It had been only a few weeks since first hearing from Eve, and the possibility of leaving was all Hazel could think about now. Her father was all she could think about. At school, at home, in her room, with the twins, at the dinner table, all of it. She couldn’t help it from oozing out of her at every moment. She thought about asking for more from her mother, but she enjoyed finally having ownership over the story of her life.
Hazel had a sister! A sister! There was so much to learn about her. And it didn’t hurt that she looked so cool with her messy hair and thick eyeliner and perfect clothes and perfect body and all kinds of friends. And Hazel had a father! A real father! One that shared her flesh and blood and, from what she knew, at least one green eye. He would be so different from her stepfather, Cam. He would understand her. Really, really get her. He might even be just like her. This could be the family she was meant to have.
With every spare moment, Hazel would return to Eve’s Wassup? page and click through her photos. She would inspect Eve’s face in every single one of them. Her eyes, her hair, her cheeks, her chin, her nose. There was no denying that Hazel carried some of those features, too. Hazel would stand in front of the mirror and tilt her head as Eve did in her photo. Squint her eyes as Eve did in her photo. Curl her lips like Eve did in her photo. Pop her hip out to the side like Eve did in her photo.
And with every spare moment in between that, Hazel would search Silas’s name on the internet and click around his website. She found pictures of markets where he was standing all tall and sturdy next to his furniture. The pictures were mostly small and blurry and it was hard to discern his features. His eyes, his hair, his cheeks, his chin, his nose. She wondered what she got from him, aside from that one green eye. She thought about asking her mom if she had any more photos of her father, but Hazel also wanted to wait to see him for the first time through her own eyes. She wondered why her mother never talked about him more often. But Hazel would claim that story for herself soon enough, she hoped. She would take control of her relationship, her bond, with her father.
Hazel thought about how she would ask Eve and Silas all sorts of questions about themselves. Favorite songs. Favorite movies. Whether they were right-or left-handed. Whether they slept on their backs or their bellies. Whether they also hated bananas but loved banana taffy. They would have weeks and weeks of getting to know each other in Maine, she hoped. And she hoped they’d find many, many, many things they shared. And sure, they all grew up in different homes with different people, but those were only things on the outside. Hazel was looking to share the things on the inside. Looking at Eve’s and Silas’s photos and trying to piece the person behind each profile together, Hazel couldn’t be sure. But she hoped. She hoped for all of it.
These were the things she had to hold on to. To connect with. But she wanted more. She was so thirsty for more. She had had this feeling in a vague sense for quite some time. She knew there was something missing from her life. She knew there were gaps to close. An emptiness to fill. But now she had a solution. Now she had a way. And it had long full hair just like hers.
Did you talk to your mom yet? Eve’s message popped up at the bottom of the screen.
Hazel’s belly fluttered with the feeling that someone cared.
Hazel typed and deleted just about a dozen responses before landing on I’m working on it.
Okay, cool, Eve replied.
Hazel began crafting the next response back, but before she could pick one, Eve replied again.
My mom said you and your mom and dad should come by for dinner, if you want.
Good idea, Hazel responded, this time without needing much thought.
Anything she could do to layer on the requests and concessions to her mother, to increase her chances of going.
I’ll tell you what she says, Hazel typed and ran out of the room to set it into motion.
“Mo-ooooo-om,” Hazel yelled out and walked toward her mother. “Eve says we can all go and have dinner at their house.” She finished her sentence just as she arrived at her mother’s feet with two great stomps.
“That’s very nice of them,” her mother replied. “Why don’t you and Eve schedule a day for us to go? It would be great to meet them before the end of the school year.”
But this was only a small step toward the thing she really wanted. She was focused on getting to Maine and nothing else. Perhaps this was a move in the right direction, but the final outcome hadn’t been realized yet.
Hazel didn’t even have to verbally pester her mother with the question of whether Maine was part of the plan. Hazel had been asking hour after hour, day after day. All she had to do was look at her mother up close, right into her eyes, and her mother knew the question she wanted answered.
“I’m thinking about it,” her mother would say.
And Hazel would storm off and sulk.
It happened for days until one day something in Hazel really erupted when her mother said, “I’m thinking about it.”
“Are you serious?” Hazel challenged.
When her mother didn’t respond, she asked again, this time louder and with more heat behind it. “I said, are you serious?”
“I’ll think about it,” Jane replied, just as seemingly nonchalant as the first time she said it. But how could she be so casual about Hazel’s entire sense of identity? Her ticket out?
“I’m going, Mom. I don’t care what you say.”
“Honey, just let me think about it, okay?” Hazel detected a quiver in her mother’s voice this time and decided to pounce. She wasn’t going to let her mother ruin something else for her.
“There’s a lot to do first,” her mother replied.
“What are you even talking about?” Hazel wasn’t prepared to let anything come between her and her new life.
“Look, Hazel. These people are strangers to us. They may not feel like it to you right now, but they are.”
Hazel could tell Jane was trying to say calm, but Hazel wasn’t having any of it.
“Well, call them, talk to them. Go visit them. I don’t care. I have to go and you have to find a way to let me, Mom.”
Her words were coming out more desperate now, but she didn’t care.
“You don’t want me here and you don’t want me to go! What do you want from me, Mom?!”
Her mother’s shoulders fell limp and her eyes went soft.
“Oh, honey,” she said and reached out to hug Hazel.
With her mother’s arms around her, Hazel’s voice and energy went back to calmness. “Please let me go, Mom. Please. I want to go. I need to go.” She felt a salty tear drip down her cheek. “The school year is ending soon, and when it does, I’ll have nothing! Nothing, Mom! Please let me have this thing!”