“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Nothing. Just give me the fucking number.”
“Fuck you. I’m gonna go wait in the isolation room.”
I make sure to walk without a limp as I leave the control room and make my way across the main room, past where Jake is setting up, then into the soundproof isolation room where I’ll do the voice recordings for each track. Once I get in the room. I shut the door and climb carefully onto the stool under the microphone.
I pull my phone out of my back pocket and see I have three texts: one from Jake and two from random numbers I don’t recognize. I deleted all the girls’ numbers I had saved in the address book in my phone when Claire and I got back together for those five days. Since then, I get occasional texts from numbers I don’t recognize. I usually just delete them, but this last message piques my interest.
Unknown: We’re willing to meet next week if your girlfriend promises to not upset Abigail.
This is not a random girl and this is not at all what I expected. Abby’s parents have never given me their phone number and they have refused to respond to my adoption lawyer, Tasha Singer’s, messages for the last four weeks. I’m beginning to think that maybe it’s Tasha who has rubbed them the wrong way and not Claire and me.
I just hope Claire isn’t upset that I lied to them and said we were back together. I thought it might increase our chances of getting a meeting with them if we appeared to be united and stable, like we’re doing this as much for our love of each other as our love for Abby. This is definitely true for me. Just the idea that Claire may not feel the same way makes me sick.
Glancing into the main room, I see Jake has finished setting up his drums and the studio manager is in there helping Tristan get set up. The sound tech is probably here. I’ll have to call Claire later. But, for now, I can’t pass up this opportunity. I have to respond to this text.
Me: Next week is great. I promise everything will go smoothly. Thanks for this opportunity. I’ll be in touch. - Chris
I then shoot off another text to Claire.
Me: I have good news. You’re going to get to see Abby next week. What day/time works for you?
The studio manager, Jerry, signals to me through the glass. I’m not sure if he’s asking me to test the mic, but I have to wait for Claire’s response first.
Claire: Really? I don’t even know what to say. How did you make this happen?
Me: I promise there was no money involved. I did it because I love you and Abby.
There’s another pause and I watch anxiously as Jerry approaches the isolation room. He pops his head in and his bushy moustache wiggles when he raises his eyebrows.
“There a problem with the mic?”
“Nope. Just need a couple of minutes. I’m almost ready.”
He glances at the phone in my hand and nods before he leaves the room.
Claire: Any time after 4 pm M-Th & after 6 on Fri. Weekends open. Thank u so much. U just made me so happy.
I grin as I imagine her sitting in class with a smile on her face. Nothing makes me happier than Claire’s smile. I think seeing her smile while holding Abby might cause me to reach some kind of happiness overload. It will be difficult to see Abby go home with Brian and Lynette Jensen, but it will be worth it to know that Claire will finally get to feel what I felt. Who knows? Maybe then, both of us will be able to move on and find peace knowing that Abby is in good hands. Maybe then, we’ll find strength in each other knowing that we were both willing to do whatever it took to make each other’s dreams come true.
Chapter Seven
Claire
Love is not black and white. It’s not even gray. Love is every shade of color in the spectrum, changing with every ray of light given and stolen. Sometimes you forget how much you love someone, until you realize their smile is like a spotlight shined on your heart.
I love Senia like a sister, and the affection and gratitude I feel for her family is just as strong. They took care of me when I needed a place to hide. While I was pregnant with Abigail, they gave me a home at a time when I was certain I’d never have a home again. The smiles they greet me with as Senia and I arrive at her parents’ house warm my insides.
“Mi niña!” Senia’s mother, Nancy, cries as she greets me with her arms wide open.
“Hi, Nancy.” I laugh as she hugs me and shakes me like a ragdoll. “I missed you.”
“Oh, baby, we missed you, too,” she says as she lets me go. “Are you hungry? The turkey’s not ready yet, but we have some tamales on the stove.”
Senia looks at her mom incredulously. “Hello? Do I even exist?”
“Oh, shut up, Senia. Your thighs don’t need any more tamales,” Nancy says as she winks at me.
Senia rolls her eyes. “Come with me to my room,” she says to me as she nods toward the stairs. “I have to show you something.”
We make our way through the maze of relatives and old world décor up to the second floor. Senia slams her bedroom door shut behind us as we enter the room. I recognize the fruity scent in her bedroom, where I practically hid under the covers for six months.
Senia pulls her phone out the front pocket of her jeans and hands it to me before she leaps onto her bed.
“What the fuck does that mean?” she says as I read the text message she has open on the screen.
Tristan: Happy Thanksgiving, Senia. Hope you’re spending it with the ones you love.
I look up from the screen and Senia is lying down with her head propped up on one hand while she pats the bed for me to sit down. I sit on the edge of the bed and lay the phone down next to me.
“How did Tristan get your number? And why do you have it programmed in your address book?”
“He texted me a couple of days ago just to say hi. I ignored the text, but I saved his number.”
“Because?”
“Just in case.”
“In case you want to be treated like dirt?”
“We don’t all have two hot guys fighting over us.” I try to stand, but she grabs my arm to stop me. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m just feeling weak.”
