Chasing Abby(28)

Chris holds my elbow as I descend the last few stairs, then I push him away as I take a step toward her. She looks unsure and I’m so afraid of scaring her away. But I have to say what I’ve been wanting to say.
I take another step toward her, making no attempt to wipe the tears as they slide down my cheeks. I look her in the eye and her lip trembles as the tears begin to fall.
Chris was right. Even with Chris’s brown eyes and his nose, she looks like me. It’s her blonde hair, the shape of her face, and the uncertainty in her eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
I don’t know any other way to apologize for the choice I made. A choice she probably knows nothing about. But it’s all I want to say. It’s the one thing I think she’s probably needed to hear from the moment she found out she was adopted.
I wish I knew how she found out. I want to know everything about her and I want her to know everything about us. If I’m being perfectly honest, I want to pretend like the last eighteen years never happened. Like she’s been with us all along. I know that can never happen, but I want to believe that this gulf between us is not permanent.
I reach forward slowly until my hand is suspended halfway between us. She stares at it unblinking, her whole body quivering like a leaf. And she’s about as thin as one. She’s smaller than me and I’m only five-foot-six. I press my lips together as I think of how this is probably due to her heart problems.
The house is so quiet as I wait for her to take my hand or not. Finally, her hand inches forward, slowly, through the distance between us, through the years that have separated us.
I take her hand in mine and she looks up at me, unsure what to do.
I can’t shake my daughter’s hand. That would be cold, especially when I haven’t seen her in more than seventeen years. But am I allowed to think of Abby as my daughter?
I don’t know the answer to that question, and I don’t care. I pull her into my arms and she lets out a soft puff of air as I squeeze her tight, as if she were holding her breath.
She’s so thin, but soft and warm, just the way I remember her. And she smells like a peach blossom. She buries her face in my shoulder, her shoulders bouncing as she sobs silently. I hold on tighter, hoping I can convey how much I’ve longed for this moment.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I whisper. “I’m so happy you came… So happy.”
Something about these words causes a shift and her sobbing stops. She draws in a long, stuttered breath, then she pulls away from me. The whites of her eyes are so red it makes my heart ache.
She takes a step back, shaking her head as her gaze falls to the floor. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
Chris steps forward so he’s at my side. “That’s okay. We know this must be very difficult for you.” He looks over his shoulder at Junior and snaps his fingers. “Go upstairs and get your brother.”
Abby glances up from the floor every few seconds to look at Chris and I think I know what she’s thinking.
“Abigail, you probably don’t understand any of this right now,” I begin, desperation taking hold as I try to think of the right thing to say to make her stay. “But I promise I’ll tell you—we’ll tell you anything you want to know. Anything.”
Please just stay.
The young man who came with her steps forward so they’re standing next to each other and she immediately turns into him, as if they’re magnetized. He wraps his arms around her shoulders and she presses her forehead into his chest as she clutches the front of his shirt. I turn away, wishing I could cover my eyes. I can’t watch. It hurts too much to see how much we’ve hurt her.
Chris comes up behind me and gently grasps my arms to turn me around, so I can face Abby again. To face what we’ve done. What I did.