The inside of Martha's house was huge.
I stood behind Mrs. Webber and took in the surroundings of the foyer, noticing the bright colour and look that was displayed everywhere. It had this homely feeling about it even though it looked like something out of a magazine. With marble-tiled floors, a huge black spiral staircase, and standing pillars that held up the second story, I felt as though I had walked into a celebrity's mansion. I looked down at the black work clothes that I was wearing and grimaced internally, I felt very underdressed.
I followed Marie through the archway and down the wide hallway, stopping behind Marie when we entered the next room.
Martha was standing behind the bench that faced the doorway, a black pot in one hand and a spatula in the other. She smiled brightly at us when she saw us.
"Perfect, you ladies are here." She stated. "Dinner should be ready in the next ten minutes."
"What can I do to help, Martha?" Mrs Webber asked as she walked towards the kitchen, passing the massive wooden dining table that sat in the middle of the room.
"Could, you grab some plates out of the pantry, please," Martha answered as she stood at the stove, stirring the pasta in the pot.
"Of course."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked politely. I moved away from the doorway and began walking towards where the two women were in the kitchen. They were moving around each other with ease, almost as if they had been doing it for years.
Mrs Webber looked over at me, a small smile appearing on her lips. "No, thank you, dear. I think we have it all covered. Why don't you go sit down and relax or have a wander around the house? I'll call you when it's ready if you would like?"
"Oh, okay, sure," I replied with a small smile. "I'll just look around," I motioned with a hand around the room.
I walked away from the kitchen and over to the sitting area, my eyes were drawn to the artwork that hung on the far west wall. I stopped in front of each one, my eyes examining each of the pieces, admiring and taking in their different expressions and meanings.
I moved over to the dining area and stopped dead in front of a black-framed family portrait.
A small gasp slipped between my lips, no way... I thought to myself in disbelief.
I didn't realise I had spoken aloud. Mrs Webber's lifted her head from where she was stood in the kitchen and turned around to look at me. "Are you okay, dear?" Concern filled her face.
I shrugged my shoulders unable to get a grasp on my thoughts. "Um..." I couldn't speak, I couldn't think.
Everything in my vision blurred except the picture in front of me.
My eyes stayed fixated on the photo, becoming entranced with disbelief in what I was seeing.
Because there in front of me stood an ordinary family smiling happily at the camera.
A young Martha who had her arm around her husband's waist, and two tall boys who stood on either side of the young girl who had red curly hair, bright green eyes, and a small dotted nose.
Red hair, green eyes, and a dotted nose that were almost identical to the ones on my body.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The young girl in the photo, looked exactly like I did when I was ten years old.
She looked exactly like me. I froze at the thought. What does that even mean? Who is she? I frowned in confusion.
Mrs Webber moved from the kitchen and stood beside me. She didn't say a word. She just stood there in silence, looking up at the photo that had me spooked.
I turned slowly, to look at her, my eyes meeting hers briefly before meeting Martha who was standing behind Marie with a worried look on her face. Martha switched the stove off and placed the utensils that she had in her hands down on the bench. She flattened her apron with her hands and then walked over to us swiftly.
I looked at the two older women who stood beside me and frowned in confusion. "Who is the girl with red hair?" I asked, my voice sounding brittle.
Martha looked up at the photo and a sad smile appeared on her face as she stared at the young girl who was smiling brightly. "That would be my youngest child, and my only daughter Abigail."
"Oh," I looked over at Marie, who smiled softly. "I know this may sound a little crazy, but it's almost as if I am looking into a mirror... or a mirror back when I was ten years old," I said with a nervous laugh. I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear and adjusted my posture. "How old is she here, in this photo?"
"She would have been around nine years old. Her birthday was a month just after we had the photo taken."
I shook my head and brought my eyes back up to the picture. "I have only ever a few family photos in my lifetime, and just before I turned eleven my parents and I had a family photo, it's back at Marie's house. Your daughter-"
"Abigail,"
"Your daughter Abigail and I at the age of ten could have passed as twins. It's amazing but slightly scary seeing all these similarities. I will have to show you the photo next time I see you."
Martha let out a soft chuckle. "I bet you were a well-behaved ten-year-old though. Abigail was a handful." Martha said softly, her bright brown eyes began to glisten with unshed tears. "From a young age, she got into the wrong crowd and started doing drugs and drinking heavily. My husband and I tried to prevent it, but she was a stubborn child who refused any help. At sixteen she left with her then-boyfriend at the time and she never looked back." She paused momentarily and looked towards the window. I could see that she was battling the thoughts within her head.
