“Willie! Come out, come out!”
Willie popped out from behind a tree with his arms wide. “Taa-daa!”
Kate wasn’t sure she’d ever felt such relief in her life. If something happened to these boys, she didn’t think she could live with herself.
She jumped over a large puddle in the bottom of the drained-out pond.
“Steven!”
“I here.”
“Let me see you.”
Willie reached behind the tree and pulled his brother out. Their hands were muddy, as were the knees of their jeans. She rushed up to them, pulling them in close for a hug.
“Boys! You can’t run away from me like that.”
“Sorrryyy.”
“You scared me.”
Willie’s lip started to tremble.
“Oh no, don’t cry.”
“We wanted to see the ducks. But they not here.”
“They’ve flown away for winter. Next time, ask me first.”
“We will.”
Kate hugged them again. They smelled as if they’d been rolling around in the bottom of a bog. Andrea was going to be pissed. But they were okay. And with some luck, she’d convince them to keep this escape to themselves.
“How about lunch?”
“Yeah!”
INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT
TJ: Perhaps we could circle back to how people found out about you later. Why don’t you tell me what it was like when you met your mother for the first time?
FM: It’s hard to describe. I’d dreamed about her my whole life, you know? Wondering things like, do I bite my nails because of her, or . . . You know that song from Annie? “Maybe”?
TJ: I’m not familiar with it.
FM: She’s an orphan, right? Only, she doesn’t think she’s an orphan, she thinks her parents will be back for her. And she sings this song where she imagines where they are, what they’re doing. Maybe they’re in a house nearby, hidden by a hill. Or maybe he’s reading a book while she’s playing the piano. Simple things. You get the idea. She imagines them perfect, their one mistake being that they gave her up. Anyway, that’s what I felt like my whole childhood was like, and then we met.
TJ: So you found the record of your birth, and then what?
FM: Once I realized she’d changed her name when she’d gotten married, I was able to track her down at the company where she worked. There was a picture of her on the website, and I knew right away it was her. Her e-mail wasn’t listed, but I figured it out by using all these different combinations. It wasn’t that hard. I think I got it right on, like, the third try.
TJ: What did you write to her?
FM: It was basically, if you gave a daughter up for adoption twenty-two years ago, I’m her, and I’d love to meet you. I included the picture I had from when I was a baby, because I thought she might recognize that more than me as a grown-up. Because we don’t look much alike, except I think I have her eyes. That’s why I recognized her in the photo on her work site. I take more after my dad, she told me.
TJ: That must’ve been a nerve-racking e-mail to send.
FM: Yeah, it was. I spent a week writing it and rewriting it. And then right after I sent it, I realized there was a typo. I’d spelled “adoption” “option.” [Laughter] Like she’d optioned me for film or something. I felt kind of stupid.
TJ: I’m sure she wasn’t focusing on that.
FM: You’re probably right. She never mentioned it.
TJ: Did she answer you right away?
FM: It took a couple days. I don’t think I slept, waiting for that answer. I was working at the diner, and I think I dropped, like, five plates every day because I couldn’t concentrate. I got this talking-to from my boss and everything. But then she wrote me back, and she was super-apologetic about how long she’d taken. She needed time to process, you know? She’d tucked me away, she said, into this place in her heart where she didn’t let herself go. And she thought, I’m not sure why, but she thought that when I turned eighteen I’d come looking for her, and when I didn’t, she assumed I wouldn’t ever do it. And she kind of mourned that and then put it all away again. So I was a shock.
TJ: Had she ever looked for you?
FM: She said she hadn’t.
TJ: Did she say why not?
FM: She felt like it wasn’t her place. She’d given me up. She made this decision about my life that she thought was the best decision at the time, but since she’d done that, she didn’t think it was right to choose for me again. To interfere with my life. She hoped I was happy and healthy. I think she had to convince herself that I was in a good place, you know, to live with the guilt, and so if she went looking for me and found me, she might be bringing up all kinds of things she shouldn’t. Like, what if my parents hadn’t even told me I was adopted? Or what if I hated her? Or what if my life sucked? So many what-ifs.
TJ: Did she write all that to you in her first e-mail?
FM: Some of it. It was long. A real emotional punch in the gut in so many ways. And before you ask, no, you can’t see it. That’s private between her and me.
TJ: I understand. And then you met?
FM: Not right away. We e-mailed for a while, getting to know each other. It was kind of like dating in a way . . . I know that sounds weird.
TJ: It’s okay; I get it.
FM: Do you? You have a strange job, don’t you?
TJ: How so?
FM: Your whole life is about other people’s stories.
TJ: I hadn’t thought about it like that. Anyway, we’re here to talk about you, not me. Let’s get back to it, shall we?
FM: Sure.
TJ: You mentioned before that she hadn’t told her husband and children about you. Did she do so once you’d made contact?
FM: She said she
