Dear Emily (Forever Family) (2 page)

He rolls off of me, and I immediately slip into blackness.

Spring Lake, New Jersey

Present

Age 29

Dear Emily,

How do I start a letter to a child I have yet to meet?

A child that has always been in our hearts?

A child that is meant for our family?

Your Daddy and I cannot wait for the moment we are able to hold you in our arms for the first time. To lay our eyes on your perfect face, eyes, toes. To breathe in the essence of a new baby, swirling scents of powder and linen.

We cannot wait to feel your beating heart against our chests and to listen to your slow and steady breaths. To hear your soft baby noises. To soothe your crying.

We have always dreamed of you, Emily. We’ve dreamed that someday our family would be blessed with a child. We are so close. Our new family is within reach.

We are here hoping, waiting, praying.

Love and kisses,

Momma

My eyes glisten with tears as I scrawl my signature at the bottom of the letter, touch my fingers to my lips, press them onto her name, and close my journal. I look over to my left where Kyle is softly snoring, sleeping soundly. I mouth the words ‘I love you’ to him, touch his back lightly, put my journal in my night table drawer, and turn out the soft light by my bedside. I curl my body into his, tuck my head into his chest, and hold on tight.

I love this man with all that I am, and I love the father that he is going to be.

My heart is full of hope.

I’ve been writing to Emily since the day we found out. The day we received ‘The Call’ from the adoption agency. I smile and squeeze Kyle tighter as I remember that day with excitement.

It’s the beginning of August, and I am in the teacher’s lounge. I am an English teacher at Spring Lake High and I’ve been preparing my classroom for the first day of school. My cell phone starts to ring. I see the familiar number from Florida and swallow my iced tea down hard. Nearly choking, I fumble for my cell and answer.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Carly, this is Anna from Home Sweet Home Adoptions. Do you have a minute?”

“Of course,” I sputter. My heart is racing. I just know this is the call we have been waiting for. My palms are sweating so much that I almost drop my phone onto my BLT. Crumbs fall into my lap.

Anna continues. “Is Kyle at work? Can I conference him on the line with us?”

“Yes! No!” I’m practically yelling at her. “No, I mean. He’s not at work; he’s off today. Yes, please try his cell phone.” I give her Kyle’s number, so thankful that the University is closed for summer break. As the head Professor of Mathematics at Tremont University, he is enjoying some much-deserved time off.

The time it takes Anna to conference in Kyle seems endless. I’m rubbing my other hand nervously along my left thigh, so hard that the crumbs on my lap are now ground into my sweaty palm.

I hear the line click back, and Anna asks, “Kyle, Carly, are you both there?”

“Yes!” I yell into the phone. Why am I still yelling?

“Guys, I have such great news for you. You’ve been selected by a birth mother! Grab a pen and paper and get ready to take notes because you aren’t going to remember everything I say and you are certainly going to have questions. I’ll give you both a minute.”

I start scrambling for a pen, find one, and then flip over my placemat to scribble on the back of it. Damn, no ink in this pen. Kyle speaks up. “Hey Car, can you take notes? I’m on the golf course, and the only paper I have is my scorecard.” I’m swiping at the table trying to grab the pencil that rolled away when I was eating.

“OK, I’m back.” I pant breathlessly into the phone.

Anna begins. “Great. As I mentioned before, a birth mother, Tabitha, has selected you. She’s having a baby girl. Tabitha has chosen the name Emily already. While this isn’t customary, she wanted you to know. Tabitha is twenty-one years old and is unable to give her baby the life she deserves. She immediately connected with your profile because of your academic background and careers. She also loves that Kyle is a musician. The birth father is listed as ‘unknown’ since she is uncertain at this time. She is currently in a relationship with Seth, who is one of the potential birth fathers. He is fully supportive of the adoption, and is willing to sign away his parental rights, as well. As required by law, we’ve posted notices in her home state addressing the other possible birth father. If he does not come forward to claim the child, then the courts will terminate his rights. I realize this may be concerning to you, but I assure you that it’s a common practice. In addition, we don’t typically request paternity tests because it’s considered invasive. Since Tabitha is only twenty-one, it is not routine for amniotic tests to be conducted at her age.”

