by Mike Hopper
“Only if you’d promise not to kill us.”
“How stupid do you think I am?”
Steuart shook his head, looked at his sister and laughed. “Sail your peace.”
“Thanks,” Sam frowned. “I wasn’t trying to get us killed.”
“I know you weren’t. I couldn’t resist. I’d like to have a tree house too. What would we name it?”
“Name it?”
“Yeah, like the houses back home.”
“I have an idea.” Sam sat down, removed a pen and a piece of cardboard from her backpack. “Close your eyes. Don’t look.”
“Okay.”
She worked on a sign. “You can open your eyes now.” She showed the cardboard to her brother.
“Sam-Steuart. Why did you put your name first?”
“Don’t you think it sounds better that way? Sam-Steuart.” Sam said it again.
“Not particularly, but it’s okay.” Steuart smiled. “I like it.” He repeated the name, “Sam-Steuart.”
They said the name together three times, “Sam-Steuart. Sam-Steuart. Sam-Steuart.”
There was a quick chill in the air. They watched as the wind picked up and then settled.
“Right, okay. That’s fun. I like the name, but as much as I might wish this tree house could be ours it’s not. We should go home.”
Sam ignored her brother. She looked out the window again.
Steuart continued, “Can we go now? It’s getting late. Maybe we’ll see a deer. I saw a deer just after I crossed the tracks. Maybe we’ll see a family of deer. Maybe we’ll see a sweet little baby deer and her mother.” Steuart stopped talking when he heard the train coming.
Sam watched and listened from the window. “That was the four o’clock...” she said, “to Chicago.” She said it as if she had been living in Maybell her entire life. “Sam-Steuart,” she said it again. “Too bad it’s not ours.”
“I wonder,” Steuart wrinkled his forehead, “I wonder.”
“What?”
“Wait a minute. I just thought about something. Close your eyes. I’ll show you in a minute.” Steuart took the cardboard from Sam, turned it over and began working with a pen before holding the sign up for his sister to read.
“Open your eyes. Look at this,” Steuart showed the sign to Sam.
They read it aloud together, “Sure-as-Matt.” The wind picked up again. “Sure-as-Matt,” they repeated it. Both Sam and Steuart giggled, “Sure-as-Matt.”
“I don’t believe it,” Sam said. “Why didn’t we think of that one before?”
Steuart shrugged, “Don’t know. I’ve never thought about anagramming our names together before you made the sign.”
“I like both names,” Sam leaned out the window.
“Don’t go anywhere!”
The weather was rapidly changing. “Don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson.” She turned to her brother, “You’re right. It’s time to go home.” Sam packed up her things and started down the ladder with Steuart close behind. As they began the ride home, another train passed.
“Didn’t we just hear the four o’clock to Chicago?”
Steuart made a face. “I don’t know. Maybe they have two.”
FIVE
Adoptive families will sometimes celebrate a gotcha day, marking the adoption anniversary of their child. Some families celebrate with parties. These can be similar to birthdays, including invitations, decorations, family, friends, food, entertainment, and gifts. For Steuart and Sam things were different. Their mother preferred the label, special day and insisted it be treated as a private, solemn occasion.
There were rules. Olivia was strict about celebrating on the exact day of each child’s anniversary. It was understood that there would be a celebration even if something happened to create scheduling confusion. There was usually a cake. There was also a gift. The occasion was always restricted to immediate family. Olivia, Sam and Steuart ate dinner alone, however, their mother always set one extra place setting for an unknown, invisible guest. Typically, the day was more odd than special, but this was what the children knew. They knew that they did not know exactly what to expect, and that was okay.
The special day was always unexpected. One year Steuart had banana pudding because Olivia had a deadline at work. Another year Olivia forgot Sam’s day until late in the afternoon. She spread a tablecloth on the beach and pretended to take the children on a camping trip, complete with pineapple sandwiches and a can of fruit cocktail. Once there was a pistachio ice cream cake. Another year there was a rainbow cake with red, yellow and purple sprinkles. There was the time they had a robot shaped cake. “I thought it was too cute to pass up,” Olivia said, “and the markdown was great.” None of these things mattered to either of the children. They always smiled and enjoyed the time together.
