My mother.
It was heady to say it, to even think it. It had been four months since I’d learned of her existence, but it was still new, still shiny. I thought I’d lost my family forever, and yet, here I was, about to pick up Maria and take her home.
The drive was entirely too short. It seemed as though fate had cleared the way for me, for once anyway, and purposely made the traffic light. Thirty-five minutes after setting out, I pulled into the airport and walked to gate 4.
I had time to kill, so I backtracked to the airport gift shop I had spotted on my way to the gate and bought a scrawny bouquet of roses some greedy soul had decided to price at a hundred dollars. Highway robbery, but people wishing to show their love for those departing or arriving wouldn’t let something so insignificant as money deter them.
By the time the gift shop credit card machine rang up my purchase, I had five minutes to get back to the gate. I raced back, despite the warning of a wimpy-looking security guard. I had more important things to worry about, and besides, I figured I could take him if he tried to tackle me.
A soothing voice announced the arrival of the flight from Kissimmee, and my heart thumped double-time, stopped once then hit my throat, competing with my nausea, which had returned full-force. I did my best to ignore it, because she was finally here!
I watched various bedraggled-looking people walk up the ramp but didn’t see her. I started to panic. Good God, did she miss her flight? Did I get all worked up and throw up for nothing? My insides clenched and I felt like I might retch again, but then I saw her, half a head taller than all the other female passengers on the flight.
“Maria? Maria! Over here!” I shouted, waving my arms and jumping up and down like a complete ninny, even though I was also half a head taller than those littering the gate and quite easily visible without acrobatics. But I couldn’t help it. She was here!
“Catie! Oh, Catie!” she shouted back and pushed her way through the crush of passengers. I surged forward and we met in the middle, clinging and laughing and crying all at the same time. She was warm, slender, real, and the enormity of our meeting hit me in a giant rush that threatened to buckle my knees. She was finally here, my birth mother, and finally mine.
She drew back and gazed into my tear-filled eyes with tear-filled ones of her own. “You’re beautiful,” she said simply. She brushed a strand of hair away from my face and said with wonder in her voice, “I know you. You’re mine. You’re part of me.”
“Welcome home, Maria,” I said, giving her another squeeze.
We threaded our arms together and went to retrieve her luggage, chatting all the while like long-separated best friends.
“How was your flight?” I asked, savoring each word she spoke, the cadence, so southern and sweet in my ear. Her Floridian accent was delightful to me and so different from my northern twang.
“Just fine. Long, but fine. Lord, but I’m tired. And where’s Ryan? He’s not with you?”
“No, he’s at home with Benjie. He’s cooking steak for you.”
“Oh, sounds lovely. I’m famished. And I can’t wait to meet Benjie! Just think; I’m a mother and a grandmother, all on the same day!” She laughed in delight.
“Pretty weird, huh?”
“Actually, yes, but a blessing, too. I can’t wait to meet them. You’ve told me so much about them already, I feel like I’ve known them forever.”
I smiled at that and escorted this lovely woman, who looked slightly more fragile and open than she had in her picture, home.
Benjie and Ryan were waiting for us when we arrived, lined up inside the front door in welcome. Ryan gave her a huge hug and said, “Maybe now she can stop worrying. Welcome home, Maria.”
Benjie piped up and said, “Gosh, Catie, this is your mommy? She’s pretty. Can we keep her?”
I laughed and said, “That’s the plan, Benjie, my man. What’s for dinner?”
“We cooked steak for you.”
“You did?” I ruffled his hair.
“Well, I watched, but Daddy let me hit the meat with the big thing. Whatsit called, Daddy?”
“A meat tenderizer.”
“Yeah, that. I hit the meat with it. It was fun. Some of it got everywhere.”
Ryan nodded and winced a bit at that admission from his son. “We cleaned it up.”
I hid a smile. “Well, I can’t wait to try it. Is it ready?” I asked Benjie.