I trust what Anna is telling us about the legal requirements that they must meet, and I move onto feeling my excitement. She chose us, out of how many other potential families.

Kyle taught himself to play guitar about five years ago, and suddenly I’m squealing with delight in my head, thanking the guitar Gods. All of that bad tuning and noise that I suffered through for those months as he taught himself was worth it! It matters! Bad tuning and screeching guitar noises in my head aside.

Anna continues. “Tabitha did not make this decision very easily, and she is still wavering a little bit. But she wanted me to contact you because she wants to know if you will say yes. But before you say anything, let me tell you what we know about her social and medical history.”

I’m scribbling down on my placemat, and my pencil is tearing into the paper. The only words I’ve written so far are:

Tabitha

Seth - possible father?

I’m useless.

“OK.” Anna goes on. “Tabitha has a diverse background. This baby will have Irish, Italian, German, and English heritage. Tabitha has a history of cancer and depression on her mother’s side of the family and heart disease on her father’s side. She is also currently being treated for depression and has been taking antidepressants during this pregnancy. She has not consumed any alcoholic beverages and has been taking pre-natal vitamins since she found out she was pregnant.”

I look down at the placemat and see that I’ve scrawled:

Irish!

Depression

No Booze

Again, I’m useless. I’m certain that this will make no sense to us later.

“So, are you both comfortable so far? It seems that there really aren’t any red flags, and this matches your adoptive family planning questionnaire pretty closely.”

I can’t speak because I’m now just drawing hearts all over the placemat. Kyle speaks up. “Wow, this is a lot to digest. She picked us? Are you sure? Wow.”

I can hear Kyle’s voice breaking, and I know he’s about to cry. Or at least that’s what it sounds like. I start to sob and jump in. “This sounds perfect, Anna, just perfect.”

The call continues with discussion of financial details, match agreements, doctors’ appointments, and conference calls to be scheduled. I’m still scribbling nonsense on the placemat when Anna says, “OK, so you’ll receive a Fed Ex package tomorrow morning containing all of the papers that you will need to sign. Have everything notarized and returned to us within 48 hours. Tabitha and Seth would like to set up a conference call for some time next month, and they’d like Carly to be at Tabitha’s next ultrasound.”

“Yes,” Kyle and I say simultaneously. I start laughing. “Yes, yes, this is perfect.” Then I start to cry. I’m happy crying. I love happy crying, and I’m doing it at this moment. Kyle jumps in. “It’s OK Car. Calm down. Breathe. Anna, we are good.”

I manage to say goodbye to Anna and hang up my phone. It immediately starts ringing and vibrating, almost falling to the floor. It’s Kyle.

“Hi,” I say smiling through the tears streaming down my face. Then I say, “Oh my God, honey, it’s happening!”

Kyle takes a deep breath and says, “I’m on my way home. When can you get there?”

I realize that I still have several things left on my to-do list. Oh my God! There is no way that I’m going to be able to concentrate on anything.

“I’m leaving right now!” I swipe my BLT into the trash, crumple the placemat into a ball, and stuff it and the now-broken pencil into my purse.

“Hey, Car?”

“Yeah,” I reply as I start to run out of the lounge.

“I love you,” he says softly.

The happy tears are back.

“I love you too.”

I smile as I snuggle into Kyle’s side. That day was perfect, and the feelings come rushing back to me. Tears start to pool in my eyes, and I place my head on Kyle’s chest.

I fall asleep listening to the soft beat of Kyle’s strong heart.

New Brunswick, New Jersey

Past

Age 17

BANG BANG

BANG BANG BANG BANG

What the fuck? It’s dark in my room. What time is it?

BANG BANG BANG

Sweet motherfuck.

“C’mon Car. Open up! We know you’re in there!” Becca and Callie whine in unison.

“Ugh! Hold on!” I yell from my bed. I reach over to turn on my lamp, stretch, and sit up. My clock says nine o’clock. At night. Geez, I’ve been asleep for three hours. I feel like shit.

