Page 85 of Lucas & Melissa Falling in Love
“We’re fine.” I put an arm around her and lead her back to the dining room. She’s shorter than I remember and it’s not because I’m wearing heels. My boots are flat but standing next to her it feels like I’ve grown an inch. Or she’s shrunk. My belly churns at this and I ruthlessly put aside this new source of anxiety about my parents aging.
“Let’s sit down and I’ll tell you all about it.” My voice sounds calm and sure and poised as ever and it has the effect of soothing my mother so that she smiles at me, trusting. And now I feel like a traitor more than ever. But I have to tell them. The wheels are already in motion and this needs to be played out. I will find and meet my birth parents and . . . who knows what happens after that? I close a chapter. Or I open a black box. Or mystery solved and I move on.
Sitting back down in my chair, I pour myself more coffee even though it’s the last thing I need.
“Well?” my father says. He’s still smiling. My mother looks unsure. I know how she feels.
“I—that is Lucas and I—have hired a private investigator to find my birth parents.”
My mother’s hands fly to her mouth, but not in time to completely smother the “Oh my.” Swiveling my head back to my father, I watch him as he sits, speechless. Now I know what stony silence looks like.
“We met with the investigator and she seems very competent. And discreet.”
Still silence.
“Honey,” my mother starts and stops.
“Look I know this is hard for you, but you know it’s not about you. I love you both dearly and nothing will ever change that. You’ll always be my real parents.” Now I pause. My father is studying me, listening, not saying anything but I can tell he’s holding something back. I forge on.
“It’s just that I want to know who they are. What kind of people they are. Where I came from—at least the genetic part of me.”
My mother nods. My father looks down at his plate.
“Will someone say something?”
I look at Lucas, but not because I want him to talk. He takes a healthy sip of the wine we brought with us and he wipes his mouth with his napkin.
“I can understand your curiosity,” my father finally speaks. “But I already told you your birth parents don’t want to be found. Maybe you should let this go—”
“I don’t think so, Dad.” I say the words quietly, then shift my eyes to my mother.
“It’s okay dear, we understand. But, well . . . I think what your father means is don’t be disappointed if your investigator can’t find them—your birth parents.”
Lucas speaks up now, “I’m fairly confident that she will. She’s very competent. The best there is. Although I agree there’s a possibility for Melissa to be disappointed, I don’t think it’ll be because we don’t find her birth parents.”
I look at him and I don’t know if I’m grateful or annoyed, but he’s right.
“You’re right,” I say. I smile at my father. He doesn’t smile back.
“I think you will most definitely be disappointed if you ever meet them,” Dad says.
“The investigator can use all the information we can provide them.” Lucas says. “We were hoping perhaps there was something you could tell us about them—”
“No. Why would you say that? I told you they were very secretive and wanted absolute anonymity.” My father’s words border on angry, and are certainly rude. I flick a glance at Lucas, but he doesn’t appear daunted in the least.
We both knew my parents weren’t going to like this. But I don’t remember seeing my father behave rudely to a guest before, no matter what. He’s a quiet gentleman, not given to expressing a lot of emotion.
“Maybe you can tell us the name of the attorney you used to set up the adoption. Who was the go-between—”
“No. He’s long gone,” Dad says. “Look, I know you mean well, but I don’t have any information for you and if I did, I’m not so sure I would give it to you. I promised long ago that I would respect the wishes of Melissa’s birth parents regarding their privacy.”
“Dear, it’s Melissa’s right,” Mom says quietly.
My father gives her an almost angry look that I can only interpret asdon’t say a word,bordering onshut yourmouth.
“That’s all right, Mom. I’m sure the investigator will find them with or without any further information.” I’m not as certain as I sound. I was sure we’d be able to get the name of an attorney or adoption agency or something. But I’ve stomached about as much as I can of upsetting my parents for the night.
I eat one bite of what’s on my dish. I should have told my mother not to make dinner. It’s too late to eat and my stomach is too busy flipping out to be digesting food anyway.
