“But maybe—”
“No!” both girls cried this time, and Joaquin laughed, clear and sharp in the cooling air, the sound echoing back in his ears and filling him up.
GRACE
Grace nervously bounced her leg in the waiting room of the therapist’s office. There was a half-done puzzle on the table in front of her, but she had no interest in fitting the rest of the pieces together. She just wanted to get this over with and get the hell out of there.
Next to her, Grace’s mom leaned over and gently pressed down on Grace’s knee with her hand.
Grace started bouncing her other leg instead.
She had been dreading this appointment for the better part of a week. She knew she was going to have to talk about Peach, talk about her biological mom, her siblings—basically everything that had blown up in her life over the past few months was about to be fair game to a stranger, and all Grace wanted to do was circle the wagons and head back home to the safety of her bedroom and her loneliness. Her only consolation was that at least her parents looked as ill at ease as she felt.
Grace wished that Rafe were there with her. If nothing else, at least he could make her laugh.
By the time they got into the office, Grace thought she might throw up. How does Joaquin do this every week? she wondered, and then she thought of the last time she’d seen Joaquin and felt sad all over again. After he had told her and Maya everything, Grace had started to drive herself home, then pulled the car over halfway there so she could cry. More than anything, she wished she had known Joaquin back then, wished she had known him her whole life so that he would have been a little less lost. She thought of Alice again, tossed in the bottle and riding through the storm on the ocean.
The therapist’s name was Michael, and he seemed nice enough. His tie was in a perfect Windsor knot, which Grace had only seen in pictures on the internet, and that made her trust him a little bit more.
Just a little bit.
“So, Grace,” Michael said as soon as they were seated, “your parents told me some things about you when they first called to make this appointment. Sounds like you’ve had quite a year.”
Grace raised an eyebrow. “I shoved a baby out of me, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Grace’s mother covered her eyes with her hands and groaned.
“What?” Grace said, annoyed. “You were there, Mom. That’s basically what happened.”
Michael, to his credit, seemed pretty unfazed. Grace liked him a little bit more. “And your parents mentioned that you put the baby up for adoption, correct?”
Grace nodded. “With Daniel and Catalina, yeah. They’re really good parents.”
“And you’re okay with that decision?”
Grace shrugged. “I mean, it’s a done deal, right? It’s not like I could get her back if I wanted to.”
“So you would like to have her back?”
“That’s not . . .” Grace took a deep breath, forced herself to keep her hands in her lap. “I miss P— Milly very much. Of course I do. I carried her for almost ten months. But she’s in a much better home, a better family for her. I did the right thing. My parents agree.”
“Your mom also mentioned that you recently spent time with a boy, and when they tried to discuss that with you, you got a little upset.”
“She tried to tear the roof off the house,” Grace’s dad clarified, but he sounded like he was trying to make a joke.
Grace wasn’t laughing.
“I got mad,” she said, shooting a look at her dad, “because Elaine from down the street called them to tell them that I had lunch with a boy, like it was a freaking crime or something.”
“Grace,” her mom said, “we weren’t upset. We’re just worried about you. You seem so . . . you’re not yourself, sweetheart.”
“Of course I’m not myself!” Grace cried. “I had a baby and then gave her away! I don’t even recognize who I am anymore! You act like I’m just going to go back to high school and go to dances and prom and everything, but none of that has happened. I can’t even go to the mall without people whispering about me, calling me a slut! You want a daughter back who doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Sweetheart, we know how much Max hurt you,” her dad started to say, but Grace turned in her seat, her hand out.
“Do not say his name,” she said. “Do not even say it. I hate him.”
“We just don’t want you to get hurt the same way again,” her mom said. “We just think you need more time to heal.”
“You don’t get it!” Grace cried. “I’m not going to heal from this! You keep acting like I’m going to explode at any moment, and if you don’t say anything long enough, that I’ll forget about my baby”—the word got caught in her throat and she had to almost spit it out to get it out of her—“and it’ll all be fine! That’s what you always do! You pretend like something didn’t happen, and then eventually, it’s like no one remembers that it did happen. You did the same thing with me!”
The silence after Grace’s outburst felt especially loud. “What do you mean, Grace?” Michael asked. Grace had almost forgotten that the therapist was even in the room. She wondered if he was regretting agreeing to meet with them in the first place.
“It’s like . . .” She tried to find the words that would sum up her feelings. “Like they said that if I ever wanted to know about my adoption, that all I had to do was ask them. But why was that my responsibility? Why did I have to be the one who asked? Why couldn’t they be the ones to tell me about it?”
Grace’s mom had tears in her eyes. “We just didn’t want to give you too much information.”
“No!” Grace cried. “You thought that if I knew about my biological mom, I would try to find her, and that scared the shit out of you.”
“Why do you keep those photos of Milly hidden?” her mom suddenly asked her.
“What?” Grace said. “How did you see those?”
“In your desk drawer,” she said. “I was putting back some of your pens that I found in my car and I saw them.” Her mom’s eyes filled with tears as she added, “Why are you hiding them from us? I know you miss your daughter, Gracie, but we miss our granddaughter and our daughter. We only wish you’d talk to us.”
Grace’s dad was nodding his head.
Grace felt the tears slip down her cheeks and she quickly slapped them away. “Why is it always on me to talk to you?” she asked. “Why can’t you talk to me?”