“Yep,” he piped up angelically. “I get to sit next to Grammy.”
“To who?” I asked, mystified. The things that came out of his mouth were always good for a laugh. Or a cringe.
“I call my mommy’s mommy Grammy, and she’s your mommy, so that’s her name, too,” he stated indignantly, obviously annoyed that I didn’t get it immediately.
“Grammy, huh? I love it,” Maria declared, and it was settled. We moved to the kitchen table and sat.
“May I say Grace?” Mom asked.
“Absolutely. I think this day calls for some thanks,” Ryan said. We linked hands and Mom started to speak.
“Dear Lord, thank you for second chances and for family, and for forgiveness and acceptance. Amen.”
“Amen? What men?” Benjie said, and we all laughed. Then we dug in and had our first meal as a family.
It was beyond incredible, breaking bread with these people, this family of mine, and I’d never felt so complete. This is what I had been wanting for so long, and to finally get it was more than I could really comprehend. Such good things didn’t normally happen to me. I kept waiting for the axe to fall, to wake up, for something to happen that would remind me it was really my life, but it didn’t. The good kept coming, even after we finished eating and pushed back from the table, full of food and life and happiness.
Ryan and Benjie decided to take a walk and discreetly left me with Maria. We sat in the living room, just staring at each other and taking it all in, this weird, wonderful meeting. Then the quizzing started. It’s not like we hadn’t answered these questions via email, but to do so face-to-face and hand-in-hand was something else entirely, something profound and truly amazing.
“What’s your favorite color?” I asked her.
“Hmm. Red, I think.”
“Red?” I asked. “Why?”
“Well, it’s the color of passion, of fire. I love it. How about you?”
“Hmm. I like yellow. It’s sunny and happy.”
“Ok. What’s your favorite movie?”
“Easy. Under the Tuscan Sun.”
“Mine, too!” she exclaimed.
“Nuh-uh!” I accused, playfully frowning at her.
“No, really. I’d love to go see Tuscany.”
“Me, too. It’s so beautiful. But I bet my allergies would drive me nuts with all the grass and pollen.”
“You have allergies, too?”
“Oh, yeah. Big time. I suppose I have you to thank for that.”
“Unfortunately, yes. I about die every spring.”
“Maria, can I ask you something?”
“Of course. I thought that’s what we were doing.”
“No, that was fun. This is serious.”
She shifted and clasped my hands tighter in her own. “You can ask me anything. I assume this is about your father.”
“How did you know?” I wondered.
“Well, in your shoes, I’d want to know all I could about my past, and my father would be a big part of that.”
“You’re right. I really hoped you’d be able to tell me who he was.”
“I wish I knew. I think about him all the time, still. He left a big piece of himself with me, after all.” She smiled wistfully.
“You can say that again. Well, what do you know about him?” I asked, intrigued and worried all at once. What if he was a jerk and that was the only thing she could tell me? What if her only memories of the man who sired me were bad ones? Would I be alright with that? Was looking at my face forcing her to relive her own bad memories?
“He was
tall, over six feet. I’m tall myself, and I remember having to tilt my head up to look at him. And he had a great smile. It lit up the room. It was what drew me to him.”
“Will you tell me about the night you, uh, met?” I asked, trying not to focus on the fact that she was telling me about a hook-up, especially since I was the product of that hook-up. Who wants to think about their parents doing it? To quote Benjie: Eww!
“Well, it was a fraternity party. It was Hell Week, and all the sororities were in full-swing, hazing the new pledges and partying. My sorority was making the rounds at all the frat houses, where they were also hazing their new pledges. We had to go to each frat house, shout our names, and holler that we were pledging Phi Kappa Gamma. Then we’d get a hug or a kiss from the big brothers and move out of the way for the next pledge to go. When it was my turn, your father came over to me and gave me this amazing kiss that about blew me away. I decided, against my sorority sisters’ wishes, to stay at the frat house with him. We danced and drank and talked for what seemed like hours.”
