11

“Molly?”

“Is that you, Mary?”

“It’s me.’’

“Just a second, let me turn down the stereo.” Molly put the phone down. “Hi, I’m back, sorry. I could hardly hear.”

“How was your Christmas?”

“Really wonderful, and my birthday was even better. Mom and Dad took me and my friend Kathy Barksdale—I think I’ve mentioned her before—anyway, they took us to Mt. Hood in Oregon to go skiing. We had the best time.”

“Speaking of your birthday, that’s actually why I’m calling.” Mary hesitated, clearing her throat. “It’s happened. We took the petition to court.” There was a long silence. “Molly?”

It was still silent.

“Molly, can you hear me?”

“It really is happening, isn’t it?”

“It really is, that’s right. The judge should sign the petition to open your records by the end of this week at the latest. Then I;ll start the search next week. Also, Diane Sadock is sending you the ISSR registration form; it’s a form for the International Soundex Reunions Register, which is an international clearinghouse for people hoping to find lost relatives.”

“I remember hearing about that at the last meeting. I’m glad Mom and Dad and I went to those every month. It’s helped.”

“Well, I just wanted you to know where we are.”

“How long do you think it will take? I know that’s a ridiculous question, I know the answer by heart from the meetings: ‘two hours or two years—or not at all,’ but I can’t seem to help asking.”

“If you can, just try to forget all about it because there’s just no way of knowing.”

“Was this part hard for you?’’

“It’s incredibly frustrating to know your C.I. has the name of your birthmother, but that you can’t have any information unless she’s found and gives consent. It almost gets harder somehow. I know that.”

“Can you at least tell me how the search is going?”

“I can, but honestly, Molly, my experience is that the best thing is for you to really try and forget it. It’s too disruptive otherwise.”

As soon as Molly got off the phone with Mary, she called Kathy, but Mrs. Barksdale said she’d gone downtown. Her parents were out so she called Roland. She knew he’d understand what a big deal this was.

“Hi.”

“How come you never call me anymore?”

“Roland. Do you realize how ridiculous you sound? Here I am, calling you up, and the first thing you do is give me a bad time about it.”

“Whenever I call you, your line’s always busy.”

“So’s yours.”

“How could it be? We have call waiting.”

“I did not call you up to have this conversation—”

“I guess I am in a crappy mood.”

“Could have fooled me. What happened?”

“My manager at work is not giving me the hours I need to work around practice and the game schedule.”

“That’s terrible! What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I need the money, but there’s no way I’d give up basketball.”

“So why not get another job?”

“You just don’t walk in a place and demand certain hours, it doesn’t work that way. I don’t want to talk about it—it’s depressing. How are you, anyway?”

“Well, it’s happened. I just got off the phone with Mary Robinson, and she sent the petition to open my birth records to court, and the judge will sign it by the end of the week.”

“It’s hard to believe—I mean, it doesn’t seem that long ago that we first drove over to that place.”

“I know, it might not be that long before I find out what kind of Asian I am.”

“That’s really important to you, isn’t it?”

“You know it is.”

“Sometimes I get fed up with the image Asians have.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, you know, that model minority crap. That Asians are all smart, hardworking, family types. I think it’s a nerd stereotype, and if you don’t fit it you’re super weird. Like my family …’’ His voice trailed off.

“Are you talking about your dad?”

“Sure. The guy leaves, never sends my mom the money he’s supposed to—I haven’t even seen him since last summer, and that was for about an hour as he went through town on his way to some job in Alaska. I’m not even sure it’s worth inviting him to graduation because I doubt he’d show anyway. Some family guy—he’s a model asshole.”

“I’m sorry, Roland.”

“No big.”

“Do you want to come over?”

“I gotta go to work—oh, just a second—I got another call. Do you want to hold a minute?”

“No. That’s okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

‘‘Molly?”

“Huh?”

“That’s great about the court thing and all—”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for telling me about it.”

“Sure.”

Molly was sure—there was just something in his voice when Roland got the call on the other line—that it must have been Megan Lee. We used to share so much stuff, almost everything, in fact, Molly thought. Why had everything changed? Damn.

It seemed too lonely hanging around the house so Molly decided to drive over to Green Lake and walk around the lake. The trail around the lake was always crowded with people jogging, walking and riding bikes, the whole place overflowing with kids and babies and dogs. It always cheered her up.

Near the boat house at the north end of the lake she saw an Asian woman walking a little toy poodle, a little puffy dog with a red bow on its head. Could that be her? With that dog? She never had liked those nerdy little dogs. Molly realized she had been worrying about the worst thing, that her birthmother was in prison or a prostitute. But maybe she was just someone that Molly would have nothing in common with, or maybe just some jerk, like Roland’s father.

Could her birthmother have gotten mixed up with someone like that? Then Molly was struck with a jarring thought: What if Roland’s father was her father? They’d be brother and sister, after all! That’s just too bizarre, she decided. This whole thing is getting weird. Mary’s right, she should just try and forget it.

“Hi, you’re just in time.” Ellie was taking a fish out of the oven for dinner when Molly got back from Green Lake.

“That looks so good.”

