The Kindest Lie(76)
“I know, I know. Well, if this is true, we got to go.”
“Go where?”
“To his house.”
The way Natasha said to his house tickled and scared her all at once. She spoke the words slowly and deliberately, as if Ruth were having trouble comprehending. Her friend had always been the spontaneous one, boldly telling boys she had crushes on them and borrowing the school van for a joy ride. Growing up, Natasha’s spontaneity often pushed Ruth to move when her natural inclination would have been to proceed with caution or just wait.
Ruth stood and paced in a small circle at the foot of her friend’s bed. She nervously ran her fingers over the buttons of her cardigan as queasiness rocked her stomach.
The small pleasure of repeating Corey’s name aloud to herself had felt oddly comforting. But until now, Ruth hadn’t allowed herself to carefully consider the last name of Cunningham or the people who belonged to that name, the people raising her son, and the house where they all lived together on some street right here in Ganton. The euphoria Ruth had felt knowing her son’s name after all these years was starting to fade like a narcotic wearing off.
“Pump the brakes. I haven’t decided yet what I’m going to do.” Ruth fell onto the bed again, with her hands covering her face.
Natasha stretched out beside her with Camila bouncing on the bed. “I hear you, girl. I didn’t mean to push.”
Ruth exhaled. “I just need more time. Also, I did some research online based on what you said about that lawyer getting arrested for adoption fraud.”
Propping on her elbow, Natasha said, “What did you find out?”
“I think I know the name of the guy you remember from the news. Does ‘Stanley DeAngelo’ ring a bell?”
Natasha massaged her forehead. “Girl, you know I’m bad with names. I just know there was a shady lawyer in town who got caught for all kinds of crimes.”
“Yeah, I looked into it and DeAngelo kept coming up in my search. Well, he’s out of prison now. He got out a year ago and is living over on Wayland. I can’t help but think he was involved with Corey’s adoption. If so, did he do this whole thing off the books?”
Natasha shifted her position on the bed and absently stroked her daughter’s hair. “I get it. You need to know what’s up, and if it wasn’t legal, maybe you got some options.”
The implication of Natasha’s words settled within Ruth. If the adoption was indeed fraudulent, she might have rights to Corey as his biological mother. But for now, she only wanted to focus on getting to know her son and learning about his life.
“This is all so new and I’m just trying to figure it all out. Now, tell me what they’re like. The Cunninghams.” Using their last name and avoiding the word parents was the easier way to talk about these people who were raising her baby.
“They’re all right. They got good jobs. They’re good people. Live over on Hill Top. Let me put it like this. They’re like a knockoff version of the Huxtables.”
“I’m glad. At least Corey’s not being raised in Grundy.” The scream of a passing police siren punctuated Ruth’s statement and she immediately regretted her words. Natasha rolled away from her on the bed and sat up.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean? You’re in my house right now. In Grundy. Your grandmother and brother live in this neighborhood. You were raised right here in Grundy.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“What did you mean, then?” Natasha said, indignation baked into her raised voice.
Camila climbed onto her mother’s lap and waved the doll in her face. “What’s wrong, Mommy?”
“Nothing, sweetheart.” She rested her forehead against her daughter’s and smiled. “I’m just wondering if Mommy’s friend knows where her son goes to school now.”
Pretending she didn’t detect the sarcasm in Natasha’s voice, she said, “Where?”
“Driscoll. Right here in Grundy. The school that wasn’t good enough for you back in the day.”
The public school that used to get all the raggedy books and secondhand furniture, where she and Natasha had met. The one her grandparents pulled her out of to send her to the Catholic school, where it was okay to be smart and girls wore pleated skirts every day.
“Are we really going to get into it over grade schools right now?” Ruth said, anxious to change the subject.
Her friend closed her eyes. “Things were just so different for you and me. I can’t pretend that it doesn’t matter. And look at you now. Your big fancy city life.”
Natasha’s parents both worked for the city utilities company, but they had never married. Her father wanted and tried to be part of Natasha’s life, but her mother wouldn’t let him. Growing up, Natasha rarely talked about her future, whereas Mama and Papa, though they’d only finished high school, pushed Ruth hard. They told everyone she’d be a doctor someday, and Papa was sure of it when she took such care dispensing his baclofen for spasms and methotrexate for joint pain.
“That was all a long time ago,” Ruth said. “What I do care about is that Corey gets the best education possible.”
“Driscoll’s changed a lot. It’s not like when we were there. They started bringing in kids like Corey from Hill Top and some whites, too, put a little money into it, and now it’s actually a pretty decent school.”