18. After

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That first conversation with Barry was one of the first steps I took toward forgiving myself. I still haven't quite gotten there, but his words resonated with me, and it was the first time I let myself believe that maybe I wasn't as responsible as I held myself for the events that played out. It was easy to see all the signs in hindsight, knowing what would happen, when I was looking for them. But at the time, I had a hectic job at a huge law firm, a plurality of friends, a demanding volunteer schedule, and what I thought was a loving boyfriend. I didn't have time to look under the surface of anything. Maybe a smarter woman would have noticed when things felt off, but I had always been good at deceiving myself.

Like everyone else, I'd been in my fair share of relationships in which my friends unanimously warned me the guy wasn't committed, and, like everyone else, I drowned in the thunderstorm of heartbreak every time. I was just so happy with Connor, and for once my friends and family weren't raining on my parade.

I'm startled from my reminiscing by the phone, one of the few interruptions to my solitude these days. Groaning internally at the thought of having to speak to my mother again, I relax a tiny bit when I see it's not her, but Cara.

"Hey Care" I answer cautiously, never quite sure how my friends will be reacting to me on any particular day.

"Jade!" her voice is enthusiastic, but I can hear the force in her light tone. She's trying too hard.

"What's up?"

"So, I was thinking, I know you don't like to go out in public too much with the-" she falters, "the reporters. But what if we held a little shindig in private?"

"In private?" I echo.

"Yeah! Like we could come to you at your house! Or, if you aren't up to hosting we could totally do it here! Either way! It's just, it's been a while since we've seen you and well, we miss you Jade."

I know my mother has put her up to this. It's funny how when a tragedy takes over your life, all the parts of your world that were in separate, organized categories start meshing together into one. My mother met Cara at a search party for Anna, and just like that she was intricately connected to all of my friends, colluding with them on the regular.

"I don't know..." I hem and haw, trying to come up with some reason why I can't get together.

"Oh come on Jade!" Cara's voice has lost its lightness, "You can't stay cooped up in that house forever. What Connor did, it's terrible, but you didn't do anything. Why should you serve out a sentence for a crime you didn't commit? Putting yourself under house arrest doesn't help anyone. You have to make an effort to get your life back, or in five years you'll still be sitting on your couch, ordering groceries from Peapod."

So my mom told her about the groceries. Great. Like my friends don't think I'm pathetic enough.

I don't have the energy to argue with her so, surprising myself, I relent, "Fine."

"Fine?" Cara's caught off guard.

"Yeah fine, you guys can come over. You better bring food because I don't know if I can schedule a delivery by tomorrow night."

"Great!" Cara sounds proud of herself, "Can't wait to see you girl!"

I don't bother sounding excited, "I'll see you tomorrow," I respond flatly, hanging up on her.

"Great," I say out loud to Ruby, who is wagging her tail, excited at the sound of the phone ringing. The poor thing has to live for the small moments these days.

I turn back to the file on Connor. Ever since my phone call with Barry, what I've really been curious about is Connor's life before his final foster parents. There must, I reason, be something that made Connor the way he is. Some pivotal event, some horrible past. And I am determined to find out what it is.

I've been working on finding his biological parents. Connor, of course, never mentioned them, why would he when he didn't even tell me he was adopted. Barry didn't know anything either, when I asked. He told me that Connor had already been cycled through so many foster parents by the time he reached them, that they weren't even told what the situation with his biological parents was when they took Connor in.

But I've been determined to find them and today, is the day I might make a break through. Two weeks ago, I applied for Connor's birth certificate through the mail. I had his passport, and technically only Connor should have been able to apply, but I faked his signature on the application hoping they wouldn't notice. It turns out they didn't. This morning, encompassed in a fancy priority envelope, thanks to the expedited shipping I paid for, Connor's birth certificate arrived. On it, in official script, were the names of his biological parents. Lucy Marie Carter and Jackson Matthew Carter.

I plug the names into google now, along with the county in Kentucky they were from. The first thing that comes up is an obituary.

"Lucy Marie Carter was born May 8, 1960 and passed away in August 1995. Lucy graduated from Larue County High School in 1978, and will be remembered as the beloved librarian's assistant who spent her days at Larue County Public Library.  Lucy was married to Jackson Carter, and leaves behind a son, Connor Carter. A memorial mass at Hodgenville Church of Christ will be held on August 28, 1995 at 11:00 am, with reception to follow. Internment will occur at Red Hill Cemetery at a later date."

Connor was ten.

I can't imagine losing my mother at ten years old. Especially being an only child like Connor was.

I find myself growing angry again, heat nipping at my face. How could Connor never have even mentioned this to me? This was such a huge part of who he was! Why did he try to hide it? I wouldn't have loved him any less knowing he was adopted, from a small town in Kentucky, or that his mom died when he was so little. If anything, I would have loved him more for the parts of him who made him who he is today.

My thoughts halt abruptly at the last sentence. Who he is today. A kidnapper. A criminal. A loving husband. A committed employee. A...so many things.

I close my laptop. That's enough for now.

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