“Was he nice?”
“Oh my, yes. He told me he was a psychology major, and he was as handsome as he was sweet. He had short, dark-brown hair and the most amazing blue eyes. They were just simply electric. I already told you about his smile, but when you put the whole package together, he was incredible. He just dazzled me. And he wanted me. I was shocked. I was always shy, you see, and it was actually why I pledged. I thought it would help me come out of my shell, but that’s a different story. Anyway, I was very flattered by his attentions, and when he asked me upstairs, I went.”
“And you never saw him again?” I asked, sad for Maria. It was pretty obvious she had feelings for my father, even though she’d only met him that night, and I felt bad that even though she’d known him intimately, she never got to really know him.
“No, never,” she said sadly. “I wanted to, but like I told you, he was only in town for the night. I didn’t know it at the time, of course, and I never did ask him where home was. I guess it didn’t occur to me I’d ever need to know. When I found out I was pregnant, I asked around at the frat house, but like I told you before, nobody knew anything.”
“Do you regret what happened?” I had to ask, much as the question scared me. But too many adults in my life regretted their past decisions where I was concerned, and I had to know now, before I got too attached.
“I regret that I was forced to give you up. I never wanted that. My parents were strictly religious, and they disapproved of abortion. But they also disapproved of unwed, pregnant teenagers, so they called me into the living room and gave me an ultimatum: either abort the pregnancy, or go someplace to have the baby, then give it away. They connected me with an adoption agency up here that all but yanked you from my arms the minute I gave birth to you. Oh, Catie, you were so lovely. You had such a full head of dark hair, and your eyes were the deepest, darkest blue I’d ever seen. They looked like your father’s eyes, and it made me smile to just gaze into them. You didn’t even cry when you were born. You just sort of looked around, took stock of the situation, and yawned. It was the funniest thing I’d ever seen.”
“Why didn’t you fight for me?” I asked plaintively.
“At that time, I had nothing other than my parents, and to disobey them would have meant losing my home and any means of supporting you. I would have been on the streets with an infant, with no job and no place to live. How could I have raised you in that kind of environment? Besides, Shelly and Keith and I had already signed a contract by the time I went into labor, and to back out would have meant a hefty lawsuit I had no way to defend. My parents certainly wouldn’t have helped me do that.”
“Oh.” The regret must have been obvious in my voice, because she sighed and took both of my hands in hers.
“Sweetie, I never forgot your face. Every night before I fell asleep, I said a prayer for you, and asked God to keep you safe for me. Never seeing you again was not an option. It never crossed my mind. I lived for the day I could see you again.”
“So, why didn’t you come for me before?”
“I wasn’t in a good place. After I let you go, I went through a—phase, I guess you could say. I ran around with men, I drank, I rebelled against my parents in any way I could. I turned myself into a black sheep, and I reveled in it. I suppose I was punishing them. There was that, and the fact I knew you’d be upset and confused if I re-entered your life. I didn’t want that for you. And I had promised your parents that I wouldn’t.”
I sighed, thinking back to the day I found out my adoptive parents had died. I had been only ten years old. Gran had called me into the room and said, “Caitlin, your parents’ plane went down. There were no survivors.” Back then, I hadn’t known I was adopted, and the news that my parents were gone destroyed me. I sat at my window the whole day, looking down at the driveway, waiting for them to come home, all the while listening to the sound of Gran’s sobs bouncing off the too-empty halls. Then the neighbors started coming, hugging me and staring at me with damp, sorrowful eyes. It was a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from, and it continued through the funeral and even years after, as I suffered through Gran’s indifference and cold disapproval.
“But why now? Why not then?” I couldn’t help but wonder if Gran had been right after all. Did she have an agenda? Why would she suddenly decide to re-enter my life?
