I was still in bed the next morning when Ted went to leave for work. He had been in to kiss me to say goodbye and I was lying semi-awake in a tangle of sheets and blankets, wondering at the slight curve to my tummy.
It was easy to forget that something quite miraculous was happening while we rushed about our lives, distracted by all of the drama with my parents. I slid my hands over my lower belly several times, trying to measure the angle of any potential bump that might be emerging. I wondered if the baby was moving around beneath my hand, and if it was bothered at all by the stress hormones that had no doubt been pumping through my body lately. Would it look like me? I hoped it inherited Ted’s metabolism and my voice. We hadn’t talked about it, but I had a feeling that Ted was hoping for a son. I was starting to form a mental list of potential boy’s names when I heard Ted open the front door, and I paused, waiting for the sound of it locking behind him. When I didn’t hear the slam, I rose reluctantly and pulled on a gown over my night shirt, thinking he’d left it open.
I found him sitting on the step beside my mother, his arm around her thin shoulders. For a moment, he didn’t realise that I was behind them, and the expression on his face was pure agony. I stopped and watched them, thinking about how quickly the landscape of my family life had changed. I’d been doing a lot of talking since my parents had told me the truth about my birth. I hadn’t thought nearly enough about the impact all of this was having on my husband.
‘Come inside, Mum,’ I said softly. Ted glanced up at me.
‘I can’t,’ she whispered. I had startled her, and now she pulled away from Ted and rose. ‘I don’t deserve your hospitality . . . and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Sabina. I’ll never even ask you for it. I wanted to do this weeks ago, but we were so scared, and Dad . . .’
There was an aching sadness in her smile but she held out her hand, and I reached for it automatically. I felt the tremors running through her, transmitted to my skin via the piece of paper she clutched, now sandwiched between our fingers. There were thirty-eight years of guilt in her red-rimmed eyes.
‘We so loved pretending that you were really ours, Sabina. It was like a wonderful game, and after a while, we forgot that we were only ever playing. Dad doesn’t want to let that go, but I know that you need us to.’
She withdrew her hand from mine, leaving the paper behind.
‘C-come in,’ I pleaded. ‘Come in and talk to me.’
‘No, Dad will be upset if he wakes up before I get home.’
‘Don’t worry about Dad! I need you!’
The last of my sleepiness had disappeared. My hands shook when I looked down at the paper. Mum’s handwriting was uneven. I could see that she’d been shaking when she wrote.
Liliana Wyzlecki
3rd September 1973
My breath caught.
‘This is her? This is me?’
Mum nodded.
‘Mum, t-thank you,’ a sob overcame me and I pressed my hands against my mouth to stop myself dissolving completely.
‘I . . .’ Mum tried to speak, but couldn’t quite form the words. She looked to Ted helplessly, and he pointed to a box on the ground beside our door.
‘Megan brought some photo albums for you. So that if you can find her, you can show her what your life has been like.’
I stared at the box. It contained a collection of mismatched photo albums that I’d never seen before.
‘Where did these come from?’
‘I made them for her,’ Mum choked. She took a step backwards and away from us. ‘Good luck, Sabina. I really . . . I really wish you luck, love.’
She turned away and started to walk towards her car. Ted caught my arm as I moved to give chase.
‘Bean, let her go.’
I thought about it. After all, I had in my hand the thing that I needed most from her.
I didn’t have what I wanted though. I wanted comfort and assurance. I wanted an open chat, and some easy answers.
‘I can’t let her go, Ted.’
I shook his arm away and took off at a half-jog towards my mother’s car. She was fumbling with the key button to open the door. Her brave face was gone now; she was a mess of ugly tears.
I snatched the keys from her hand and then we stared at each other in the early light. I was furious and I was grateful and I was devastated and relieved. I didn’t know where to start explaining all that – my emotions were running so high and fast that words barely seemed big enough to funnel them out.
‘You did know her.’
Mum nodded, and wiped at her eyes. God, she looked so old – painfully thin, drowning in her own tears. I felt like Mum had undergone a physical metamorphosis in the weeks since she’d told me the truth.
‘She wanted to keep me, didn’t she? That’s why you never told me.’
‘Sabina, I told you, it wasn’t as simple as that—’
‘I know, Mum. I just need to hear it. She wanted to keep me. You wouldn’t let her. You took me yourself. That’s what happened, wasn’t it?’
‘If you need to simplify things that much, Sabina, you will never understand this.’
‘I would hate anyone that took my baby from me,’ I whispered, thinking of the blissfully calm moment I’d just abandoned, lying in my bed thinking about my pregnancy. I hadn’t intended cruelty and hadn’t realised how hurtful my words had been until I heard Ted’s stifled gasp behind me. Mum suddenly met my gaze again.
‘And you’d have every right to,’ she said flatly.
‘I almost get Dad’s part in this – I can imagine him deciding what was best for everyone and then pulling all of the strings like some sick puppet master. But you? You were the one who taught me that every person matters. You taught me to always tell the truth. You were apparently even keeping these photo albums for her – you obviously knew that I’d have to find out about this one day, but you kept it from me for my whole life anyway? None of this makes sense Mum, and now you’re leaving me to deal with it all on my own and it’s just not fair!’
Mum reached towards me, and for a moment, I thought she was going to take my hand. I read this as an act of contrition or a softening of sorts and almost whimpered in relief, but froze again when I realised that she was only reaching for her keys. She was still crying silently, her face still a crumpled, blotchy mess, but there was a determination in her gaze.
‘I need to go home now, Sabina.’
‘The worst part of all of this isn’t that I’m adopted,’ I spoke in desperation, and the words sounded much harsher than I’d intended them to be. ‘It’s not even that you hid it from me. It’s that I’ve realised that you were never the person I thought you were.’
Mum snatched the keys from my hand.
‘I’m sorry that you feel like that,’ she whispered. ‘I know that I’ve let you down. I know that what we’ve done is unforgivable. I only hope you can move on and build a new future, now that you have some answers.’ She sat quickly in the car, then put the keys into the ignition and started the engine, staring ahead at the road instead of me. ‘Take care, my love.’
Ted slipped his arms around my waist and rested his cheek against mine, and we watched her car pull away.
‘At least you have her name now, Bean.’
‘I know,’ I whispered. I watched until Mum’s car was out of sight then turned to him and returned his embrace. ‘At least now I have her name – and I am going to find her, Ted. It’s too late to make things right, but maybe at least I can find some closure – for us all.’