“That’s funny—I thought you had the accent. Anyway, I’ve been in Florida. I grew up here, and you were born here, in Kissimmee.”
“Wow, so I’m Southern, too?” Cool. Maybe that explained my love of heat, the hot, sticky, humid variety that wilted almost everyone else.
“Sure are. It’s so wonderful to hear your voice. It sounds like mine. I often wondered.”
“I have, too.”
Our conversation stalled quickly. Exchanging emails was one thing, rather impersonal and noncommittal, but having a telephone conversation with someone was a big step.
“Well, since we’re here,” she said quietly, “is there anything you’d like to ask me? I know you’ve been holding back in your emails.”
“How could you tell?”
“Because I was too,” she said.
“Wow. OK. Yes, I was. I guess I’m just confused, you know? Why are you so happy to hear from me now? I mean, you got rid of me.”
“Oh, Caitlin, I hate using that phrase. I know how you must feel, but it wasn’t how you thought it was.”
“No, you really don’t know how I feel, and if it’s not what I thought it was, then what was it?” I said quickly, the anger in me flashing hot and sudden like lightning. Ryan’s hand on my shoulder served to calm me temporarily, but the flood of temper I felt was too strong to bury for long. It appeared the inner crazy was on its way out. Try as I might to rein it in, it seemed to have a mind of its own.
“You’re right. I don’t. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. This isn’t going the way I thought it would.” She sighed heavily.
“How did you expect it to go? Hi, Catie. It’s me — Mom. Sorry I haven’t been around for the past twenty-nine years. How did those alternate parents work out for you?”
She dissolved into sobs on the other end of the phone line and I felt terrible for baiting her. After my initial outburst, the anger sizzled away. It didn’t do either of us any good to carry around that kind of poison, that anger and guilt. I’d been victim of it before, and I knew just how painful it could be. I couldn’t bear it if she hung up, and I knew I’d regret it forever if she never talked to me again.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, either. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of a bitch sometimes, and maybe just the slightest bit erratic.”
I glanced at Ryan in time to see him smile at my admission and I punched him playfully on the arm. I held my breath, hoping she’d hear the genuine regret in my voice.
I was relieved when she laughed and said, “Me, too. And it’s alright. I deserved it all, and truthfully, I admire your temper and your guts. I think you get that from me.”
“Yeah? What else did I get from you, besides the obvious?” I had sent her a picture of me via email, and it was clear we looked a lot alike.
“Well, you’re athletic and so am I. Not in karate like you, but I was a ballet dancer when I was growing up. I love to read, and I love to be outdoors.” I had told her those things about myself during our email conversations.
“Weird.” And it was, at least to me. Obviously, I had half her DNA, so we’d be similar in a lot of ways, but it was still strange to know there was someone out there I resembled, both physically and emotionally. It brought up some very good questions about what pieces of our personalities are made, and which are inherited. I was excited to learn more about my birth mother, realizing it was something that might teach me more about myself.
“Mom, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, Caitlin. Anything.”
“Who’s my father?”
“I don’t know.”
“Excuse me?” I shrieked, incredulity dueling with frustration and raising my voice nearly an octave. I could practically hear her wince through the phone at my outburst.
“He was a one-night stand.”
“Well, holy shit.” Had an earthquake opened up a crack in the middle of the living room and swallowed me whole, I wouldn’t have been more surprised, and a nervous giggle burst from my lips.
She forged on, apology and regret ripe in her voice. “Caitlin, understand, please. I was in college, and my parents were very strict. The boy was a fraternity brother in one of the houses I partied at with my sorority. We met, sparks flew, and next thing you know, we were up in someone’s bedroom. I was drunk, he was drunk, and neither of us thought to look for a condom.” Her voice was mildly defensive.
“Wow. OK. Wow.” What do you say to that? I wondered. “Wow. Uh … I … Wow.” Yeah, that was all I had. My mother just told me I was an alcohol-induced, frat party mistake. ‘Wow’ seemed to about cover it.
