Dessert.

The family was inside. If you watched from just outside their window, you could almost hear their conversation. The words weren’t of much importance though, because she sat there. Comfortable, eating her food with her family. Laughing. Laughing like she never had, not at that age anyway. Looking through the window she wondered. When her daughter looked at her, would she smile? Look at her adoptive parents and say: ‘I knew it! I never truly felt at home.’ Would she run into her mother’s arms, kiss and hug her just getting out the words, ‘You never should have let me go, but I forgive you.’

Maybe she didn’t know, that she was adopted. Maybe all she knew was that she had lived this happy, perfect life of many more sunset dinners and Sunday dusting – they seemed like that type of family. Joint at the hip, coming together for all their activities …even cleaning. She laughed at herself watching them and let her mind spiral. She stood up with her plate, she was collecting her parents’ plates too. Dinner was over.

She couldn’t believe how quickly that went by. She had been here (lurking at the window) for a while. She tore her eyes away from the window. Her heart started beating. She inhaled and exhaled slowly as she tried to calm herself down walking up to the door. It had a doorbell. She would press the doorbell her daughter would answer and she would calmly explain -no tears. She pressed. Nothing happened, she couldn’t here it buzz or ring or anything. She pushed it in a state of panic a few more times. Again, she inhaled and exhaled soothing herself, attempting to anyway. She knocked on the door, it was a harsh loud knock. Louder than she had intended. It seemed to pound at her very core, the house shaking in response. The door opened, there was a wave of warm air and sweet joy that wafted to her nose from the open door. The cheerful smile mid-sentence that answered the door immediately stopped and fell. Yes, it is me you horrid – She stopped the angering train of thought. Her daughter’s other mother stood in front of her. ‘What are y-’ She answered before the woman could even get the words out. ‘She’s eighteen now.’ They stood in silence neither one knowing how to progress. ‘You know what, I like the apple pie best mom!’ Her daughter yelled from the kitchen. ‘And Dad totally agrees with me.’ She said with a giggle. ‘Sorry! She backed me into a corner!’ He yelled across as the two of them laughed from the kitchen. Their eyes darted back and forth to the direction of the kitchen and one another. ‘Go.’ Her mother’s eyes pleaded guiltily. ‘No.’ Her eyes roughly responded. So, they stood, quiet again. In Limbo not knowing what the right words w- ‘Mom?’ Her daughter turned the kitchen corner and caught a glimpse of them. We’ve been caught. She’s looking at us weird, she knows everything. What’s next? The hug, the questions? Neither I guess. She’s not looking at the lady outside her door full of hope and fresh desire for parental affection. She’s looking at her mother, they can communicate just with their eyes. Who’s this weirdo at the door and why is no one talking? Her mother’s jolts almost instantly receiving the message. ‘Sweetheart, this is a lady who has come to say hello, she and I used t-’ Lie. Lie. Lie. Nope, I won’t be your accomplice. She cut her off just as the lies were starting to take shape. ‘I’m your mother. I gave birth to you.’ Those are two different statements, but they were out now. She was old enough, smart enough to join the dots. Now there were three quiet people in the room. Que the fourth. Entry, continuous pie joke, stops dead, shock, horror si- Looks like the fourth times the charm. ‘I think some sort of planning or warning would have been nice.’ ‘Gave you one 17 years ago.’ Quick snarky response. Point to the biological mom, it’s two against one she’s definitely going to have to hold her own. Her daughter shot her a look. She couldn’t read her. She looked away again. That wasn’t a good sign. She looked to her father, ‘She’s my biological mother?’ He nodded sweetly towards her. She nodded her head slowly as she turned to face her newly recognized mother. There were words in-between the movements, discussions that had been had about adoption, about the responses they would have. So many that they had forgotten to verbalize now that it was all happening. The well oiled machine stepped towards her and all joined, they had had their oil now they were moving. ‘Can I come in?’ She asked hoping to get some momentum. ‘Let’s actually go out for dessert.’ The verbal part said. Part 2 and 3 nodded. Even smiled a little. Part nothing looked around, thought she should respond but they hadn’t been speaking to her. They were locking up the door and pushing her forward.

The restaurant was nearby. It was small, cute. Fun and happy, like this family. The other mother spoke to her as they walked down the street. ‘We told her when she was 15, but I think it’s one thing to hear it and another to be there in the moment.’ She smiled and nodded and looked back at her daughter. She was whispering with her father; he had his arm around her. Comforting her? About what? ‘We’ll let the two of you grab dessert her and we’ll see you at home.’ Bothe mothers were surprised and apprehensive about this idea but they didn’t voice alternative suggestion. She grabbed her husband’s hand and they hugged their daughter, kissed her on the cheek, spoke a little and let her go. ‘My parents love this place; I’ve never actually been here before… I have wanted to try it out so I guess your timing is perfect.’ Her words were detached and unbelievable. She was having dinner. She had wanted to have dinner, eat her apple pie and go to bed then you showed up. She was sweet, verbal too like her father. ‘When they told me it was weird, don’t get me wrong but I didn’t really have to deal with because- well just because. Let’s slide into this booth.’ She loved this, listening to her daughter talk, ramble. She carried herself with this ease this confidence that she had never had. ‘You were young so you know I guess I can understand…’ She didn’t finish this sentence off with more words and a way to make this woman feel less guilty. She didn’t understand and she wasn’t as willing as her other mother to develop a lie. After taking their orders of the sour apple tart and the death by chocolate brownie a woman walked in that caught her daughter’s eye. She immediately stood up. They hadn’t had much time to speak, not that much would’ve been said. Her smile was on, her arms stretching wide to envelope this jolly old woman. They stopped at their booth. ‘This is Mrs. Reid. I tutor her son over the weekends. In piano.’ She nodded and wave at the new person distantly. She plays piano, she’s really friendly and happy. She reminded herself that this is why she sent her a daughter away, to have better than she did, but she couldn’t help the pangs she felt, every smile, show of happiness expressed itself t her as Ha. Did it without you. ‘Is this your sister?’ The woman asked politely. She smiled and shook her head. Her daughter laughed. ‘This is my… mother.’ She said it as a question but she said it. This was the opening. Take the words and run with them. ‘Yep.’ She answered, though the question didn’t need one. The woman gushed. ‘I’m glad we finally met; I can finally tell someone other than my husband how great she is.’ All three of them laughed, and breathed in the fresh release of a clean slate. ‘I mean hey, you don’t have to tell me.’ Oh, so developing a lie is fine when it’s you? If her daughter felt something she didn’t express it, just softly smiled. Mrs. Reid went on, ‘I’ve actually been telling her for weeks that I’ve got to meet the woman who made and cultivated such a gem.’ She spoke so fondly, so knowingly. Her daughter was watching her as she agreed and smiled and laughed and talked about how important it is to be a great example for your children. And she agreed. The woman spotted her friend she’d come to meet and bid them farewell. Their dessert arrived just in time for the loud wave of silence to engulf them. It wasn’t just quiet, it was heavy. She took a bite of her brownie, It was thick, suffocating and slimy.