“Catie, I didn’t even know Shelly and Keith died until Isamu found me. We never spoke after the day I gave birth to you. They said they didn’t want me in your life. They said they were your family now. They didn’t need me to complicate things. Had I known you were orphaned, maybe things would have been different, but you were still so young and I had a lot of growing up to do myself.”
“Yes, I was young, but I still needed you.” I knew my voice was harsh, as was the message behind it. But it was so unfair. I had a mother who professed to love me, who claimed to think of me every day, but instead of coming to my rescue, she left me with a cold-hearted harridan who refused to even offer me the slightest bit of affection. Alright, so she hadn’t known I was alone, but it still made me angry.
“I know, but I don’t think I could have been what you needed me to be at the time.” She gazed at me through moist eyes, and the anger grew quicker than I could control it.
“How do you know that? You would have been better than what I had.”
“What do you mean? Isamu said you lived with your grandmother after Shelly and Keith died. I remember talking to them about her and how well-to-do she was. It was one of the reasons I chose them for you. I knew you’d be taken care of. I know she provided you with a lovely home. They showed me a picture once, while I was pregnant.”
“A home?” A harsh laugh escaped my lips. “No, she provided a roof over my head and food on the table. And she provided me with constant criticism and ridicule for every single one of my choices. And she withheld love and affection because she resented me. But you couldn’t be what I needed you to be? Anything would have been better than that. A house isn’t a home without love.”
“Oh, honey. I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” Her expression turned horrified and tears spilled from her troubled violet eyes. I instantly felt bad for unloading on her. I guessed I still had some healing to do after the trauma I’d survived. Had I just blown it with her, or was she willing to work past the grief and build a relationship with her wounded daughter?
“No, I’m sorry. You just got here, and I’m unloading on you. I’m pretty good at that, you know. Just ask Ryan.”
She smiled at that, the shocked expression melting off her face. It seemed I was forgiven yet again for my outburst. “He seems wonderful, by the way. You never did tell me how you two met.”
I smiled at her. “He was a one-night stand.”
“Like mother, like daughter?” she asked, laughing.
“I guess you could say that,” I returned, realizing when Maria said those things, it didn’t feel the same as when Gran said it. When
Maria said it, it was actually even a little funny.
We talked long into the night and eventually fell asleep on the couch together. So this was what unconditional familial love felt like. I don’t remember ever feeling so secure, and as I drifted to sleep, I wished such a feeling would last forever.
Chapter 7
Maria’s move into her apartment, only about fifteen minutes away from our place, went smoothly. Ryan was wonderful, enlisting the help of a few of his police buddies to help us.
“Put that lamp over there, Danny. Thanks,” Maria said as he walked past her, shouldering a heavy floor lamp with marble detailing. She gave him a smile and a pat on the arm as he put the lamp down on the right side of the tufted sofa he and Ryan had hauled in moments before.
“You’re welcome, ma’am,” Danny returned gravely, a captivated look on his face I found hysterical. She was a looker, alright, even with the streak of gray in her hair, and it appeared she’d already turned the heads of a few of Ryan’s coworkers.
“Now, Ms. DiCarlo, where do you want this chair?” Waterman asked from behind the large slipper chair he and Jones were carrying inside.
“Right over there is fine. By the fireplace. Yes, that’s it. Thank you so much. I just love to watch men at work,” she all but purred, her voice bursting with southern charm. As she turned around to move a box across the room, the men stared at her appreciatively and blushed when she caught them looking. I laughed. Maria had put a spell on them already, just like she had with Benjie.
We walked back down to the moving truck and as we climbed up and stacked boxes on the edge of the trailer for the men to carry in, I looked around and smirked. It appeared men both young and old were susceptible to a beautiful woman and her many charms. I counted three salt-and-pepper or balding heads peeking out from behind their apartment curtains, watching Maria’s every move with rabid lust on their faces. Ryan approached the truck and I subtly gestured at the other apartments. “Look.”
Holding On (Hooking Up) Page 5