“Catie, can you say something other than ‘Wow’?”
“Not right now,” I answered, almost dizzy. I sank into a nearby leather chair and doubled over, my head between my knees. I took a deep breath to try to steady myself. I raised my head and Ryan looked at me quizzically, but I shook my head. I’d tell him later. For now, I had to let this sink in. “Well, I wanted to know, didn’t I? I asked for it, so tell me, then what happened?”
“My parents found out I was pregnant, and demanded I either abort you or give you up for adoption. I couldn’t stand the thought of killing you. I wanted you, you see, but they wouldn’t let me keep you. I had no choice if I wanted you to live. So I gave you away.”
I felt a little better after her admission. She had wanted me, regardless of the fact I was a mistake. Instead of obliterating me, she chose to let me go so I could live my life. It didn’t feel clichéd to me, or like a cop-out. It was the truth, and I was grateful. There was only one thing that seemed right to say.
“Thanks.”
I meant it, and suddenly, the adoption seemed so much less of a big deal than it did before, after I realized she chose the lesser of what she considered two evils. She wanted me to live, so she ensured I could.
“I chose your parents myself. Shelly and Keith were so sweet. They cried when they told me how much having a child meant to them. They felt so slighted that they couldn’t conceive children, and so hopeful and grateful someone would give them a chance to be parents. I had to let you go, and I chose them because I knew they’d love you enough for me, too.”
“They were great. I miss them every day,” I told her. Blood or not, they were my parents, and their untimely death had crushed me. It had crushed my Gran, too, and she and I were still at odds because of it.
“You never told my real father about me?” I wondered aloud.
“I never saw him again. After I found out about you, I went back to the frat house, but he wasn’t there. Apparently, there had been a group of guys from other chapters who were visiting from out of town. There were about twenty of them, all from different states and colleges. It was a national fraternity with hundreds of chapters. No one knew names or even what towns they’d come from. I had no idea where to even begin.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry. I realize it’s tough to take in, and I’ll understand if you want some time before you speak to me again, if you even do.”
“Why did you contact me now?” I was curious about it.
There was silence for a minute. Then she spoke, sweetly and slowly. “It was time. Isamu told me what a wonderful woman you’d become, and how you never knew about me. He told me your parents were gone, and I wanted to set the record straight. Caitlin, you’re the only family I have left. My parents are both gone now, and I was an only child. Family is something people should never take for granted. Family is a gift. I wanted to reclaim you, to let you know more about your past, and to make plans for the future, if that’s alright with you.”
“Yeah,” I said slowly. “I think it is. I’m glad I got to finally talk to you.”
“Me, too. You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed about this day.”
“Can we meet in person?”
“Absolutely. And I want you to know, I’ll be moving to Pennsylvania next month. Let’s plan something for then.”
“Wow, reall
y? That’s great! Where in Pennsylvania?”
“Pittston. I wanted to be close to you.”
Tears flooded my eyes again, and I felt my heart beat double-time. I’d get to meet Maria. And soon. She wanted to be near me. She wanted me. It was so hard to describe the feelings that gave me. It was like winning the lottery and realizing every dream you ever had was coming true. It was the biggest feeling I think I’ve ever had, and it welled up inside me like a geyser racing toward the sky. It was incredible.
“I can’t wait to meet you.”
We hung up soon after, and I turned to Ryan with a triumphant smile. “I did it. I talked to my birth mother! She’s great, and she’s moving here!”
“Really? Sweetheart, that’s wonderful. And I’m proud of you; you barely had any meltdowns.” He smirked and enfolded me in a hug.
“I know. I’m improving,” I told him smugly.
He smiled at me and leaned in for a kiss. It seemed I had everything I had ever wanted; even if I hadn’t known I wanted it at the time. Soon, I’d meet my real mother and we’d be a family. It occurred to me that life couldn’t get much better.