I’m still in my clothes from class five hours earlier. I’m wearing comfy jeans, a long sleeved tight fitting Henley shirt, and flip-flops. I will wear flip-flops until the first snowfall. It truly doesn’t matter how cold or hard the ground is. Flip-flops rock.

I stumble my way over to the door, unlock it, and turn away as they barge in. They aren’t alone. Manny is with them too. Manny is hot, proud, and out. He’s a gorgeous specimen of a gay man all six foot three, one hundred and ninety pounds of him. He’s dreamy and knows it. He owns it. That’s what I love about him.

The first time we all met Manny, he was singing Lionel Ritchie in the shower stall next to us.

In the girls’ bathroom.

On an all-girls’ floor.

He walked out of the shower stall wearing a towel hanging low on his hips. Our jaws collectively dropped as we stared at his perfect abs while he said, “Ladies, nice to meet you. Shower 4 is now mine. Too much hair and stench downstairs on the ninth floor. Nice to meet you, chicks.” He beamed his flawless smile and winked at us.

He’s been part of our entourage ever since.

Manny storms past me, slams a large brown paper bag onto my desk, flops onto Ginger’s bed, and declares, “God, this bed smells stale!” He’s practically gagging.

Next Becca walks in. Becca is gorgeous. Like model gorgeous. She’s about as tall as I am at five foot nine inches. But her looks are exotic. Dark olive skin, long dark shiny black hair, and black eyes like onyx. She was the first person that I met during freshman orientation, and we hit it off immediately. We discovered during several deep and very drunken conversations that we both have the same dream when we are sick with a fever. Yes, there is such a thing as a fever dream. It’s psychedelic and a mind fuck. Trust me. And she and I dream the same fever dream. Therefore, we are meant to be best friends forever. Fever sisters.

Callie is right behind Becca and skips into the room. She is a surfer girl. Blonde, tan, and beautiful. She grew up at the beach and looks as if she spends every day there still. She’s wearing her short jean shorts and tank top. What makes this an odd choice in clothing is that it’s November in New Jersey. Not surfer girl weather, and certainly not tank and shorts weather.

I met Callie exactly ten minutes after meeting Becca at orientation when she came in late, skipped into the room, and plopped down at our table. She grinned ear to ear while she squeezed a pink Koosh ball in her hand and started talking over the RA. She said in her not-so-quiet stage whisper pointing to Becca and me, “This will do – I like you two already! You are both my kind of people. Let’s get out of here. Who needs to hear about all of this stuff anyway. It’s in the handbook. Let’s go get drunk – I have vodka, Everclear, and grape juice.” She proclaimed that she’s going to be a nurse and winked at us. Is this supposed to mean that I should trust her with whatever drink she is going to concoct? She won’t let anything mixed with Everclear kill us, will she? With that, she tossed her Koosh ball at the RA, grabbed our hands, and dragged us out of the common room while laughing and skipping. I knew that Callie and I would be forever friends when she held my hair while I puked in the boys’ bathroom later that night. Yes, when a friend holds your hair back and can stand the sound of you retching in a smelly, disgusting bathroom, she’s a keeper no doubt.

As all three of them barge into my room, I know that I am going to have to start talking. You see, since
that
night a few weeks ago, I’ve been aloof. I’ve come up with every excuse in the book to avoid talking about Todd. They know that I left the Halloween party with him that night and that’s all they know. I haven’t been able to speak about it with anyone. I have pretend conversations with my sisters while staring at my family’s happy picture. They don’t judge me during these fictitious conversations; they just nod and offer their shoulders. Pretend conversations aren’t cathartic. I still feel like shit. I’ve completely withdrawn from them, and they have noticed. Damn.

Manny gets up with a nauseated look on his face, and I know that he won’t be sitting on Ginger’s bed again. I begin to arrange my pillows to make more room next to me. He opens the paper bag and pulls out a gallon of pink wine. Don’t judge. We are freshman. It’s cheap, and it’s pink.

“It’s Wednesday, Carly,” Manny says too chipper for my ears at the moment. “Wine Wednesday!”