Sam and Steuart learned early that although the choice was theirs, Olivia had the final word on everything. The children knew to behave. Privately, they joked that the special reference created an atmosphere more similar to education than occasion.
Sam looked forward to this particular special day because it was hers. She asked for a watercolor set, one with a pan of paints, a couple of brushes and a pad of watercolor paper. Although this was her third time to ask for art supplies, the possibility looked promising. Peeping into her mother’s bedroom she saw a box that looked like it could hold her request. It was perfectly wrapped and waiting quietly with Sam’s name written across a soft pink and white dotted gift tag. Sam was delighted and pleased, as her powers of magical thinking felt triumphant. Her dinner choice was vegetarian pizza with pineapple added. Steuart requested extra feta and pepperoni on his portion. Soft drinks were a special day treat. Sam lit the candles as the celebration began. Olivia smiled, “We’re fortunate the pizza guy made it out tonight. The weatherman says an early winter blizzard is on the way. Are we ready to begin?”
The children nodded.
Each special day was more than a day of celebration. This was the day each year when Olivia set time aside to remind Sam and Steuart that they legally belonged to her. “Make no mistake, pay attention to what I am telling you. Legally, you are my children. You both belong to me.” She then confused the issue by explaining that they were not her children. “As much as I wish I had given birth to you, I can only tell you that I did not.” At ten and twelve, Sam and Steuart understood the basics, but did not fully understand the concept of adoption. One thing was clear; their family was similar to others in that overlooking daily dysfunction was a choice. This is what they knew.
Olivia shared the same story during every special day dinner, beginning with a lecture about blessings. The children knew to pay attention, and understood their mother’s need to vent. Sam and Steuart were accustomed to hearing how their mother went through many years of interviews and group meetings in preparation for their adoptions. They were also accustomed to hearing how they needed to be thankful for the opportunities she had given them.
First, Olivia talked about her least favorite home inspecting, interviewing social worker. “To say that I did not care for that woman would be an understatement, but I did what I had to do. And you should think about this because, as Right, Good, and Appropriate tells us, we are each called upon, from time to time, to do things that we find distasteful. That’s daily life, and a lesson best learned sooner than later. We are always stronger than our obstacles. Remember that.”
The children nodded.
From there Olivia moved into a mini lecture outlining her personal sacrifices and including how her career suffered throughout the lengthy adoption process. “In those days a woman had to stop working for an entire year because the agency was looking for the complete devotion of a full-time mother. There would be no special day to celebrate had I continued working and taken an available promotion. I’m proud of my sacrifices.” Olivia wore them like a thick, heavy overcoat.
She talked at length about the anguish of not being able to have her own biological children and
about the embarrassment of having to adopt. “This is not because adoption is a bad thing,” she’d explain. “I obviously believe it’s quite wonderful. However, we all know that people can be both cruel and well meaning at the same time. It becomes exhausting trying to explain to everyone that you are unable to have your own babies. I would have preferred not to tell anyone.” She shook her head and ate a bite of pizza, “It’s no one’s business but ours. Unfortunately, you need to know the truth about these things. And, I believe it would be wrong to deceive either of you. So, in my quest to do the right thing, I have responded to, and accepted the prying questions, patronizing opinions, and ridicule of others.”
Sam and Steuart listened to stories about the guilt they should feel. “It is not that you are ungrateful. It is quite simply that you do not understand the plight of a single parent. How could you?” She took a sip of iced tea and munched on her pizza. “I do not expect that you will understand. Neither of you is at fault for these things that have happened in our lives. Then again, without these things the three of us wouldn’t be a family.”