Chapter 3
I talked to Maria on the phone several more times over the next month. The floodgates seemed to have opened after our initial phone call, and it was as if we’d known each other forever. And I supposed we had, even though distance had separated us for a time. But that was behind us, and I was over the moon with joy.
The one thing that continued to bother me was my deteriorated relationship with Gran. I felt so full of family and goodwill as of late, I hated not having someone to share my triumphs with. Yes, Gran and I didn’t get along, and she felt saddled with me when she took me in after Shelly and Keith died, but she was still my family.
Over the past year, I had learned that blood ties didn’t necessary mean anything. After all, Isamu was my dad, for all intents and purposes, and he wasn’t true kin. Benjie was not my flesh and blood, but I couldn’t imagine loving him more if he was. Heidi and Kelly were not really my sisters, but we were close enough to feel related.
It was all relative, really. I had always considered Gran to be family, and it was strange to not talk to her and be driven nuts by her on a regular basis. I even missed her badgering me and giving me dirty looks and exasperated sighs. Family meant sticking together in good times and in bad, and we’d had more than our share of bad. For once, something good had happened, and the newfound optimist in me had a feeling Gran would be thrilled to know there was someone out there who actually looked forward to my visits and phone calls. I figured it would be sort of like letting her off the hook. Maybe the lack of pressure would make her finally come around and loosen up. I had learned firsthand what the lack of pressure will do to a stubborn, slightly neurotic woman.
So, I bit the bullet and called her. I almost expected her to ignore my call. After all, the last real contact I’d had with her was when I received the RSVP for my wedding. “Not attending” had been boldly circled in red pen.
But answer the phone she did, and I listened to her voice with a distinct amount of longing.
“Hello?” The culture in her blue-blooded speech rang true in my ears.
I smiled wistfully. “Hi, Gran. It’s me.”
“Hello, Caitlin. How have you been?” Good manners forced her to ask, I knew. But part of me hoped that maybe she really wanted to know how I had been doing.
“Really well, actually. How have you been?”
“Quite busy. I’ve been elected as president of the gardening club, and we’re organizing some fundraisers and garden parties. There’s so much to do. Muriel Bainbridge was elected as vice-president and she isn’t helping me at all.” Muriel was one of Gran’s on-again, off-again friends, another of the socially superior Gran alternated between being close to and gossiping about.
“Well, un-elect her. You’re the president, aren’t you?”
“I would, but we’re on the church board together, and it would just cause friction. And what would Pastor Williams say? So, I’ll handle it, but she’s got another thing coming if she thinks her name will be on the program as one of the organizers.”
“Gran, could I come by and talk to you? I’ve—well, I’ve missed you, and I have some things to talk to you about.”
“Catie, you’re not pregnant already, are you? Only a few months after your wedding? Or were you pregnant before you got married? No wonder you raced to the altar with that boy. And how are you going to support a baby on your income?”
“Gran, it’s not that at all.” I sighed, suddenly remembering why I stopped talking to her in the first place.
“So, are you having second thoughts about your new husband? I knew you were rushing into things by marrying him so soon. You barely knew him. I was sure you’d eventually regret not taking Michael back. He’s single again, you know.” Her voice was smug and it instantly grated on my nerves. She’d always liked Michael, my ex-boyfriend. With her help, he was another person who tried to throw a wrench into my happiness, and he was a sore subject with Ryan and me.
“No, it’s not that, either. Why do you always expect the worst?” I asked.
“Because life isn’t a fairy tale. Fairy tales don’t exist. I’m sorry, Catie, but you live in a dream world.”
“I feel bad for you, Gran, if you’re really that jaded. I’m coming over. Please let me in when I get there.”
“I simply don’t have the time—”
“See you soon, Gran.”
I grabbed my pocketbook and quickly ran a comb through my hair. Even though my fashionable grandmother would throw a fit to see my raggedy shorts, holey t-shirt and beat-up Converse sneakers, I had to move. I wasn’t going to give her a chance to leave before I got there. I wouldn’t put it past her to try, just to avoid me.
