Far from the Tree(94)

“I love it,” he says, because he does. “Thanks, Bird.”

“Of course,” she says, and then she hesitates before saying, “It looks like a great party.”

“Joaquin!” someone yells from outside. “We’re taking a group photo, c’mon.”

Joaquin looks at Birdie, and she looks up at him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“You really hurt me, Joaquin,” she whispers back. “I mean, really hurt me.”

“I know,” Joaquin says. “I’m so sorry, Bird.”

“It’s just that every time I think about not having you in my life, it doesn’t feel right, you know? It’s like there’s a piece missing.” Birdie is wringing her hands in front of her. Joaquin wonders if they’re still cold, wants to reach out and hold them in his own hands. “I don’t know how you fit back in my life, if you’re a friend or my boyfriend or what, but I just know that you fit.”

Joaquin nods. “Okay,” he says, because it is okay. It will be okay. “We can talk, maybe? Tomorrow?”

“Joaquin!” Mark’s yelling from outside. “C’mon, group photo!

Both of their heads swivel toward the back door.

“Go, go,” Birdie says. “It’s your party—we can talk later.”

Joaquin just holds his hand out to her. “C’mon,” he says.

She smiles as he reaches down to take her hand, then leads her out to the lawn. The photographer arranges their whole group, even the mariachis, and Joaquin stands between Birdie and his sisters and his aunt and his parents, and he thinks of Melissa.

He hopes she can see him, because he sees her now. He sees her every single day.

He hopes he can make her proud.

“Okay, on the count of three!” the photographer shouts. “One, two—”

“Three!” everybody cries.

Joaquin thinks it just might be a photo worth saving.





GRACE


Grace pulls into the parking lot of the park two minutes early.

Her phone buzzes. It’s Rafe.

They bet $20?!?!?!

I know, right? Grace texts back.

I want a cut.

I’ll let Maya know.

You there yet?

Just parked.

Okay. Call me later if you want.

Okay. I like you.

I like you, too.

Grace gets out of the car and tucks the phone into her back pocket. She doesn’t know if she’s scared or nervous or just plain terrified, but there’s no going back now. She met with her birth mother support group a few days earlier, telling them about the upcoming meeting with a voice that didn’t shake or tremble. She had thought that she would never be able to talk about Peach with strangers, but the girls in her group understood.

At first, her parents were speechless that she had gone looking for Melissa without telling them. “We said that we would help you!” they cried the next day, after Joaquin had gone home with Mark and Linda and Maya had disappeared down the street, refusing a ride from everyone.

But then they talked, Grace’s guard worn away by exhaustion and relief and gratitude. She had taken a picture of Melissa from Joaquin’s collection, and when she put it on the table between her and her parents, their anger died away and they looked at the photo, silent.

They started talking more after that.

Grace’s parents told her what it had been like to bring her home as a brand-new infant, the worry that Melissa would take her back. “We had to wait ninety days before the adoption was official back then,” Grace’s mother said, and Grace noticed for the first time that the straw in her iced tea was chewed into ribbons. “We just didn’t want to lose you, not after finally getting you.”

Grace understood. She knows what it’s like now, to lose one thing and gain something else entirely. She knows how hard she will hold on to the things she has, the brother and sister who fill a new place in her life. The spot where Peach was is still there, still open and hollow, but there are new chambers in her heart that fill her up, make her feel whole in a way she didn’t before.

Every night, she sends a small thank-you to Melissa for choosing these two people to be her parents.

Grace hasn’t seen Max in months, hasn’t heard much about him, either. It’s still hard to think about him, but mostly she just feels sad for him. She’s thought about what she would say to him. She sometimes makes epic speeches in the shower about how “one day, she might come looking for you, and she might have questions, and then you can explain everything to her, so save your apologies because I don’t need them, but you might!” Sometimes she cries, and sometimes she’s angry, but mostly it just feels good to let Max go, to move forward, to move on.

Grace sits in the parking lot, looking out at the grassy park in front of her. Her phone buzzes again and she looks down at it to see a text message from Maya.

Good luck! it says, followed by two thumbs-up symbols.

Yeah, good luck! Joaquin’s message follows right after. Call us later.

I will, Grace types back, her hands shaking a little and making it hard to press the correct keys. She sends three hearts back to them, then gets out of the car. Her hands are sweaty, and she wipes them quickly on her jeans before walking with trembling knees toward the park. It’s a beautiful day, at least. Grace doesn’t think she’s ever seen such a blue sky before.