"I know that my two older boys tried to contact her, but like me, they had no luck. I haven't spoken to her in almost eighteen and a half years. So I have no idea where she is, or if she's even alive."
I could feel my heart tighten in empathy. Before I could even think, I reached out my hand and squeezed her arm gently.
In my own way, I knew exactly what she was feeling but in a role reversal situation. In this case, Martha was me, abandoned by her own flesh and blood. Unable to do anything to solve or prevent the situation. She was the victim.
Martha placed her hand over the one I had on her arm and squeezed back softly. "You would think that after eighteen years that I would be over it, but she's my daughter." Martha's voice began to break. She held up her head and forced a smile when Mrs Webber placed a supporting hand on her shoulder. "I have missed out on so much of her life. I would just like one chance to speak to her just one more time."
"Come on dear, how about we all have some dinner? Our pasta is probably going cold." Mrs Webber said softly, changing the heavy topic. She gave me an understanding smile and moved over to the kitchen to start serving dinner.
I looked up at the photo one more time, taking in every little inch of detail before trailing behind Martha back to the kitchen.
•••
"Are you okay dear?" Mrs Webber asked breaking the silence that had settled between us on the drive home, "You have been awfully quiet since dinner, more so than normal."
With my elbow on the door panel and my head in my hand, I dragged my eyes from the scenery of the town and looked over at Mrs Webber. "I'm fine," I answered quietly.
"Are you sure? You seemed very shocked when you saw that photo tonight." She stated softly, looking over at me briefly with concern before looking back at the road in front of her.
I nodded, "Yeah, it was just weird seeing a photo that had someone who looked a lot like me in it."
Marie hummed, "You mean, someone that could have been you?" She asked carefully. She looked over at me, meeting my gaze, and gave me a knowing look. "A family that you could have had, if you had your biological parents around still." She added softly.
I sucked in a breath and sat up in my seat, my eyes dropping to my hands in my lap. It freaked me out how she could understand what I was thinking without me stating it. "It..it's just that seeing that photo gave me a glimpse of what my life could have been like if I had parents who had kept me. When I saw that photo, I pictured myself growing up in a double-story house, with older siblings that looked after me. Two parents who would have loved me unconditionally. They would have met me and my siblings at home after school, helped us with homework, could have taken me to sports, done all those sorts of things." I could feel tears begin to well behind my eyes, I bit my lip and clenched them shut to keep them at bay. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to cry.
Mrs Webber just nodded and smiled softly, encouraging me to continue.
"But then Martha told me about her daughter and it made me wonder, do I have siblings? Are they a happy family now that I'm not around? Do my biological parents ever wonder what ever happened to me... Marie, why did my parents hate me so much that they got rid of me?"
Marie reached out her hand and placed it on the hand that was on my lap, holding it tightly and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I can't answer why your biological parents did that, but I do know that they have missed out on getting to know such a wonderful and inspiring young girl. It's their loss. Besides, I have a feeling that it worked out better for you than it did for them. They probably weren't the type of people that could have handled supporting a child, and you know what, that was their loss."
I could feel the tears begin to spill down my cheeks, I wiped away at them and pulled my knees to my chest. "I know," I mumbled, "but it would have been nice to have that normal experience just like every other normal person at my age. To have a family, experience normal family milestones."
"I understand that dear, but what is classified as normal? Today's society is very different from how it used to be and so the views on normal are too. A lot of kids don't get to experience these normal things. They don't get Christmas' because they don't have parents at home that work or they don't have Thanksgiving because they can't afford the food. There are families where parents are more interested in their own lives and work than their children's education or interests. I understand that you haven't had the most traditional upbringing, but you did have a family that loved you, didn't you?"
I nodded and sniffed quietly, "I did. They were great."
"See, my dear. Yes, you didn't have the most traditional upbringing but you got to experience some milestones with people who you loved and considered family." Marie gently pulled up at our drive and parked the car. She turned off the ignition and faced me in her seat. "You told me the other day about your Christmases, the traditions you began. See your mum and dad may not have been your biological parents, but they were your real parents. They are the ones who loved you unconditionally. They are the ones that were there for the milestones that they were able to be there for. It may not have been the 'normal' you wanted but in today's society, that is considered normal."
I licked a tear off my lip and nodded. Taking in everything that Marie had just said. I looked at her and gave her a wet smile. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course, dear."
"Could I have a hug please?" I asked hesitantly, "I could really do with one."
Marie let out a fruity laugh, her bright blue eyes glistened with unshed tears, "of course, you can, my dear." She leaned forward and enveloped me in her arms. She held me tightly as I molded myself around her.
"Thank you, for everything." I whispered, "for giving me a normal."