Taking the first step
Adopted. The word rang in my head. How could this happen to me? Today of all days, my whole life was turning upside down and there was no way I could change it. Today was meant to be great. My day. Instead I was being told that I was adopted, that the people I had been calling mum and dad for the past sixteen years of my life had been nothing but imposters, liars even. They sat there staring at me with worried eyes. Worried, ha if they were so worried they would have told me this life altering news when I was younger, then maybe it would have had less of an impact, but no they chose to tell me now. On my sixteenth birthday. My special day.
"Charity, honey, we know that this must come as a shock to you..."I tuned them out. A shock, what a joke. A shock would be passing math's exam no this was life altering, not a simple shock. Who was I now? Was I the same person I had been when I had woken up? Or was I somehow changed? How did one know whether one was changed or remained the same? Was I a completely different person now? If not, was I expected to become one? All these questions were running through my head but the most important question was where did I get the answers and how. I felt betrayed, how could the people I loved, and who claimed loved me back, do this to me? The Imposters where still sitting opposite me prattling on about shocks and... whoa did he just say that?
Dad? Bruce? My father? What did I now call this man who was sitting opposite me? Dad, I decided, it's what I had always called him and it was familiar. He was telling me that they had pictures of my birth parents and that they could show me them. I don't want to see them. Its scary my whole world had been turned upside down and I had no control over anything. Mum asks if I want to see the pictures, I nod. What else can I do I can hardly say no. can I? Too late now, dad has gone to get the pictures.
I'm so confused. My day had started out normal enough. I had gone downstairs for breakfast where asked what cereal I wanted. My parents had been sitting on one side of the kitchen table and I on the other, when I had sat down I noticed the tension in the air. I stopped the spoon halfway and stared at my parents wondering 'what have I done now?' I was racking my brains looking for the offence when mum goes "charity, we've got something to tell you. You were adopted. We know this must come as a shock." By this point I'm frozen in horror but they go on "we tried to tell you over the years but the timing never seemed right and well, to be honest, we kept putting it off. We tried to think of another way to tell you but we kept coming up blank.
Im shaking, trembling actually, I don't want to see the pictures. But on the other hand I'm curious; will I see myself in them? I'm so confused. I look up and see mum crying silently into a tissue. I want to comfort her, I do. But what do I say? I'm sorry? Well I can hardly apologize for being adopted now can I? It wasn't my fault. I reach out and pat her hand reassuringly; at least I hope it's reassuringly. Bruce comes back in with a black box. I smile grimly at the irony; my life is inside a black box. My hands become clammy; it's the moment of truth. I open the black box and stare in amazed horror.
I look like them. Well not exactly more like a combination of the two. His eyes, her hair, these people are my parents. I start to wonder why they gave me up in the first place. More questions enter my mind. Did they love me? Were they forced to give me away? Or was I just a mistake and adoption was a way out for them? Had I not been good enough for them? Wait, dad is saying something, I gather my thoughts and listen to what he's saying "Charity, if you want you can visit them" no I think to myself I don't want to meet these people. They gave me up when I was just a baby. I don't want to meet them, I don't need to.
Mum and Dad sit in front of me, dad's eyes are shining with unshed tears and mums cheeks are wet with the tears she has shed. They are holding each other's hands tightly. So tightly that there knuckles have gone white. These are my parents with their unwavering loyalty and love. They are the ones who taught me to read, to ride a bike and who have listened to me complain about my issues and then offered advice. I loved them. This was where I belonged, with the people who I loved, and who loved me in return. I smiled and leaned over the table closing the distance between us and placing my hand on top of theirs. This was my family.