“What?” I sputter not prepared for any conversation.

“It’s Wine Wednesday. I’m inducting the four of us into this exclusive club. Every Wednesday, Carly’s room, nine o’clock. Wine Wednesday.” With that, he twists the top off the jug and pours the pink wine into four waiting red Solo cups. He passes them out and nods to all of us.

“A toast. To the Wine Wednesday Club. Where everything we talk about stays in this room. Our conversations are forever in the vault. We agree to listen and not to judge. I love you girls. Now drink to seal the pact.”

We all lift our cups. I take a sniff. Wow, it smells sweet! I take a sip, and it is as sweet as it is tart. This is what my grandmother drinks and now I’m drinking it. I feel so cultured!

The room gets quiet, and they all turn to stare at me.

Manny continues, “Car, now that we have our pact… Treaty… Whatever you want to call it. We need to talk. What is going on with you? You haven’t gone out to ANY parties since Halloween, and you mope around here all day like your puppy died. Talk. Now.”

Becca and Callie’s eyes are soft, and Callie’s start to glisten as if she’s about to cry. Becca tries to maintain eye contact with me, but she can’t. She chokes on her sip of wine and turns away swiping at her eyes.

I lose control of my body at this point and start shaking. First, at the shoulders, then my arms, and finally, the rest of my body. I’m about to collapse. Tears aren’t yet falling, but I open my mouth in a silent cry. Becca and Callie immediately swarm to either side of me, each grabbing an arm to support my weight, and walk me over to sit on the edge of my bed.

We sit silently on the bed as Manny stands in front of us with his arms folded across his broad chest. They allow my emotions to build, and I finally let out a wail. The sobbing moves my entire body and I’m now curled up in a fetal position with Callie smoothing my hair and Becca holding my wrists, kneeling on the floor in front of me, her nose practically touching mine. I’m sure she can feel my tears on her face as they roll off my cheeks onto hers.

Manny allows us about ten minutes of this and then grabs all of our drinks and hands them back out.

“The only way this is going to work, Car, is if you talk. So talk,” he says.

Callie chimes in. “Honey, whatever you have to say, we are here for you. Please.”

Becca’s eyes are puffy and red; they’re pleading with me. She looks at me and silently nods.

I can’t draw this out any longer. I chug the pink wine and then I just blurt it out.

“I was raped on Halloween.”

In unison, the three of them suck in their breath and with that most of the air from the room. I don’t quite think this was what they expected to hear. Manny’s eyes are so wide I can see the bright blue and a large rim of white. His jaw is clenching, and I can see his cheeks pulse with fury. His hands are in fists, and his knuckles are white. Becca is shaking her head and repeating the word ‘no’. Callie crawls over to me and wraps her arms around me from behind. She softly whispers into my ear, “It’s OK honey. I know, I know, I know.” She knows? I look at her, and she just shakes her head softly at me and puts her hand on my cheek. “We are here for you. Tell us what happened Car.”

I tell them everything. Everything up to and including the rape. Everything up until I blacked out. Every. Thing. I’m physically drained and exhausted. When I have no more tears to cry, my friends cry them for me.

Manny is the first to say something. “He didn’t use a condom.”

Statement.

Fact.

“No,” I whisper. “No, he didn’t.” I stifle a sob.

Callie immediately jumps in. “Honey, you need to get tested. You need an exam. We’ll get you in there first thing tomorrow. It’s simple. Discreet. I’ll take care of it.” Callie is an intern at the on-campus medical clinic. She will take care of it.

Becca, still holding my hands covered in our joint tears, says, “I’m coming too. We are doing this together. We are ALL getting tested.” She smiles softly and squeezes my hands.

I nod. That’s about all I can do.

Manny demands, “Carly, you need to tell someone what happened. Campus security. The police.”

“No!” I cut him off. “I’m not saying a word to anyone. You are the only ones who can know. I just can’t.” The tears continue to stream down my cheeks as my friends comfort me.

The four of us huddle on my bed, and we spend the rest of the night in silence as we polish off the entire gallon of pink wine.