”
“No. I wouldn’t,” Callie interjected quickly. “Ask Vance. Think he ever got a birthday party? One. And that’s because his aunt Kendra threw it for him when he was seven. I showed up late.” Callie looked at Vance, who glanced away. “Every time I saw you happy,” Callie continued, “it made me feel worse. Not because I couldn’t give you that, but because I knew I wouldn’t.”
They all sat in silence, unsure where to go with the conversation. It dawned on Candace that between her and Vance, maybe she was actually the lucky one. Yes, he’d grown up knowing who his real mother was, but a childhood with Callie didn’t seem anything to envy. It wasn’t just that Callie couldn’t afford all the things many parents can. It was that she simply didn’t care to put in any effort. The notion that people could have children and then not want to create all the fun memories that they could with them was beyond Candace’s comprehension. She had so many great memories of her childhood: the pizza outings, the family vacations, waking up Christmas morning to find Santa eating the cookies she and Andrew had left for him.
For the first time, Candace realized that those things took effort on her mom and dad’s part. Like how her mother had hired someone to dress up like Santa and surprise them. For months, Andrew had bragged about how he’d caught him in the act.
She thought about all the money her parents spent on
new school clothes each autumn, and annual trips to Disneyland to celebrate the end of summer. Vance never got anything even close. Maybe, Candace thought, I was actually lucky that Callie didn’t raise me. That she made the decision to give me to someone else.
Finally, Callie spoke. “I know you want me to say that giving you up was the hardest thing I ever did, but it wasn’t. It was easy. I knew you’d have a better upbringing, and my life would be easier if I wasn’t always disappointing you.”
Tears began to stream down Candace’s face. She wiped them away with her sleeve. She felt herself getting angry. That telling feeling that always came right before she lost control and said whatever she could come up with to hurt the other person.
“You could have at least contacted me,” she said, her voice getting louder.
“Why?” Callie asked, still calm.
“So I’d know who my real mother was!” What is wrong with this woman? Is she insane? Doesn’t any of this make sense to her?
“You have a real mother!” Callie blurted back, showing emotion for the first time. “One who loves you very much and did a wonderful job raising you! I saw it with my own eyes! At that party, with that little boy in one arm, cutting cake with the other . . . giving out little bags of candy to all the kids, putting bandages on scraped knees . . . I saw a woman who loved being a mother, who loved her kids. And inserting myself into that didn’t make sense. When I saw how much your parents loved you, I knew I did the right thing, and doing anything to complicate that would’ve been . . . wrong.”
Callie reached her pale hands under the coffee table and pulled out a little gray box. She opened and removed a yellowing, weathered invitation. Handmade, it had You’re Invited to Candy’s 6th Birthday Party written on the front, and round plastic beads, made to look like pieces of candy, decorated the sides. Every detail had been added with care. Callie held it out to Candace; she took it.
“I found it in the trash after everyone left,” Callie muttered softly. Candace stared at the eleven-year-old invitation in her hand, lovingly made by her mom. A river of confusion, pain, and guilt swirled inside her. Inside the invitation, along with the date, place, and time, her mother had written Our darling baby girl is growing up! Candace choked back a sob.
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