Maya’s dad dropped her off out front, after she had sworn numerous times that she didn’t need him to come in with her, and drove to a nearby Starbucks to wait for her. “Just text me if you need me,” he told her at least fifteen times. “I can be there in five minutes, no problem.”
Lauren stayed home. She’s already been to visit their mother three other times, but Maya hasn’t been ready. She still isn’t sure if she’s ready, even after months of family therapy and one-on-one therapy and talks with Claire and Joaquin and Grace—but it’s her mother. There’s no way to avoid seeing her ever again.
The man at the front desk leads Maya down a linoleum-tiled hallway and into what looks like a rec room. There’s a pool table and foosball table, as well as several couches and, tellingly, boxes of Kleenex.
Her mom’s sitting in a chair over in the far corner of the room, and her face lights up when she sees Maya. She’s gained weight, Maya thinks with a start. Her cheeks have filled out a little bit, and her hair looks darker and longer. She looks, Maya realizes, healthy. It’s been a long time since her mom has looked that way.
“Sweetie,” her mom says. She stands and reaches out for her, but Maya takes a step back. She’s not ready for a hug yet. It’s been three months, but she’s still angry, still resentful. Her therapist said that it would take time, and Maya decided to believe her.
“You’re so tall!” her mom says instead, clasping Maya’s hands in hers. “Did you grow? You look so big to me, Mysie.”
“Mom, seriously? You’re making it sound like it’s been years since you saw me.”
Her mom’s face doesn’t change, though. “I can’t believe you’re almost sixteen.”
“Believe it,” Maya says, blushing.
“Lauren told me a few things,” her mom says. “You and Claire are back together?”
Maya nods. “Three months now. I really love her, Mom.”
“Well, I think that’s wonderful, honey. I’m so happy for you. And for Claire, too, of course.”
“Do you want to sit?” Maya asks her. “There’s, like, a thousand couches in here.”
They choose a couch near the back of the room, sitting next to each other. The silence is awkward, and they both know it. It’s been a long time since they’ve talked to each other, even before rehab.
“So I want you to know—” her mom starts to say.
“So you should know—” Maya begins, and then they’re laughing. “You first,” she says. “Go ahead.”
“Okay. Well, then, I just wanted you to know . . .” Her mom’s voice breaks a little, and she glances down briefly at her lap before looking Maya right in the eye. “I want you to know that I am very, very sorry for all the things that I’ve put you and our family through. You and Lauren, you were my secret keepers, and I want you to know that it’s not going to be like that anymore. I’ve done a lot of work in here, I’ve made a lot of changes, and I’m ready to come home and make things right.”
Maya nods as her eyes well up. She’s fairly certain that there isn’t a family in the world that cries as much as hers. “I know,” she says. “It’s okay.”
“No, sweetie, it’s not.” Her mom leans forward and puts her hands on Maya’s shoulders. “It’s not okay, but we’re going to try and make it better, Dad and me. I want you and Lauren to have that. I don’t want”—her mom’s voice wavers again—“I don’t want you to look back and remember me like I used to be. I want you to be proud of me.”
Maya nods again, too overwhelmed to speak at first. “I am proud of you, Mom,” she finally says. “You’ve worked so hard, you really have.”
“Okay, enough about me,” she says, laughing as she pats her cheeks dry with her hands. “What were you going to say?”
Maya takes a breath, steadies her nerves. She wants to get it right because there won’t be a second chance to say it.
“I haven’t talked to Dad about this at all,” Maya says. “Or Lauren. I wanted to tell you first. But a couple of months ago, I went with Joaquin and Grace to visit our birth mother.”
The color drains from her mom’s face as her hand comes up to cover her mouth.
Maya forges ahead anyway.
“I found an envelope a long time ago in your safe, so we went to the address that was on it,” she said. “And she—Melissa—she died a long time ago. A car accident.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Maya’s mom is holding her hands so tight that Maya can feel her wedding ring branding itself into her skin. “Oh, sweetie, oh no.”
“No, no, it’s okay,” Maya says quickly. “I’m not— I mean, yes, I’m sad about it, but she has a sister, Jessica, and she’s really nice. And there are pictures. And I just . . .” Maya can feel her mouth quivering. She hates it. It makes her feel like everything, including her own body, is out of her control.
“I just wanted to tell you first,” she says, and now her voice is quivering, too. “Because you’re my mom, okay? You are. You’re my mom. And I love Melissa because she had me, but I love you because you raised me, and I just wanted you to know that even though I’m still really mad at you, you can screw up a million times and I’ll still love you, no matter what. Just like you love me, no matter what. Right?”
Her mom is crying silently now, rivers of tears running down her face as she nods. “Yes, sweetie,” she says.
“So . . . when are you coming home?” Maya asks, hanging on tight to her mom’s hand, like she could levitate and float away.
“Soon,” her mom whispers back. “I’ll be home soon, I promise.”
“Home with us,” Maya murmurs, and then smiles a little to herself. “Where you belong.”
JOAQUIN
The adoption party ends up becoming a combination adoption–eighteenth birthday party.
Joaquin doesn’t mind one bit.
At the courthouse this morning, it was just the three of them, plus a photographer who Linda hired for the day. Joaquin wore a new suit that made him feel like an adult, and a tie that matched Mark’s. Linda wore a dress in the same colors as the ties, and the three of them looked at themselves in the mirror before leaving the house.
“We,” Joaquin declared, “look like huge dorks.”
Mark just laughed. “Too bad for you, kiddo,” he said. “Because in an hour, you’re going to be related to us. There’s no turning back now.”
Joaquin thought that sounded like a pretty fair deal.
Linda cried during the brief ceremony, and Mark got teary but later swore it was allergies. Joaquin still wasn’t sure it would actually happen, that a lightning bolt wouldn’t strike the courthouse, but the skies were blue and nothing went wrong and then the judge was saying, “Congratulations, young man,” and the photographer took all their pictures together, and Joaquin’s face hurt for the rest of the afternoon because he was smiling so much.