Page 7 of Forgotten Dreams
“I have no idea. I understand they love me. I love them. I just—” I take a deep breath. “It’s the fact it was such a secret, like they were ashamed of it.”
“They were not ashamed of it because then that would make them ashamed of you, and we both know they worship you.” I nod because it’s true. “Maybe they were scared to tell you.”
“I would have preferred to be told and not find out the way I did. Would I have been shocked? Yes, yes, I would have, but fuck, I don’t know.”
“I’m happy you are talking about it with your therapist,” she says, “and I’m here if you ever need to vent.”
“Thank you.” I take another deep breath, and she tilts her head to the side and looks at me.
“What’s with that look?” she asks me quizzically.
“Well,” I start, “I was thinking.”
She shakes her head. “The last time you did that, we spent the week ‘hiking,’ and you forgot that it gets cold at night, and we almost froze to death.”
“We checked into a Four Seasons hotel six hours later,” I remind her, “and you slept in the robe they gave you.” I point at her, and she rolls her eyes. “I was thinking of maybe moving.”
She gasps, “Move away?” I nod. “There is more to it, isn’t there?”
“There is,” I admit and ignore the way my heart speeds up. “I was thinking of looking for my birth parents.” Her eyes go bigger.
“I don’t know if you should do that.” Worry fills her voice.
“I feel like I don’t even know who I am.” Just saying it out loud to someone other than my therapist feels both scary and good at the same time. “Like, I know who I am, obviously.”
I look up at the ceiling. “But why didn’t they want me?”
“Listen, I’m all for finding out where you came from but, Sierra…”
The tears come to my eyes. “I know. I know. It’s stupid and they literally threw me away.”
“They didn’t throw you away.” She tries to make me feel better.
“They put me in a box and left me outside, wrapped in a blanket.” My voice gets higher. “They didn’t even, like, ring the bell or, I don’t know, contact an adoption agency.” The tear escapes. “Like, who does that?”
“Assholes,” she retorts. “But you also don’t know why they did what they did.”
“Was I a secret?” The questions that have been going through my head nonstop for the last two weeks have been wild. “I literally dream that I’m walking down the street, and everyone is a stranger to me and staring at me. I walk up to random people and am like, ‘Are you my birth mother?’”
“Sierra,” she says my name, and I feel like she’s about to hug me through the phone.
“It’s crazy. I shouldn’t even care since they didn’t.” I lean back in my work chair. “But I fucking do.”
“It’s only normal,” she agrees with me. “So where are you moving?”
“Somewhere I think I could have support and still have a fresh start. Sort of in the middle of where I am now and where I was left.”
“Have you been looking?” Of course she would know I have already started this plan.
“I have,” I tell her, then I click on my emails and send her the listing I found late last night or, better yet, in the middle of the night. “I just sent it to you.”
She clicks on her phone, and her face disappears as she looks at the link I just sent her. “Sierra,” she says my name and reappears on the screen. “Okay, one.” She holds up her finger. “This is here.” I nod and smile. “Two, this house?—”
“I know.” I tap my desk. “It’s utterly perfect.”
“It’s run-down, girl.” She laughs. “I think I’ve driven by there and thought it was going to fall on top of my car.”
“You’ve really gotten more dramatic now that you’ve hooked up with the love of your life.”
