by Karen Rivers
I froze. What were they talking about? What secrets did they have? Because we had promised that there would not be any secrets and yet there I was, in the middle of the night outside their window, and they were talking about SECRETS.
Then Caleb began barking like a lunatic at the bottom of the trellis and attempting to climb his way up to me! Zut alors! Luckily, Dad just went down and let Caleb inside. Then he went back to the bedroom where I was finally able to hear the following conversation:
Dad: She’s obviously forgotten, and if we miss it, is it really that big of a deal? We couldn’t have known it was the same date. I mean, we should have known. Oh, the letter from the agency came! Of course, it doesn’t say anything, except that the adoption was closed. Remember when that woman sneezed into my coffee?
Mom: I … guess. [mumble mumble] We should sue them! Or not. No. Not. I don’t have the energy for that, and besides, what would we sue them for?
Dad: I know how they feel. This is terrible. [mumble]
Mom: But how will Ruth feel? Maybe we should leave it up to her. Her choice. You do NOT know what it’s like to be a thirteen-year-old kid in this situation … It might be important to her.
Dad: She’s my daughter. Of course I know what she’s feeling. AND A-HA! You just did it too!
Mom: Did what?
Dad: She’s only TWELVE, remember? Rounder-upper!
Mom: I am not a rounder-upper! Besides, David, that isn’t the point, is it?
Dad: What IS the point, Gen?
Mom: Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Why is everything happening at once? It’s like our lives are a giant pinball machine and we are zinging around inside it.
Dad: If your job ends, does this mean we can move Luffetta out of the dining room? I always hated that thing. She gives me bad dreams! I’d never admit that to Ruth, though, remember when she … [mumble] [hearty laughter]
Mom: DAVID. That’s not funny. Luffetta is practically family.
Which is when I blurted out, “EXACTLY! AND FAMILY IS NOT DISPOSABLE!”
Dad flung the window open, which unfortunately knocked me directly in the face, possibly breaking my nose, which began to gush with blood. (I take aspirin every day, so I bleed more than normal people do. It’s totes dramatic!)
“What are you DOING, Ruth?” he said.
“I was … ,” I said. “Nothing.”
They both just stared at me like I’d grown flippers and announced I was a mermaid. Finally Mom said, “Your nose! David, do something!”
So Dad brought me into their bedroom and got out his doctor bag and put this powdery stuff inside my nose that made it stop bleeding. It also smells like mustard. It’s really terrible. There was a lot of rushing around. When it finally ended, I was exhausted. I mean, I didn’t want to go look at constellations anymore. I just wanted to go to bed.
“Well, good night!” I said. I tried to walk away proudly and swiftly, without mentioning the so-called secrets that I overheard when I was innocently hanging outside their window. Unfortunately, when I moved, my nose started up again in a torrential downpour of blood.
Mom and Dad whisked me to the hospital and bought me a stuffed cat and a chocolate bar in the gift shop. As though I can be bought off with stuffies and candy, which, as it turns out, I actually can, so that was nice! The only thing on the television in the waiting area was SpongeBob SquarePants, which is basically an insult to all humans everywhere. (He’s a KITCHEN SPONGE!) Luckily, when you are bleeding a lot, they hurry you through and before I knew it, I was in the little curtained-off area and Dad’s friend Dr. Mike was cauterizing my nose. If this has never happened to you, AVOID. It sizzles. Like a tiny little barbecue in your nostril.
I’m so sleepy, Ruby. Plus, my nose is throbbing like a bullfrog singing to the full moon.
And now that everyone is in bed, I’ve just realized I still don’t know what Mom and Dad were talking about. What do I need to decide? What are they keeping from me? Can’t anyone just tell me the truth? EVER?
Love,
Ruth
Mum,
I’m scared. And I don’t really know why. I’m scared all over, like every bit of me is just waiting to fall from something terrifyingly high, like the Shard building or the Cliffs of Dover.
What if she doesn’t like me? What if she can’t forgive you? What if she takes one look at us and runs away?
