Natalie tried to ignore her discomfort as she tucked her phone back inside her purse and made her way to the front door. Her mother opened it before Natalie had a chance to knock. “Hi, honey,” her mom said. Her face was pale and her expression pinched, and Natalie knew her mother wouldn’t have slept tonight if Natalie didn’t tell her how things had gone with Jennifer.
“Hey, Mom,” Natalie said as she entered the house. She hugged her mother and held on a moment longer than she usually would. When she pulled back, she took off her coat, set her purse on the entryway table, and looked around. “Where’s Dad?”
“In his study,” her mother said. But as she spoke, Natalie’s father appeared in the long hallway and walked toward them.
“Hello, Nat,” he said in his usual low, resonant tone. Natalie greeted him with a hug, too.
“Let’s go sit in the living room,” her mom suggested. “Can I get you anything?”
“A shot of vodka?” Natalie said as they all made their way to the other room. She was only half-joking. The soothing balm of alcohol might be just what she needed.
“Oh,” her mom said. “Okay . . .”
Natalie put her hand on her mother’s arm. “I was kidding, Mom. I’m fine.”
“I just finished a glass of wine,” her mother said. “Would you like one?”
“No, thanks,” Natalie said, deciding that a drink wasn’t what she needed after all. “I can’t stay too long.”
The three of them sat down on the large sectional, and her parents stared at her, waiting for Natalie to begin. “So,” she said. “Brooke and I went to Jennifer’s house tonight, but she wasn’t home from work when we got there. Her husband, Evan, invited us in to wait.”
“Is he . . . was he your biological father?” Natalie’s father asked.
“No,” Natalie said. “He’s someone she met later.” She paused. “He seems to really love her.”
“That’s good,” her mother said as she drew a large pillow into her lap. Her fingers worked at straightening its messy blue fringe. “How was your . . .” She stopped and then started again. “How was Jennifer?”
Natalie wondered how best to explain the way her birth mother had reacted to seeing her daughters, then decided that a succinct description of the afternoon’s events was the best route to take. “She was shocked, of course, and more than a little upset. Part of me wishes we hadn’t sprung ourselves on her like that.” Her parents were silent, their eyes glued to Natalie, waiting for her to go on. “Her husband helped calm her down, though, and we were able to ask her some questions.”
“What did you ask?” Natalie’s mother said, keeping her voice low, as though she wasn’t sure she really wanted Natalie to answer.
Natalie went on to describe the brief conversation, and everything Jennifer had said about loving them when they were babies and wanting nothing but the best life for both of her daughters, knowing that with how screwed up she was, she couldn’t give that to them. Her parents listened intently, their spines held straight and their heads high as they waited for the one thing from Natalie she knew they really wanted to hear—now that she had met her birth mother, what would happen next?
“She doesn’t want a relationship with us,” she told them. “She seemed pretty fragile, actually. I don’t think she could handle it. She said it took a lot for her to get over the shame she felt about giving us up, all the mistakes she made, and I guess seeing us now . . . the thought of getting to know us better, or having us in her life at all, was too much for her.” The buzzing sensation in her chest grew more intense, and Natalie’s eyes grew wet. “Brooke had a harder time hearing this than I did, I think. But still, it was hard.”
“Of course it was,” her dad said. His tone was solemn, and his words were sincere.
Natalie shrugged, trying to appear more detached than she felt. “It’s probably for the best,” she said. “But I’m glad I at least got to meet her. I feel like I understand why she did what she did now, and how it affected her, too, so that’s good. I got some closure.” She looked at her mother, who hadn’t yet spoken in response to hearing that Natalie wouldn’t have any kind of ongoing relationship with Jennifer. “See, Mom?” she said, powerless to keep the quiver from her voice. “You don’t have to worry. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
Her mother’s expression melted from its frozen state into one of compassion. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said. “I’m so sorry.” She got up and came to sit next to Natalie. “She has no idea what’s she missing.”
There was so much love in those words, so much truth in her mother’s eyes, Natalie’s grief rose up from roots so deep she hadn’t known they were there. No matter the rationale behind it, no matter how much it made sense, the weight of Jennifer’s blatant rejection finally hit her, and she began to cry. Hot tears and jagged sobs racked her body until her mother—the only true mother she’d ever had—held her tight, and Natalie knew that she’d never let her go.
Brooke