Somewhere Out There(22)
Gina tried to explain what was happening. She dropped down, squatting next to Brooke, and looked her straight in the eye. “I know it’s hard, sweetie. But believe me, I’m going to do everything I can to help you two find another home to be in together. Right now, though, you have to be away from each other a bit. You still can see her every day while you’re here. Okay?”
Brooke bit her bottom lip and nodded, slowly. Gina was nice, even if she was the one who took her from her mom. Thoughts of her mother stung like tiny splinters trapped beneath Brooke’s skin. Sometimes she picked at them, trying to dislodge the pain of missing her. Brooke didn’t understand why her mom hadn’t come to get them yet, why her time-out was lasting so long.
Gina led her around the building, and Brooke was relieved to see the cafeteria, where other children sat at long rectangular tables, eating from trays filled with spaghetti and green beans. It seemed like eating was the only thing Brooke could think about since she’d begun having regular meals with Rose and Walter. Now that she was somewhere new, she had worried it might be like living in her mom’s car again, and the gnawing ache in her belly would come back. One of the first things she had done at Rose and Walter’s house was to stand in the middle of the pantry, touching all the boxes and cans of food, counting them. “This is for us?” she asked Rose, her voice edged with wonder. “Pineapple and spaghetti? We get to eat it?”
“Yes,” Rose had said, gently. But after they’d stayed there a few weeks and she discovered that, not for the first time, Brooke had hidden a jar of peaches and packages of cookies and crackers under her bed, Rose got angry. “We feed you more than enough. You don’t have to take it.”
Brooke didn’t know how to explain why she took the food—she only knew that she found herself sneaking into the pantry every night, stealing away bits of anything she could save for later, just in case. After that, when Gina came to get Brooke and Natalie from the house, Brooke knew it was her fault, even though Gina told her it was because Walter’s boss had unexpectedly transferred his job to another state.
She thought it was her fault, too, when two weeks later, Gina had returned to Hillcrest to inform her that her baby sister was being adopted. “We are?” Brooke asked, confused by the way Gina shook her head and frowned.
“She is,” Gina said. “Only Natalie. I’m sorry, honey. For now, you’re going to stay here.”
Thirty-five years later, Brooke recalled the cloudy, fractured moments of that morning at Hillcrest. If she wanted to—if she let them escape—she could still feel the rough sobs that tore at her chest when Gina told her she wouldn’t get to see Natalie anymore. Back then, she didn’t understand that most couples looking to adopt only wanted babies, not older children, like Brooke, who were more likely to have behavioral issues. It was only 1980, and the system was less likely to take into account how important sibling bonds were for healthy development. She remembered the last time she saw her baby sister, in a room not much different from the one where they’d last seen their mother. She remembered Natalie’s big, brown eyes and wispy blond curls, her chubby pink cheeks and the way she grabbed Brooke by the ears and gave her gummy and wet, openmouthed kisses.
“I love you,” Brooke said, just before Gina took Natalie away. Brooke tucked her treasured purple blanket snug around her sister and then, just like their mother, Natalie disappeared.
Thinking of that moment now, Brooke tried to distract herself by heading into the bathroom to shower. She had an appointment at the women’s health clinic at eleven, and it was already nine thirty. As she let the warm water rush over her, she considered her options. It had been a week since she realized she was late, which meant she had plenty of time to figure out her next step, but so far, the only thing she had decided to do was make this appointment to confirm the results of the home tests.
Two hours later, after taking yet another test at the clinic, Brooke sat in a small office with a woman named Jill, who couldn’t have been more than a day over twenty-five.
“So,” Jill said. “You’re definitely pregnant.” Her bright eyes and positive, bubbly demeanor made Brooke think she probably had been a cheerleader. Jill glanced down at the chart in front of her. “About eight weeks along, according to when you had your last period?”
“I think so, yes,” Brooke said, holding her hands together tightly in her lap. Her stomach growled; she’d been too queasy to eat before she came. Now she was ravenous. She wished she’d thought to bring along a snack.
“Have you informed the father?” Jill held a pen with her right hand, poising it over the paper in front of her.
“No.” Brooke purposely hadn’t seen Ryan that week, telling him she had a stomach bug and didn’t want him to get sick, too. Wrapped up in finishing a big job on a high-rise condo project, he hadn’t pushed the issue. “Call me when you’re feeling better,” he said, and later that night, when she came home from an office-cleaning job, he’d had her favorite hot and sour soup delivered from a Thai restaurant down the street. A sweet gesture, to be sure, but a small part of Brooke couldn’t help but wish he’d shown up to deliver it himself. She couldn’t help but feel that if he really cared about her, her germs wouldn’t matter. Having this thought surprised her—she’d never been a needy girlfriend—but something about the idea of carrying Ryan’s baby made her wish that they were closer—that the minute she’d taken those tests, she could have called him and told him the news. She wished she had it in her to admit to how scared she was—to ask him to comfort her and help her make the right decision. Instead, she kept silent, clenching her jaw as she made the appointment at the clinic.