Finally, it’s my turn.
She organizes the mail in her cart and then hands me all of mine as one big packet.
“Good luck,” she says, turning toward the door.
I wait until she disappears outside before frantically going through it.
Suddenly, there it is!
I was half expecting a large package but the letter is normal sized with what looks to be one sheet of paper.
The only reason I know that it’s from them is that the DNAPlus logo is right there in the top left hand corner of the envelope.
For a second, I consider running up the stairs and opening it in my room, but I know that as soon as I walk over the threshold, Sydney will want to know if it came.
No, it’s best to open it here.
I take a deep breath.
It’s going to be okay, I say to myself. Either way, it’s going to be fine.
Either she’s my mother or she’s not.
Either he’s my brother or he’s not.
It’s not going to change anything.
I open the envelope feverishly, nearly ripping the whole thing in half.
When I unfold the letter, my hands are trembling.
I skim the bullshit at the beginning and search for the results. They are at the bottom.
I read the results over and over again to make sure that I didn’t make a mistake. Then I read the fine print.
My mother was not lying.
She’s not my biological mother and Owen is not my biological brother. That’s with 100% certainty.
When my head stops buzzing, I sit down on the steps and read the letter again.
Again.
And again.
A part of me is hoping for the results to be different.
Another part is excited by the prospect of finding another family.
A part of me is terrified of what I might find.
“Is that it?” Sydney walks up to me from behind.
I guess I’ve been gone a bit too long and she noticed.
I hand her the letter without saying a word.
“How do you feel about this?”
“I have no idea.”
“What are you going to do?”
I shrug.
“Are you going to look for your real mom?”
“Yes.” I nod.
I don’t know how I feel about Owen.
I don’t know how I feel about my mom not being my biological mom but the one thing I know for sure is that I’m going to look for her now.
“Who do you think she could be?” Sydney asks.
I want her to be someone kind and fabulous and effervescent, someone completely the opposite of my real mother.
But I’m also a realist.
People don’t just give up their kids for no reason.
Maybe she was, or is a drug addict.
Maybe she was a teenager who couldn’t take care of a baby.
Maybe she was abused or even raped.
Or maybe she just didn’t want me.
“What about Owen?” Sydney asks. “I guess he knew this all along.”
“He’s my brother whatever this piece of paper says. I love him like a brother and I always will. And I’m also pissed at him. I’m mad as hell. He should not have kept this from me. He should not have kept her secret.”
5
Olive
When she comes to visit…
I have never seen Sydney freak out like this before.
She hasn’t seen her mother in almost six months. She always lost her head a little bit whenever she came to town but this was taking it to a whole new level.
The main thing that changed was the frantic energy that suddenly consumed the whole place.
Sydney is usually calm and collected and pretty easygoing but whenever her mother is even in the vicinity of this continent, she starts to clean and pack and generally buzz around like a bee.
This time, however, with James here, Sydney is not only cleaning her room, the living room, and the kitchen but also behind the stove and deep in the cupboards.
“Is she really going to look there?” I ask.
“She doesn’t find anything out here then, yes, she will,” Sydney says, nodding her head.
When she dusts every last inch of the living room, and by that I mean every last inch including the inside of the lamp shades and the crown molding, Sydney mops and shines the floors until you can eat off them.
“I don’t think we should walk on them until she shows up,” I say jokingly.
“You’ve read my mind,” she agrees, completely serious.
I sigh loudly with annoyance but don’t say another word.
I know that she’s only doing this to make herself feel better. It gives her a sense of control in a world where she has none.
She doesn’t know how her mother will react to James and she knows that every part of her will be carefully inspected and scrutinized.
Sydney works hard for two full days and spends the last few hours before her mother’s arrival obsessing over which outfits they should wear.
James is a lot less concerned about the meeting and this seems to stress Sydney out even more.
I hear them arguing through the closed door.
When they come back out, James is still wearing the same thing he wore earlier, a dress shirt with jeans and a blazer.
He has stood his ground but his confidence has taken quite a blow.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to leave?” I ask again.
I don’t really want to be here but I will stay if she needs me to. The way she looks at me with her eyes all big and wide, I know that I have no other choice.
I have to stay.
Sydney’s mother arrives right after seven.
Dressed in an elegant black suit and four-inch stilettos, she does not look a bit like a woman who just spent more than twenty hours on an international flight.
Her hair is pulled up into a bun and her hands are small, but strong.
Having attended the best schools along with Cambridge University, she speaks flawless English with a posh British accent and insists that James call her by her first name, Hilary.
I have met Hilary a few times before and she welcomes me with a warm hug like an old friend.
Her manners are impeccable yet there is a distance between us.
When I first met her, I foolishly thought that maybe she would think of me as more than just her daughter’s friend and roommate.
She was kind and cordial and I mistook that to mean that she wanted to be my friend, or even a mother figure.
But after a few more visits, I realized that her manners are deceptive. She makes everyone feel like they are a close friend but that doesn’t mean that it’s true.
For some reason I expect her to be cool and harsh with James, but she is, again, very pleasant and nice.
I don’t know her well enough to read her but when I help Sydney with the wine, I get the sense that it’s not going as well as I thought.
“She seems to really like me,” James says, throwing his arm around Sydney’s shoulder when Hilary excuses herself and uses the bathroom.
Sydney stares at him with her mouth dropping open.
“What? She likes me, right?” He looks at us innocently.
I can’t help but laugh.
“She doesn’t?” he asks, his eyebrows raising to the middle of his forehead. “Wait, what? No, she does. She’s acting so…nice.”