“Did Eddie call you again?” She nods and the anger I felt when Senia’s cheating ex-boyfriend called her last week returns. “You don’t need to be with an asshole. You are beautiful and smart—”
“And I give a mean bj.”
“Exactly. You don’t need a guy who’ll fuck anything with legs. You deserve a guy who’ll worship you.”
“So you think Tristan’s just looking for a fuck?”
I don’t even answer because this question is ridiculous.
“Do you think Chris gave him my number? How did he get my number?”
“I don’t know, but if it was Chris, I’m going to have a talk with him about that.”
“No, don’t get mad at him. I’ll take care of Tristan. I’ll text him a picture of my bunion. He’ll never text me again.”
I try not to laugh because, sadly, I know Tristan is too persistent to be deterred by a picture of her gnarly bunion. Standing from the bed, I make my way to the dresser where she has a picture of the two of us framed in a pink “Best Friends Forever” picture frame. It’s a picture taken last Thanksgiving when her uncle took us to his house in Carolina Beach. I was four months pregnant, so I wore a big T-shirt to hide my bulge and hardly spoke to anyone the whole weekend, afraid they’d hear the betrayal in my voice.
“I’m going to see Abigail on Monday,” I say as I pretend to be interested in the other framed pictures on her dresser.
“What? How did this happen? Oh, my goodness, Claire! Are you sure this is what you want?”
She leaps off the bed and rushes to my side.
I pause a moment before I look up into her eyes and respond firmly. “I need to see her, even if it’s just this once. I don’t know if I can even explain to you the ache I feel inside. It’s excruciating and it consumes me, day and night. I just want to see her.”
“You don’t think it might make it worse?”
“I don’t know, but this is not the kind of thing I want to play it safe with. This is my daughter. I’ve never seen her and I already feel like I might die without her. I just need to see her, at least once. I need to know that she’s real. I need to see this beautiful person that Chris and I created.” I pause to wipe the tears from my face. “I don’t know if you can understand that, but that’s how I feel. It’s what I need.”
She stares at me for a moment and her big brown eyes shine as if she’s hatching a devious plan inside her twisted mind. “Claire, I’ve known you long enough to know that you wouldn’t do this unless it was right for you. You have some kind of weird radar for that shit. I also think that I may have misjudged Chris.”
“Are you being serious?”
“Yes, I was pissed about the fact that he never got in touch with you all those months you were living here, but I think I just realized something and I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.” She pauses as she takes a breath and steels herself to speak whatever words she’s about to say. “I think you needed Adam to show you how much you still love Chris.”
That is not at all what I expected her to say and I’m actually a little pissed. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to say that Adam was a stepping-stone.”
“I don’t want to hear this. Can we just go downstairs?”
She nods and hangs her head apologetically, but I’m still upset with her. I clench my jaw to keep from uttering an angry retort. Adam was not a stepping-stone.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and follow Senia out of the bedroom. I open my message app and look at the last text I received from Adam.
Adam: I’ll be in Carolina Beach with family tomorrow, but first I’m stopping by Cora’s. I’ll be thinking of you.
I’m not sure if he remembers telling me that Lindsay’s family lives in Carolina Beach, but I know that his dad and mom live in Wilmington. I’m sure he’s probably referring to another relative. He has a million aunts, uncles, and cousins. I just wish I didn’t have this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I think of this text.
I don’t think Adam would ever lie to me, but I get the feeling there’s something he’s not telling me. When I asked him why Lindsay called him while we were at the football game, he told me that she needed a ride to the emergency room and her boyfriend was out of town. I didn’t ask him what was wrong with her because something about the way he said it so abruptly made me feel like he didn’t want to talk about it.
Adam has never wanted to talk about Lindsay, but I never pushed him to because I didn’t really want to talk about Chris either. But things have changed. If we’re supposed to be trying to work things out, we should be offering ourselves to each other completely. Instead, we’re having awkward dates and awkward conversations that go nowhere.
Thanksgiving dinner is served buffet-style at Senia’s house, and the buffet line snakes through the kitchen as everyone grabs food from all the dishes on the counter. Thanksgiving went from being my least favorite holiday to my favorite holiday after I moved in with Jackie and Chris. Jackie is the best cook and baker in the world, so the extra five to ten pounds I inevitably gained during the holidays were always worth it. Nancy’s a great cook, too, but she doesn’t cook the same foods Jackie does; the foods I’ve come to associate with love and family.
I heap mashed potatoes, turkey, Nancy’s famous roast pork, a corn on the cob, and some pumpkin pie onto my plate then I follow Senia to the stairs where we eat with our plates in our lap because there aren’t enough chairs at the table for us.
“Claire, long time no see.”
Looking up from my half-eaten plate of food, I find Senia’s cousin Nico. He’s carrying his baby boy, whose name I can’t recall at the moment. Nico’s wife was pregnant at the same time as I was when I lived with Senia. They all knew I was going to give up my baby. Senia told them all so they wouldn’t ask me about baby names and gender and all that stuff.