Love,
Ruby
It’s not long now, Fi. Only a day. I don’t know what to do. I’m so restless, but I can’t seem to go out or do anything, so I’m just sitting here in the wardrobe, thinking and listening to STOP, or trying to. It’s just that maybe I don’t really like them anymore. You know, Berk REALLY does look like Nate. Only a bit better. Did he say anything about me?
I KNEW it! Oh, this is the best! Shall I tell him? Or d’you want to? Or should we just let it play out however it’s going to? It’s so romantic! I’m so happy.
I know you’re scared about Ruth, but it’s going to be fine. I promise it will be fine. Besides, it’ll be even stranger for her, I’d think. It’s YOUR mum. And YOU.
I was reading one of Dad’s true crimes last night, and it was about a girl who was kidnapped and stored in a shed out back of some creepy stalker’s house for ten whole years, and then when she came out, all she wanted was to see all her old school chums, but of course they were all different by then, all grown up and such. And she was so shocked. So maybe — I know it’s completely different, obvi — Ruth will just want to see what she’s missed? You should get out your old photo albums, so you can show her. And … oh, you’ll know what to do. You’ll know when you see her.
Can I come round and meet her? Not right away, but maybe an hour in? Or for tea?
Of course!
Ru-Ru, we’ve just heard that Fi’s meeting your glam American twin. ’Course you don’t want us hanging round too, but on the off chance that you’re bored or need a laugh, we’re not doing anything except dyeing our hair with blueberries and a turnip. Apparently it makes a smashing hair dye! Who knew? Soph says not turnip, but beetroot. OK, well, blueberries and BEETROOT then. Stop doing that while I’m typing, Soph! This is important! Ruby’s going to meet her twin! Gosh, I wish something so exciting would happen to us.
Kiss kiss, one on each cheek, like le français!
Chloe and Sophie (Even though, once again, Soph didn’t even bend a finger to type a single letter, lazy cow.)
COME DOWNSTAIRS RIGHT NOW. (We have ice cream sandwiches!)
Also, while you’re down here, there’s something your mom and I need to talk to you about. Don’t panic. It’s nothing major. Just a little … something. Something you need to know before the cab gets here.
Oh, by the way, on the calendar today, Buddha says, “You, yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.” Something to think about, sweetie. I mean, if you don’t forgive anyone, then you aren’t exactly being loving to yourself either, are you? It might go back to the idea that you can’t forgive someone else until you forgive yourself. Maybe you can’t forgive yourself for surviving, after all, and causing all this? Because if that’s what you’re thinking, you’re wrong. You surviving all this was the best thing that happened to any of us. Ever. Not kidding.
And get down here! I’m going to eat your ice cream!
Love,
Daddy
j/k! I meant “Dad.”
I’m coming!
DO NOT LET CALEB SLATHER ALL OVER MY DESSERT.
Why are we having dessert for breakfast? Won’t we get type 2 diabetes? Can I also have some fruit or something? I don’t want to throw up on the plane!
Love,
Ruth
P.S. I am so, so nervous.
P.P.S. Mom, are you sure you are OK with all of this?
P.P.P.S. All this Buddhist stuff may be too much for me. I know it works for you but you’ve read books! You have this huge understanding! The page-a-day calendar doesn’t cut it, Da
d. I sort of still don’t get HOW you let go, just that you have to do it. I will say it here officially: “I, Ruth Quayle, forgive myself.” There.
I just want it to be true. What does Buddha say about that?
Sweetie, I am completely fine. I’m desperately worried about how YOU are coping, but I’m looking forward to the twelve hours of flying so that you and I can really talk. We’ll be fine. This will be fine. I think it’s good for you. It’s like you’ve got this huge, extended family now, not just us. You’ve got the McNays and now you’ve got Ruby and her mom.