“I’m going to see Gran!” I called out as I got ready to head out the door.
“Without riot gear and a bullet-proof vest?” Ryan quipped as he came out of the kitchen and met me at the door.
“They’re at the cleaners. Wish me luck.”
He kissed me quickly and said, “Honey, you’ll need more than luck. You’ll need a miracle.”
I grinned and made my way to the car. He was right.
Gran had always been cold, grim and unloving and it made my childhood years difficult, to say the least. Recently, she revealed how she resented the fact that her daughter, my adoptive mother, died when I was ten and left her saddled with me. She was too consumed with grief to be able to open herself up to an orphaned, frightened, sad little girl, and it showed by the harsh way she handled me. Thank God I had Isamu to show me love and affection. Without him, I’m not sure how I would have ended up. It was actually a pretty scary thought. It was another of the questions I’d be considering lately, what with Maria coming into my life and our similarities. Would I have been as cool and standoffish as she was if Isamu hadn’t taken me under his wing? I didn’t think so, but I was glad I didn’t have to find out.
Gran’s house was as ostentatious and photo shoot-worthy as always. The trees were in full leaf and they shaded her expansive front lawn from the heat of the mid-summer sun. The cinnamon brick walkway was lined with bright red geraniums and the flower beds were precisely edged and lined with cedar. The white vinyl siding gleamed and the black shutters flanking the windows carried no dirt or dust. Not a single thing was out of order. Of course, she was now the president of the gardening club, so appearances must be kept. It wouldn’t do for a single weed to poke up out of the yards and yards of black gold mulch. I sighed as I looked at it. Something about the military precision of Gran’s gardening made me sad. It appeared as though she was substituting her garden for human contact. It was her way of cultivating something living, but without all the interaction and emotion.
I knocked on the siren red front door with the heavy brass knocker and waited an appropriate four seconds before the door opened and Gran appeared. She even answered the door like an aristocrat.
She looked well. Her hair was coiffed in its usual up-do and her nails were freshly manicured. Her khaki pedal-pushers were starched and crisp. Her pristine white button-down shirt bore fresh iron marks and smelled of starch. Her skin was as smooth and mostly unlined as ever, but then it’s hard to get laugh lines when one never smiles.
She wrinkled her nose at my faded summer garb. “I see marriage hasn’t improved your fashion sense.”
“Nice to see you, too, Gran.” Don’t let her get to you, Catie. Don’t let her push your buttons. You’re here for a reason, I repeated in my head like a mantra.
“Well, come in before you let the air conditioning out,” she directed. The reception I had gotten was so chilly we probably didn’t even need the air conditioner. Still, I dutifully followed Gran inside and flipped off my sneakers just inside the foyer so as to not scuff her freshly-waxed Brazilian cherry floors.
“So, what brings you here after all this time? Are you finally remembering to make time for your family?”
“Gran, that’s not fair. You’re the one who told me you didn’t even consider me family, remember?”
“I remember your attitude, that’s for certain. If you’ve come here to sass me, you can go. I’m a busy woman and I don’t have time for ungrateful, mouthy children.”
I made a conscious effort not to let her get to me, to come in and say what I wanted to without hurling accusations or getting into a fight. It was difficult and I swear I felt my blood pressure rise with every biting retort, but I fought for control and moderated my tone to a respectful, level one. Someone had to be the adult here. Breathing deeply, I looked her in the eye. “Gran, can we please just go into the parlor and talk?” I beseeched.
“Very well — if you insist.” She made yet another disapproving huffing noise and turned away, leading me into the parlor that still looked as though it belonged in a magazine spread. Everything was the same, except that the silver-framed photo of me that usually stood on an antique piecrust table was conspicuously absent. Nice. She’d wiped me right out of her life like she’d wipe away dust with furniture polish, preferring instead to be bitter and miserable, cold and sterile. I guess I no longer went with her décor.
Holding On (Hooking Up) Page 2