Giselle took a few notes, eyebrows raised. “What’s behind this door?” she asked.
“Over here is the laundry room and over there is another bathroom. Gregory’s studio is at the very back.”
She wanted to see everything, opening every cupboard. The cleaning products were all out of reach and the studio was protected by a latch set high on the door. Her interest started to wane. She stifled a yawn as she retraced her steps.
I politely helped her with her coat, following the movement of her shoulders. She pulled on her fake fur boots and promised she would contact us during the week to follow up.
She shook my hand limply and I closed the door. A gust of wind blew into the house as Giselle left. Still holding the doorknob, I turned and sighed at Gregory, sprawled on the couch. The house was calm again, and dusk was falling, casting a shadow like a blanket. I absently twisted my wedding ring on my finger, thinking back on the answers I’d given. Better replies were coming to me now that it was too late.
Gregory still said nothing, but patted his thighs to attract Jules as he crossed the living room.
“Honestly, you’d get rid of him just like that?”
But Giselle didn’t get back to us during the week, like she’d said she would. I was sure we’d failed the interview. When she called me directly at the office three weeks later, I expected to have my worst fears confirmed.
“Emma, I have very good news,” she said. “We’ve found an adoption candidate.”
A hot wave spread through my stomach.
“In fact,” she continued after a pause, “we’ve found two! Emma, a Saint Petersburg orphanage has a set of twins up for international adoption. They just confirmed it today.”
I couldn’t believe it. We’d done it. We were going to be parents. And it was Russia. The agency also had connections in China and South Africa, but we’d stated our preference. We were going to have everything we wanted. And twins! I started to shake. I caught my breath and dialed Gregory’s number, even though his office was just on the other side of the wall.
When he opened the door a few seconds later, the glass door sprang on its hinges. I stood up suddenly, too fast, and my eyes went blurry; I had to steady myself on my drawing table to get my balance.
“Two babies. Do you know how lucky we are? Twins! Twins!” That’s all I could say.
Gregory was also caught up in the details. “Are they identical?” he asked.
“I didn’t know; she didn’t say.”
“What do we have to do now?” asked Gregory quickly, seized by doubt.
“We have to go sign the papers, tonight if possible.”
“Let’s go—right now!”
We left the office that minute. Our family name was spelled out in capital letters on the door that closed behind us.
Giselle passed me the photo of the boys with a measured hand. The black-and-white portraits were taken head-on. A number had been hand-written on the bottom border. The lighting was strange; their faces were overexposed compared with the completely black background, giving their features a reform-school look. I turned the images lovingly toward Gregory.
“They’re magnificent.”
They had thin faces with fleshy mouths, and their shaved hair was very blond. They didn’t smile, focusing sternly on the camera. An uncanny resemblance united them. It was like I was touching them for the first time. I caressed the glossy paper with my fingertips.
“My babies…”
My shoulders started to shake. Could it possibly work this time? I started to sob and Gregory took me in his arms. With my nose in his shirt, I calmed down, just breathing him in. The fabric was soft and warm, and underneath it, his chest beat forcefully. I was going to be a mother.
Giselle resumed her explanation. “They’re fifteen months. They’ve just arrived at the orphanage. You’re first on the list, but you have to move fast.”
She paused. I got the feeling she wasn’t finished.
“There are still a number of papers to sign, and you’ll need a visa to enter the country, but we’ll expect you to be in Russia before the weekend.”
It was happening so fast. I thought of work, of maternity leave, of the clients we’d have to notify at the last minute, of the upheaval this would create at the office, of packing, of the house that wasn’t ready.
“The circumstances of this adoption are unique,” Giselle stressed. We couldn’t go as a group, like it was usually done. We had to go alone. The timelines were too tight. The agency couldn’t even free up a staff member to accompany us. “Will you be able to manage?” she asked.
We were ready to make every promise, to agree to everything required. We signed the papers hastily, already in a celebratory mood.
We arrived in Russia, exhausted before we had even begun the adoption. We’d rushed our preparations: I’d handed off my files to a colleague, tried to ready the house, and thrown some things in a bag. We’d bought our plane tickets at the last minute, which cost a fortune.
Despite the fatigue, I hadn’t managed to sleep on the plane, and only relaxed as we were about to land. I staggered off the plane holding Gregory’s arm. My body demanded a real night’s sleep. I wasn’t used to travelling in these conditions. It was unbearable.
Getting through customs took an eternity. I was too hot in my Isabel Marant down jacket and I was worried about the bags we hadn’t picked up yet; if we took too long, they could get lost or stolen. After we repeatedly explained the nature of our trip, one customs officer finally understood and called to a second, who led us into an isolated room to prolong the interrogation. They made us wait a long time. Gregory dozed off, one elbow on the table. My eyes itched and my mouth was dry.
The room was in terrible shape. The floor tiles were encrusted with dirt