Olivia talked for a long while explaining “the worst humiliation of all…” she looked off in the distance, “when Grady DuBoise, my mistake of a husband, your adoptive father, ran around and left me. I do not know what more I could have done to keep our marriage intact. Truth be known, we’re better off without him.” She went on to suggest that Grady might not have strayed had Sam and Steuart been his biological children. She took another bite of pizza, frowned and said, “I’ve done well for myself and I’ve flourished without that…” She sipped her tea. “I’ve taken care of things. It’s irrelevant now. What is important is for you to know that even though Grady ran from his responsibilities as a parent, a responsibility that he requested and later denied, I have not. I remain ever vigilant and committed to both of your needs as well as my parental duties and obligations.”
Sam and Steuart listened to stories about their unfortunate biological situations. Olivia explained how she saved them from a probable trailer-park lifestyle and then shared the story about Steuart’s biological mother, whom she described as “…some sort of odd bookworm who wore glasses all the time; a young woman obviously ignorant about the world even though she and her parents had advanced degrees.”
Regarding Sam’s background, Olivia had little information. “She was older,” but Olivia was unaware of the woman’s age. She suggested, “she might have been in trouble with the law but that is merely a hunch.” In both situations, there was no mention of a birth father.
Steuart never understood how Olivia made the connection between education and trailer parks. He searched the thesaurus but never found the word trailer with trash as a synonym. Although he wanted to dispute his mother’s words, Steuart understood, as did his sister, that it was unwise to challenge Olivia on this subject. It was best to sit quietly, listen attentively, and participate only when called upon.
Steuart and Sam knew how and when to comfort their mother. They did this frequently, on cue, just as they were taught. They said exactly the things she expected to hear, “Oh, Mother, how lucky we are to have been adopted by you.” It was at this moment, convinced that her children were completely aware of their inadequacy as offspring, yet appreciative of her superiority and benevolence that Olivia, now in tears, rose from her chair and left the room in search of her handkerchief. Relieved, Steuart and Sam enjoyed the knowledge that their mother would be away for a while repairing her make-up.
Steuart continued to enjoy pizza while Sam prepared mentally for her new watercolors. Overcome with excitement, she looked at her brother, smiled and softly giggled, “I saw the box,” she whispered. Her eyes twinkled in the candlelight.
“Did you get it?”
“Yes! I didn’t hold it, but I saw it. It’s the right size. I’m almost sure-as-Matt.”
“Yay!” Steuart softly, but enthusiastically cheered.
Because they understood the importance of good behavior Sam and Steuart sat straight in their chairs as they patiently waited for their mother to return. Sam tried calming herself by taking deep breaths. She stiffened a bit and closed her eyes. She had a brief daydream about what she planned to do with the paints and then wondered how to mix the colors, keeping them from becoming ugly and brown. Sam hadn’t painted in a long while. Before the move, she enjoyed using her grandmother’s watercolors. Sam looked forward to calling Ida and discussing art.”
The children continued to wait.
Sam thought about painting. She considered what she should wear as she wanted to avoid ruining her good clothes. She thought about the best places to paint. She didn’t want to make a mess. She couldn’t wait. What would she paint first? Suddenly, she had the perfect idea—a thank you painting for her mother. She would paint a picture of the new house, complete with the big tree in the front yard and the river in the back. “Mother will love it,” she whispered softly to herself. She imagined her mother having the gift custom framed before hanging it above the sideboard in the dining room.
Olivia’s bedroom door opened and then closed. She spoke with a laugh in her voice, “Here I come.” She walked down the hall carrying Sam’s gift, stopping first in the kitchen for another box.
One box, wrapped in multi-colored polka dot paper, the one Sam saw in her Mother’s bedroom, looked beautiful tied with delicate French ribbon. Olivia placed it to the side. She laid the second, plain white, cardboard box on the table and opened one end. Holding the edges, she pulled out a single layer cake. Frosted in white, the cake delivered a message piped in pink that simply read: Best Wishes.
“Pretty, pretty, oh, so pretty,” Sam gushed. Steuart finished his pizza and moved his plate aside.
