"Unfortunately, there is no mistake", she said, closing the file. Her cat-like green eyes stared at me sorrowfully. "Okay" I replied in a quavering voice. This much anticipated moment, longed for since I was five, was over. My file was empty.
The clerk at Tender Heart Adoption Agency, Ms. Ross, started to tell me about the other options I still had. I didn't really listen to her. I mean, how could I? Here I've waited thirteen years to find out who my birth mother was, only to be told there is nothing to tell. The struggle to keep my tears from falling was hard enough.
"What could've happened to those documents?" I asked abruptly, cutting Ms. Ross off. I no longer cared about being polite. I wanted something, anything, to cling to. Ms. Ross let out a sigh like a weary steam engine and struggled to return an imaginary strand of auburn hair into her ridiculously tight bun.
For a moment, her bun took my mind away from my disappointment. It was so tight; I wondered how she was able to turn her head. Honestly, I'd get a migraine if I tried to wear my drab brown hair like that, I thought.
"There was a fire a few years ago when some welders set the roof ablaze by accident" she answered, snapping me back to reality. "It must've been lost then. I'm so sorry, dear." She reached over her desk and patted my hand. She was all sympathy.
I didn't want sympathy nor did I want apologies. I just wanted my birth mother's information, that's all. A part of me felt like storming into their file room and not leaving until I had my answers. Another, far larger part, wanted to leave as soon as humanly possible.
"It's alright, Ms. Ross. Thank you for taking the time out to help me" I said, rising out my chair. I couldn't stay any longer. It felt like the walls were trying to smother me. I did my best to walk out the office dignified. I wanted no one there to know what a blow I'd received. Once I'd reached the outer hall, I ran to my car until my legs ached as much as my heart.
After I got inside my car, I let the tears come. "Some birthday gift" I sobbed. I pulled a handkerchief out my purse and blew my nose. Then I just sat there, letting loose on my grief.
Twenty minutes later, as I was preparing to leave, my phone rang and I answered it. "Vera, sweetie, how'd it go?" my adopted mother asked, her voice smooth and sweet like blackberry honey. "Not well. My..." I stopped to take a deep breath, and then continued. "My file is empty, Mom. My birth information, everything is gone. Ms. Ross said there was a fire a few years back and it must've been lost then". There was silence on her end for ten seconds. "Oh, Vera..." she whispered, her voice suddenly thick with tears. " I'm so sorry." The lump in my throat returned. "It's fine" I lied. I didn't want her or Dad to know how much it hurt me. "I'm on my way home."
My adopted parents are Claire and Jeremy Ridley. They decided to adopt two month old me after trying for years to have a baby. The way Dad tells it, the ink on the papers wasn't even dry when Mom found out that they were expecting. We went from a trio to a quartet with Samantha's arrival. And a few years ago, we had become an Octet when they adopted a family group of four.
On that day in late May, I had turned 18. Samantha was a year behind me, twins Abner and Phillip were ten, Flora six, and John was four. Two weeks before, on the twins' birthday, their mom had driven from out of state to see them. I'll be honest and say that made me somewhat jealous.
I knew my Mom had told the family what had happened because when I got home twenty minutes later, my siblings gave me lots of space. Not that it mattered much. I stayed in my room for three days, playing every sad CD and DVD in my parent's vast collection, and living off of junk food.