“Dad and I were down at the market. The King salmon looked so superb, we couldn’t pass it up.”

“Wow, this is quite a feast,” Molly said, sitting down at the table. “I’m glad you guys are home; I’ve been wanting to talk to you all afternoon.”

“We’re going out after dinner.” He took a bite of the salmon. “This is great, Ellie.”

“We’ve got Sonics tickets tonight. What’s up?” her mother asked.

“Mary Robinson called me right after you left. And they took the petition to the court.”

Ellie put her fork down and took a sip of her water. She looked at Paul.

“Also, Mary said Diane was sending me something called the ISSR registration form to fill out. Now that I’m eighteen that can go ahead, too.”

“Molly, let me get this straight. They went over this at the meetings, but I feel a bit blank for some reason. This really means now that the records will be open and the search will begin.”

“Yes. Mary said the records could be open at the end of next week, and that she’ll begin the search right away.”

“And it means your birthmother could be found right away. Next week—or maybe not for years, is that right?” Ellie asked quietly.

“Yes. Or maybe never.”

“But it’s possible they could find her right away,” her father repeated.

“Yes. Diane Sadock told me about a search where the birthmother had listed her uncle as next of kin on the hospital admission form, and the C.I. looked in the phone book and called the uncle, who gave the C.I. the birthmother’s phone number. The C.I. called the birthmother and a reunion was arranged the next day.”

Ellie pushed her chair back from the table and began taking off the dishes. She went quickly to the kitchen, turning her back to Molly and Paul. She turned on the water and began scraping the dishes. She cleared her throat. “We’d better get going to the game, Paul,” she called from the kitchen.

“I wish you didn’t have to go. I feel like I’m about five, only there’s no baby-sitter coming.” Molly laughed. “It’s been kind of a heavy day. But Mary says the best advice is to just try and forget about the whole thing. So I guess the Sonics should be good for that for you guys.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Kathy’s coming over. We’ll probably just rent a movie or something.”

“Well, have fun.”

“You, too.”

Upstairs, Molly knocked on her parents’ door. She’d had trouble getting the VCR to work right, and she wanted to ask her dad about it before they left. When her mother opened the door, Molly saw that she had been crying.

“Mom—what’s wrong?”

“I’m trying, Molly, God knows, I’m trying. But this is all happening so fast, and when you told us how there was a reunion that happened the next day—the very week the records were opened. That could happen to us! It could be sometime next week—that’s so fast!”

“Oh, Mom—” Molly didn’t know what to say.

“I just feel pushed, that’s all. Even though I knew all this stuff from the meetings, I don’t know—this whole thing is hard enough. Then when it starts bothering me again I start feeling guilty that I’m not being understanding enough.”

“Ellie, you’ve got to calm down.” Paul tried to reassure her. “Let’s just go to the game and forget about all of this for a while. We can talk to Mary’s parents and see how they got through this first part.”

“So now you’re the rational one—” Ellie smiled and blew her nose.

“It’s my turn to be.”

“It’s going to be okay, Mom.” Molly went over to her mother and hugged her. “Really it is,” she said, trying to convince herself as much as her mother.

The next week Molly tried to take Mary’s advice and forget about the search but her efforts were met with varying success. On Wednesday, she arrived home to find her mother in the kitchen.

“Mom, what are you doing here?” The warm kitchen smelled of freshly baked cookies.

“My last patient was at three, and I usually get caught up on paperwork on Wednesday afternoon, but I decided to come home. Here—” Ellie motioned to the baking sheets on the counter. “Have some. I just took them out of the oven.”

“These look delicious. I love the chocolate chips warm and gooey like this. Aren’t you having some?”

“Sure. I’ll get a cup of coffee and join you.” Ellie got her coffee and sat across from Molly at the kitchen table.

“You haven’t made cookies in years. In fact, mostly I remember that we’d buy the dough in a plastic roll, and I’d end up eating the dough. I don’t think the cookies got made much.” Molly laughed.

“Yes, as you’d say these are serious cookies. Made from scratch.”

“They’re wonderful.”

“Good.”

“It’s weird having you be here—I mean, having you be home when I get home from school.”

“I can leave and go back to the office. I certainly have plenty to do there.”

“No, I don’t mean that, but Mom—listen, about these cookies—”

“What’s wrong with them?”

“Oh, Mom. That’s not the point, it’s about the lunches you’ve been making, too. Every morning this week I’ve found a lunch that you packed in the refrigerator—”

“What is the point, Molly?” Her mother sounded hurt.

“I’m just worried that you’ve doing all this stuff because the search is starting.”

“Well, I—”

“Listen, Mom. I love you. You’re a doctor and—”

“I’ve always worried—not being a traditional mother.”

“So what?”

“That my career might have hurt my family, and now if you find her—”

“I’m proud of you—there’s nothing wrong with the way you are, and I don’t need cookies or my lunch made. I just need you to be you.” Molly looked tenderly at her mother. “I’m not trying to find her because you didn’t bake cookies.”

“It’s terrible that you just ate the raw dough from the plastic roll—”

Molly started laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m worried that the lady’s going to be a hooker—and you’re afraid she’s BETTY CROCKER!”

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