It was time for cake and more of the talk. Olivia began, “Samantha Leigh, we all know you need to watch your calories, so I elected to forgo the ice cream this year. We need to keep temptation out of sight.”
“Yes ma’am,” Sam nodded. “That’s okay.”
“Of course it is.” Olivia reached for the knife and began cutting slices. She looked at Sam and smiled. “This cake is made with artificial sweetener. Let me cut your slice first.” She passed a small slice to Sam before cutting a larger slice for Steuart and an even larger slice for herself. Sam didn’t care. She would have been happy with anything.
The little cake looked tasty. It was yellow flavor. Sam took a bite. Her eyes were fixed on the box with the ribbon. Olivia gently tapped on the rim of her dessert plate, “Remember Sam, we must wait until everyone finishes before opening our gift.”
“Hobo rank duels,” Steuart whispered.
“What was that?” Olivia asked her son.
“This day is cool,” Steuart said loudly with a sly smile. “I’m proud to celebrate with my lovely mother and wonderful sister on her special day.”
“Steuart James, what a nice thing for you to say.”
Sam ate a big bite of cake, chased it with a sip of soft drink, and swallowed quickly, “This is tasty Mother.”
Olivia ate her slice slowly. This was partially because of its size, but also because she liked to talk more than eat. It was time to talk about the files. “The files can be opened. You understand what I am telling you?” Olivia repeated herself as she looked at each child.
Bored, they each nodded, but didn’t say a word.
“That means the agency will allow you permission to open your files.” She took a bite of cake, a sip of iced tea, and continued, “No one other than you has this right. You do not even have the right before you turn eighteen and there are many good reasons for that.”
“What’s that Mother?” Steuart asked.
Sam gave her brother a hard look and kicked him under the table.
“You need to be of sound mind, in other words, you must be old enough to understand and consider what you are seeing. When you are eighteen years of age, you will each have the option of opening your files and finding out about your biological parents, as well as where you came from…�
� she paused for a bite of cake and continued, “provided the information is included.”
Olivia sighed, “You are the only ones who have this authority. Even your biological parents have no way of finding you. That is for your protection. It is entirely up to you…” She grabbed Sam’s hand, patted it, let go, and pointed towards heaven in one smooth movement, “Of course, I will never stop you from doing what you want to do. It would be wrong of me to try to influence either one of you in this highly personal matter. Certainly, I have my own ideas, but unless you ask for my opinion, I will keep my thoughts to myself.” She took another bite of cake, chewed and swallowed, “I will always love you both. I will always…” she began to tear up, “be your mother, no matter what you should choose to do, and no matter what mistakes you might make along the way. This is a highly personal decision.”
Steuart and Sam exchanged glances. Their mother cleared her throat, “Let us hope that I will have taught you well by that time and that you will recognize my contributions as well as my effort. No matter how much pain or discomfort it may bring to me, or to my heart, I will support both of your choices. I realize this is a difficult conversation. I only talk about it on these special days because I am aware of how quickly time will pass. Tomorrow you will both be grown. You must be informed in order to make your best decision. As the only responsible parent in your lives, it’s incumbent upon me to help with your preparation.”
“Any questions?” Olivia wiped her mouth again before continuing, “There is always excitement regarding things unknown, especially when you are young. Unfortunately, the outcome is not often what we may wish it to be.” She shook her head, “If you should choose to look at those files, you will have to live with the consequences of your choices while, at the same time, being mindful that these choices will not only effect you, but will also infect, sorry, I intended to say effect, our entire family. For that reason, I recommend that you make your choices thoughtfully and with great care.”
Olivia paused, took a breath, looked at her slice of cake, and continued, “Some people feel that it’s a good idea to look at the files. I’m not certain how many of those people have actual, practical knowledge or experience. It might be interesting to know. Anyway, some people believe it is a good idea because of medical reasons. I understand that this could be helpful in rare situations. You might receive lifesaving information. However, the information could also create problems for you. Please understand that I am not trying to catastrophize the situation. I just need to make sure that I present you with all sides of the issue.”