And your dad is right about the forgiving. Maybe you feel guilty that you survived, but maybe you also feel guilty for having Ashley’s heart? Your psychiatrist said this might be something you deal with around this age, this idea that you survived at the cost of her. It’s OK, Ruth. I promise, it’s OK. Whatever you’re feeling is OK. And forgiving yourself is OK too. Not just in words, but for real.
Oh, speaking of the McNays, can you please come down? That’s what we have to talk about.
Love,
Mommy
I’m in ENGLAND! Can you even believe this?
This is crazy! We are just checking into the hotel and there is Internet, so I wanted to write to you RIGHT AWAY. You know, for your documentary. I kind of sort of wish you were here, filming it, but you aren’t and that’s fine too! I have a camera! I will get footage!
I’ve just watched SHORCA! and Jedgar, it is the best thing you’ve ever done! When I was making those little clay shark/orca hybrids, I didn’t know that you could do THAT kind of magic computer stuff. Your drawings are amazing. And at the end, when the SHORCA realizes there is another SHORCA and stops chomping the beachgoers and swims off into the sunset while the voice-over says, “LIKE ALL MAMMALS, SHORCAS CRAVE THE COMPANIONSHIP OF ONE OF THEIR OWN KIND” … well, it actually made my eyes well up and then spill over, all over my cheeks in a giant flood of weeping.
It’s different here. Even the air feels different, like it has more gray in it and it’s all a little foggy and serious.
This is actually really happening.
I’m not going to know what to say.
Jedgar, I wish I hadn’t come.
Ruth
What? You don’t really wish that.
You had to go there. You have to meet Ruby. She’s your twin sister!
And you pretty much have to meet your biological mom too. It’s going to be OK, Ruth.
You’ll totally know the right thing to say when you see her. Or when you see them, I mean. I mean, think about it. What’s the worst that can happen?
No, scratch that. Don’t think about that. You’re a river, remember? A pretty crazy river with lots of weird twists and turns, but still just a river.
And a leaf.
Jedgar
P.S. Thanks for saying all that stuff about SHORCA! I think it’s pretty good too. It’s already got 112 hits on YouTube and only half of them were me.
Best. Day. Ever.
Even if it was the saddest. It was also the best.
And the strangest.
Because you do look EXACTLY like me. I guess I thought you’d be a bit different.
Anyway, it was really lovely. I’m crying now because I don’t want you to go, but I know you’ll have to go. You only have these few days.
Maybe I will go to uni in America! They have fashion there too. Really fab fashion.
Miss you already,
Ruby
J.,
Attached is the video that I took today. I think it’s the ending of the documentary, even if you haven’t finished the beginning or the middle yet. Or even if you never do.
We are all real people and the video shows what really happened. It was awkward like it looks, but even when you watch it, Jedgar, you can’t know what it was like! It was amazingly, gloriously, wonderfully, unbelievably, totally, completely the strangest thing that’s ever happened to anyone. When I saw Ruby for the first time, it was like I just fell out of myself and into her, and for the first few seconds, it was like we were the same person. That sounds totes crazy to you. I know it does, because it sounds entirely crazy to me too, and I’m the one it happened to. I was bawling and so was she and right behind her was Delilah and she was crying too. (Everyone was. It was like that. Well, you can see that, you don’t need me to tell you!)
You know, this whole time, when I was at home and Googling Delilah and being mad about being the runt that she shoved out of the way so that Ruby could be strong, I thought that Delilah was going to be bigger. Then when I saw her, her hands were shaking and she kept tying her long hair into a knot and then letting it fall down. And her face was so sad and strange but also entirely familiar. It was like my CELLS recognized her, so far deep down that it was a feeling instead of even something that I was thinking, and they all just kind of exhaled. Like every part of me had been held so tight and then it wasn’t. I saw how sorry she was.
Jedgar, you know what? That isn’t really the end. My life story isn’t ready to be packaged up yet, with a beginning and middle and end, because this whole thing isn’t the end of anything, it is just an in-between bit. I get it now, I think, what Buddha meant. There aren’t really endings until you’re dead. If you are the river (or the path!), then it just keeps going and going and sometimes it’s like basically a trickle and sometimes it’s more like Niagara Falls, but it doesn’t have ends, it all just blurs together and making it end would be dumb. It just wouldn’t make sense, after all.
