Chapter 1
I will never forget the evening that my parents called me into the living room to tell me something that destroyed just about everything I thought was true, but also forged new bonds. It happened about four months after my nineteenth birthday.
"Sit down, Nick." my father said.
I could tell by the worried expressions on his and my mother's faces that they were about to deliver bad news. In those few seconds of silence all sorts of dreadful possibilities raced through my mind: they were getting divorced... someone had died... someone was dying of cancer... President Bush would have a third term. My heart sped up as my palms grew damp.
"What is it?" I asked, looking left and right at my parents sitting on the couch.
My normally shy mother could not meet my eyes. Her head was tilted towards her lap and she was fumbling with her wedding ring, twisting it around on her finger.
"Your mother and I have something to tell you." my father said. His voice was calm, but faltering.
"What is it, dad?" I blurted out, wanting to shorten the suspense.
"Well... I guess there's no easy way to say it, so I may as well just come out with it," he said, then paused for another agonizing few seconds "you're adopted, Nick."
I could feel the blood drain from my face. There was a tingling sensation in my chest that spread throughout my entire torso. My eyes narrowed. I had heard the words and understood what they meant, but could not believe them. For nineteen years Richard and Elaine Cooper were my parents. I was more sure of that than anything else I knew or believed. Now I was being told that the one thing I had been lead to believe was an undeniable fact was actually a lie. I felt numb.
"What? No! Mom, how can this be?" I demanded. My mother raised her wet eyes for a moment, then lowered them again, sobbing.
"I know we should have told you this long ago. I'm sorry. Your mother and I struggled with it for years -- when to tell you, what to say. Eventually as you grew older we decided it was just easier to never tell you. We love you unconditionally, with all our hearts, Nick, and we didn't want to have to hurt you by giving you this news after all these years."
Once my numbness passed it was replaced by anger. I felt betrayed. Now everything I held sacred was called into question. I felt my hands form into fists as my jaw clenched.
"Then why are you telling me now, Richard?" I seethed.
I saw my father wince at the sound of his first name coldly coming from my mouth. Never before had I referred to him as anything but 'dad'. He leaned back on the couch, either to think of what to tell me, or to fight his own anger; I couldn't tell.
"We're telling you this now because circumstances have changed and it's necessary to." My father's voice was firm and each word came from his mouth with authority.
I didn't understand what he meant. He sounded cryptic. "What the hell does that mean?" I demanded.
"Because your birth mother has decided that she wants to be a part of your life." he elaborated.
"Well, she's nineteen years too late." I replied with a glare.
"Nick, I can understand how you feel. This news must be..."
"No! No you don't understand, Richard. Were you adopted? Did your parents lie to you for nineteen years?"
"I can see that you're upset, Nick. Maybe we should finish this discussion later, after you've had some time to digest it all." my father suggested.
"Yeah... how about in another nineteen years?" I retorted.
I was mad with anger and confusion. I recall jumping from my chair and storming out of the house. The sound of the door slamming shut behind me echoed down the street. I ran down the driveway, fighting tears. I had no plan. I didn't know where I was going. I just needed to get away; as far as I could. I walked for hours. Thinking. Questioning. Wondering. Eventually it grew cold and I decided to call a friend, Dave, to ask him if I could crash at his place. I explained that I'd had a fight with my parents, but never disclosed the details. Thankfully Dave agreed and I hurried across town. I stayed there for two days, smoking dope and listening to music -- trying to forget everything.
Chapter 2
On the evening of my second day at Dave's place I realized that I had to make a decision. I could not stay there forever, and the longer I did, the harder it would be to return home. After thanking Dave and his parents for their hospitality I slunk back home, fearful of what sort of reception I would receive.
When my mother heard the door close she dashed out to the kitchen. I had never seen her smile at me like she did at that moment when she saw me standing there.
"There's some lasagna in the fridge if you're hungry." she told me in a shaky voice. Her lower lip was trembling.
"Thanks." I replied.
My mother watched me for a while as I looked in the fridge. She seemed in awe, as if I had been brought back from the dead. After watching me for a while she returned to the living room where my father was, watching tv.
I put a square of lasagna on a plate, not bothering to heat it in the microwave, and poured a glass of Pepsi. I brought the food up to my room, hoping to avoid my parents.
For the rest of the evening I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I expected my bedroom door to open and my parents to walk in, wanting to continue the aborted discussion from a few nights previous. That never happened. I guess it was enough for them that I was home and safe and they did not want to raise the issue until I was ready.
The next night after I got home from school I joined my parents for supper. The tension was palpable. We all stared at our plates, afraid to speak. Finally my mother reached out and squeezed my hand. She smiled at me like only a mother can.
"It's wonderful to have you home again, honey." she said, then wiped her hand over her left eye.
"Thanks, mom," I said "it's great to be back."
Even my normally stoic father seemed moved. He reached over and gave my shoulder a firm squeeze as he smiled. "We love you, Nick. I hope you know that."
"I know," I replied "I love you too, dad; you too, mom."
It seemed that as quickly as our family had been torn apart, it was back together once more -- although we all knew that things had forever changed.
"So, I guess we have more to talk about." I ventured, giving my father a nervous glance.
"Whenever you're ready." he told me.
"How about after dessert?" I suggested with a grin, hoping to add some levity to the situation.
"Fine." he agreed, seeming happy.
I was not looking forward to continuing the adoption conversation any more than my parents probably were, but I knew it had to happen. Putting it off any longer would not make it any easier.
Once supper was finished we all went into the living room, looking dour and walking single file. My parents sat on the couch like bookends. I planted myself in a chair across from them. For a while we just stared at one-another, each of us waiting for the other to speak. Finally my father spoke up.
"I don't exactly know where to begin," he said "do you have any questions, Nick?"
I had many questions, but one was overwhelming. "Who are my real parents? I mean, my biological parents..."
I was afraid my original phrasing might have offended my parents because that's what they were: my parents. They were the ones who had raised and nurtured me and that's what being a parent
really
is. It's more than simply depositing sperm or releasing an egg.
I think that my father had not expected such a pointed question from me to begin the conversation. He flinched. "Shall I just come out and tell you?" he asked.
"Yes. Please." I insisted.
My father sighed. "Well, your biological mother is your Aunt Jenny. You'll have to ask her about your father."
I had thought that after the initial news that I was adopted that there could be nothing else to shock or render me momentarily numb again. I was wrong.
My Aunt Jenny was my father's youngest sister. I had not seen her in almost a year. After she got married she moved to New Jersey with her husband, Robert. Before that, she lived closer and visited often. She and I always got along great. When I was a child she spent hours playing with me and watching cartoons, then as I got older she gave me advice when needed and was my confidant at times. We had a good relationship and I often thought of her as my second mother. Once Jenny moved to Jersey infrequent phone calls were the only contact my parents and I had with her. But she always wanted to talk with me when she called, and would sometimes call back if I was not home. Every Christmas and birthday that I had a parcel arrived in the mail from her containing a gift for me. Now it made sense to me. It was almost like I subconsciously suspected something all those years.
"Aunt Jenny?" I asked in disbelief.
"Yes," my father confirmed "she had you when she was sixteen. She was just too young and immature to raise a child on her own, so after we all discussed it with your grandparents it was decided that Elaine and I would adopt you. We were getting married that summer, so it was perfect. That way, you were being raised by family members and Jenny could be a part of your life."
Although it seemed strange to me at the time, I was grateful for the way things had worked out. If I had have been placed with an adoption agency I probably might have never met either of my biological parents, let alone any other family members. I still had questions though and I guess my father could tell that from the pensive look on my face.
