Umbilicus: An autobiographical novel

GIRLHOOD

'OKAY, SO WHEN DID you first find out you were adopted?' she starts.

'It's something I've always just known. My folks told me at a very young age, so I guess it never came as a huge shock or anything. I think everyone knew. Everyone in our extended family anyway. And my closest school friends. But it wasn't something I went around advertising.' You pause for a moment. 'By the same token, it wasn't something that was exactly easy to hide.'

'How do you mean?'

'Well, I've got a younger brother, Robert, who's also adopted. He arrived the day before my third birthday.' Another pause. You've never actually spoken to anyone about any of this stuff before. It's uncharted territory. You hope things don't come out wrong. 'Sorry, I just hate the word "arrived." It sounds like a damn parcel in the post.'

She nods in empathy.

'Anyway, we look nothing alike.'

'Is that a big issue for you? Not looking like your brother?'

'More like not looking like anyone! Especially in primary school, when all you want to do is fit in, blend in, with all your friends, yes, it was a big issue for me. Being different back then was not cool at all. I was terrified of being teased or bullied if people found out I was adopted.'

'Were you ever teased or bullied?'

'No. Thank God. But I had to listen to kids telling jokes like, "How do you stop a baby from crying? You don't. You give it up for adoption." And actual blood-related siblings saying stuff like, "Please excuse the freak, he's adopted." For some reason, a lot of people assume because you're adopted there's something wrong with you.'

Her eyes fill with sadness. 'Oh, Charlotte. That is too awful. Gosh, people can be so ignorant and cruel.'

'For me, personally, the worst was when some kid, usually in front of other kids, would ask me loudly why my brother and I looked nothing alike. The same way ginger kids are often singled out for looking different to anyone else in their family. I would feel myself turning red, and get all flustered and stuff, like I had been caught out in a giant lie.'

'What would you say?'

'I'd say my brother looked like my mom and I looked like my dad, and then just pray to God they never saw us together. Basically, the whole way through primary school I lived in fear of being found out.'

'That must've been incredibly taxing. Hiding such a big part of yourself, your identity.'

'Tell me about it. Like a gay kid pretending to be straight.'

You see her digesting this piece of information.

'And then eventually, somewhere in high school, I think around Standard Eight or so, I reached a point where I guess I felt I had grown a thick enough skin, and started feeling more confident about coming out. I found the more I talked about being adopted, the less shameful it became. The stigma just kinda fell away. It was like a massive weight lifted off my shoulders. And by the time I finished school I was totally open about it. Everyone knew. Now if the subject of adoption comes up in any conversation, I tell people straight, "I'm adopted." '

'And how do they react?'

'Some say things like, "I don't know how a mother can give away her child." Or, "I don't think you can ever love a stranger's baby like your own." But most are just curious. They want to know if I've met my real mother yet, why she couldn't keep me, that kind of stuff.'

She shifts slightly in her chair and takes a sip of coffee.

'I had this really interesting debate with Gray the other day. He's also of the opinion all adopted kids are "damaged" in some way. Not necessarily through any fault of our own, but because of circumstances beyond our control.'

She nods, intrigued.

'But I explained to him adopted kids are not all the same. My brother and I are a perfect case in point. While he knows I've always wanted to find my birth mother, he says finding his own birth mother is something in which he's not the slightest bit interested. He is adamant Mom and Dad are our parents, the ones who raised us, and that it's disrespectful of me to now go looking for this other woman.'

'Oh wow.'

'Yeah, he's very protective of my folks. He's their golden boy. When I go over to London, he'll be starting his Business Science degree at UCT. He's super bright.'

'Your folks must be very proud of him.'

'They are. Unfortunately I'm not really varsity material. So they're kinda pegging all their hopes on him.'

'Did both of your parents go to university then?'

'Yip, UCT. That's where they met. In April 1964, ten years before I was born.'

'When did they get married?'

'In December 1970.'

'Really? What date in December?'

'Seventeenth.'

'That's incredible! Dylan — your dad — and I got married exactly one week later, the very next year, on 24th December 1971.'

'No way! That's amazing.' You are quiet a moment as you digest this nugget of information, marvelling at the way the lives of these two newlywed couples would soon collide when a certain baby girl entered their worlds a few years later.