Vanessa takes a breath

Vanessa took a deep breath. 

“It’s just I found I had a question- an important question and-“she trailed off as she tried to find the words to ask it one more time. She held up a hand to forestall another interruption.  “I realized that asking the question over the phone was not appropriate or the right thing to do, but the feeling had gotten out of hand and I got mad at myself and well, you know the rest. I am so sorry about hanging up on you but I was trying not to lose my cool and failing miserably so I knew I had to do it in person… I am sorry that I upset you Mom…Dad.”

“Apology accepted.” Her mother said looking relieved. The moment had passed and she was calm almost serene. “Now, what was the question?”

“Well.” Vanessa started then stopped not sure how to proceed. “Was I a-“the word would not come out right, it sounded to foreign, almost obscene?

“Yes?”

Why couldn’t she just ask? Why did she feel like she was somehow betraying all she had known? The same frustration threatened to engulf her as she sat there twisting her bangs. Yes, she had reached up and was nervously twisting her bangs like a teenager!

“Were you what, dear?” Her mother leaned forward as if to stand.

“This man came to my office today.” She pulled her hands down to her lap with sheer force of will. “This man came to my office today and he told me…. (dammit all over again) I was- am I adopted?”

There, now, was that so hard she chided herself. Vanessa nodded in satisfaction that she had managed to ask finally. She straightened the towel then realized she wasn’t looking at her parents, she had only asked the question by looking down at the floor, fervently hoping the answer would be no. She made herself look at them, her mother and father. When she did, she was struck by the mortality that she saw in them. She realized then she had never thought of them as mortal and fragile beings but now she could see that the question was a hard one. Her father’s eyes were wide in his face, she could see wrinkle lines on the edges of his face, his widow’s peak was more pronounced and the gray hair seemed to be announcing itself to the world.

Oh daddy, I am so sorry, she wanted to say and have him pick her up and toss her into the air as if she were five again. She didn’t, but she made herself look at her mother. Her mother had not changed so much as her father, but her mouth working up and down was less like sputtering as much as it was like an old cow chewing cud- no sound came from it so the bovine metaphor stuck and grew eerie as she waited for them to say something, anything.

“What man?” her father managed to say after a lifetime had passed and his eyes had narrowed again.

“I am not sure who he was, but I felt-like, like I might have known him once or rather like I should have known him a long time ago before. Before I came here.”

“Where is this coming from Van? Her mother interrupted

“Is it true?” She heard a small girl ask softly.

“Van.” Her mother said, dripping with practicality and correction, “some strange man comes in out of the blue and strolls into your office and suddenly you have doubts about who you are – what you are?”

“Is it true?” she asked again, but she already knew the answer, there had been no mistake, she felt a sudden pressure in her chest, but she had to hear them say it.

“Does it matter?” her father spoke into the silence “After all this time, does it matter?”

“Yes. She almost whispered. “It matters.”

“Well, you can hardly expect us to-“her mother began again.

But Vanessa knew as well as if they both had broadcasted it over the TV. She knew the truth of it even as the tears began to slide down her cheeks. This woman who sat across from her filled with indignation and outrage was not her mother. Even though she had comforted her and held her when her brothers- not the boys who she had thought-believed to be her brothers had hurt her feelings.  This woman was suddenly as strange as the man, Quest had seemed.

“Is it true!” She said and thought she had screamed it because her mother stopped mid sentence and gaped at her.

“Yes.” Her father, not the man she had thought was her father said. The look in his eyes told her that it had cost him his entire parenthood to say it. She wondered if she had just sacrificed the only father she had ever known for the answer.

“Now.” He said with finality. “Who was this man?”

“I don’t know.” She began but something tickled the base of her memory “he said he had known me- well rather that I had known him when I was four.”

“Four?” Her mother- Margaret repeated.

Then the memory came.