Anyway, watch the video, OK?
Ruth
Dear Ruth,
It was unbelievably lovely to meet you. It was a miracle to meet you. I’m glad you liked the painting. I did so many of the two of you, but that one was special. It was the last one where I painted you both, where I said good-bye. I didn’t know I’d get to say ‘hello’ again. So, hello.
And thank you.
I know I’m not your mum, not really, but I also am. And I know you have to decide how much of me to let into your life, and that’s fine. I’m here. I’ll be right here. Me and Ruby. Whenever you need us. That doesn’t seem like nearly enough, but that’s all I can think of to offer you.
Your SHORCA! film was brilliantly different and jolly good, actually. The tiny sculptures you made … well, it’s like you got part of me, after all! Ruby’s hopeless at sculpting, but she can draw like an angel. And you? You can sculpt. The two of you, together, are so much like me, but at the same time, so much MORE than me. It’s hard to even get my head around the idea that I could have made you, and that you could then be this huge life force. Because you are, Ruth. You are a HUGE life force.
It feels like a miracle, Ruth. It IS a miracle. I hope you know that you’re a miracle.
And I hope you know that I’m sorry.
I am. So. Sorry.
Love,
Delilah (Mummy)
Dear Delilah,
I think I’ll stick with Delilah, if you don’t mind. I have a mom already. But seriously, if I was going to call you something else, it would be MUM, not Mummy. Are all of you in cahoots? We are almost 13 years old! You are MUM and MOM. Not Mummy. Not Mommy.
It was really unbelievable to meet you. And thank you for the art. It’s still so strange and actually kind of creepy to see a painting of me that isn’t actually me because you didn’t know me, but there I am, sitting in a park where I’ve never been, when I was three. It doesn’t make sense. It gives me goose bumps, because you thought I was dead when you painted it, so it’s a little like I’m looking at a ghost of myself, which is totes creepy.
You can stop saying sorry now. You really can.
It’s OK.
I forgive you.
I forgive me.
I forgive all of us for everything that happened.
And it’s not enough to say it, but it also is, I guess.
Love,
Ruth
P.S. If you ever want to, I write some poems and stuff like that on a Tumblr at nopoppingballoons.tu
mblr.com. You do NOT have to read them! Don’t feel like you do! Just, you know, because you wrote me that poem before, I thought you might like to read mine.
Dear Nan,
This is it. This is my last letter. I’ve met Ruth now. So now there’s her and me and there’s Mum. And that’s that. I’m still furious that you did this, that you were the one behind it all, that you decided for all of us how it’s going to be.
I’m going to be OK, though. I was just watching the news on the BBC, just like you used to every night, and they had this astronaut they were interviewing. He was up in space! In the Space Station, if you can believe it! It’s so strange to me that there are people up there. I’d panic, for sure, to be so far away from earth. But maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe I’d like it. Because, after all, it’s like living in my wardrobe, but in the stars.
Anyway, he was telling this story of how yesterday, he looked out of his window as they were passing over Australia. He said he looked down, and it looked like a river of rainbows. He saw the Southern Lights, which I suppose are like the Northern Lights, but he was seeing them from above, not from below. He said it was like rainbows were spilling out everywhere, all over the earth.
I loved that, Nan. It made me think of you. Before, I was thinking of you being dead as something you had to break through to come back and spell things on the fridge, but now I think it’s not like that. I think it’s more like what he said, like rainbows spilling over the earth, and I think those rainbows are you, Nan. I really do. It’s like you’re here, but only sometimes, just for a few beautiful minutes, and it isn’t your job while you’re here to do things or to make amends. It’s just to remind me of you. And that makes me think that actually, it’s silly to think you’re reading my letters.
I’m going to let you go now, Nan.