54. Lily
FIFTY-FOUR
LILY
My baby boy clings tightly to my hand as we make our way into Sam and Anna’s house.
I may not ever be able to heal my internal traumas, may spend the rest of my days waking up in cold sweats from the nightmares. But if I can’t heal mine then the best I can hope for is to heal the ones I’ve caused in others.
Besides, dealing with other people’s pain is a distraction from the betrayal of the man who I thought was the one.
Alexander Wells.
Part of me wants to believe, so badly, that he was planning to tell me everything. After all, he gave me his real name. Told me his father was a politician. He shared intimate moments that I refuse to believe were lies. I have to believe that at least some of what he said was honest.
Chase unlocks the front door, and my stomach jumbles like a shuffled deck, nerves wracking through every cell. The walls bleed with a familiarity that assaults my senses, and my muscles tense, preparing to see the closest people I’ve ever had to parents for the first time since I ran away.
We make our way into the living room, and my feet stop short when I see them sitting on the couch, their heads huddled together as they speak in hushed voices. Anna reacts first, her face snapping to Chase, her eyes lighting up as she sees him. And then her head swivels to me, her strawberry-blond hair swishing behind her as her hand covers her mouth.
“Lily,” she breathes.
Her voice is infused with a warmth I don’t deserve, and it stabs at my heart like a hooked knife. We walk farther into the room, my baby boy silent as a lamb, gripping my hand tighter than before.
“Hi, Anna. Sam.”
I want to call them Mom and Dad, the way I used to, but I don’t feel like I deserve it. I’m unsure if they’ll even want me to use the titles after treating them as nothing more than two strangers who were only in my way.
Anna bursts into tears—loud, heaving sobs racking her body as she collapses against Sam. He rubs her back, his eyes on me, wide and glossy.
Baby Chase fidgets, stepping closer.
I pull him along as we take a seat on the couch facing opposite them. And then we wait. I don’t know what to do or say, so I follow Chase’s lead, who is just sitting in silence, letting them cry.
After a few moments, Anna straightens, her shaky hands wiping under her eyes, focusing her attention on me. “I’m sorry for the outburst. It’s just…” Her palm covers her heart. “I never thought I’d see you again, and now that you’re here…” Her forehead wrinkles. “And you look so good, and your baby boy—” Her voice cuts off as she shakes her head. “It’s just a bit overwhelmin’ is all.”
Sam clears his throat. “We’ve been dreaming of this day for a long time.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat, my stomach twisting like a pretzel. “Sorry it took so long,” I whisper.
“We’re just glad you’re here now.” Sam’s eyes move to my son. “And who’s this?”
I smile, peering down at my baby boy. “This is Chase.”
Anna sucks in a breath. “That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful boy,” she says, her voice wavering.
“Chase, this is Sam and Anna. Your grandpa and grandma.”
His eyes grow big and round as he looks at them. “ Mine? Like…to keep?”
My throat clogs, my heart cracking from the simple statement. Sometimes, as an adult, it’s easy to forget how a child views the world. And I’ve never once thought about the fact that he may see grandparents in his cartoons and wonder why he doesn’t get to have them.
I nod, chewing on the inside of my lip and squeezing his hand. “You bet, baby. They’re all yours.” I bop his nose.
He slides off the cushion and walks to the middle of the room, gripping his Spider-Man stuffy to his chest. Anna’s and Sam’s faces mirror each other, eyes wide and teary, anticipation lining all their angles.
“Hi,” Chase says.
Anna’s hands come up to her cheeks, and Sam’s grin is so wide it spreads from ear to ear. “Hi back.”
My baby nods his head, walks over to them, climbs up on the couch, and plops himself right between them.
Always so brave.
Anna’s eyes spark to life, the happiness shining through her blue gaze, soaking us in her joy.
Chase, who’s been sitting in the corner of the room silently up until now, chuckles. “You can’t say he doesn’t have an outgoing personality.” He looks toward me, smirking. “Wonder where he gets it from?”
Anna laughs, her hand smoothing down my baby’s head, and the sight of them together makes my heart somersault in my chest, aching for all their missed moments, hoping they’ll get to make up for lost time.
* * *
Two hours later and baby Chase is officially comfortable. He’s gone through the entire history of Spider-Man, and then Anna brought out the family photo albums. They’re flipping through them as she tells him stories. My eyes snag on one photo in particular of Lee, Becca, and me lying in the grass with cherry popsicles, all three of us grinning ear to ear.
My stomach cramps, grief at the loss of our friendship winding through my muscles. What I wouldn’t give to go back to simpler times.
Chase walks over, grabbing my baby boy at the waist and swinging him up on his shoulders. “Okay, I’m taking this little beast outside to play. Gotta show him the lay of the land, teach him all the good hiding spots.” He grins and winks, walking down the hallway and out the back door.
I know he’s doing it to give us the time alone, and while it needs to happen, it doesn’t make the reality any easier. With both Chases gone, there’s no buffer, and immediately the air in the room grows thick with tension.
Finally, I break the silence. “Thank you,” I say, my fingers twisting around my opposite wrist. “For being so kind to him.”
Anna tilts her head, her lips turning down in the corner. “He’s your baby. And you’re ours. You don’t need to thank us for lovin’ on our family.”
That one sentence is enough to break down my wall of emotion, and tears blur my vision, my hands coming up to cup my face. “I’m so—so sorry,” I stutter through the hiccups.
Sam and Anna move in tandem until they’re flanking me, their arms embracing me like a cocoon. I can feel their breath on the back of my neck as tears seep through my fingers. Anna sniffles next to me, and I relax into their hold, allowing us to have the purge of emotion for all the things none of us know how to say.
And it’s in this moment I know, that even through all the bad choices I’ve made, all the trials and tribulations I’ve been through, God shone a light when he chose them as my parents. I’m lucky to have them, and I promise myself to never take advantage of that knowledge again.
It’s a while later that we finally wipe our faces dry, the weight on my shoulders feeling less burdensome than it has in years.
Anna sighs, sitting back, and running a hand through her strawberry-blond locks. “I have so many things I wanna know, Lily, I won’t lie and say I don’t. And you hurt us when you left. You…” She purses her lips. “For years, I’ve felt like we failed you as parents. That maybe we selfishly made the choice to adopt you because we wanted you so badly. Because we loved you so much. I’ve struggled with the idea that we weren’t what you needed. And I’m so sorry if we ever made you feel like you couldn’t come to us.”
My chest tightens, and I reach out, gripping her hand in mine.
“But I want,” she continues, “I need you to know we aren’t mad at you, honey. We’re so, so proud of who you’ve become, and we’re so happy to have you back.”
Her love and acceptance wrap around me. “It’s hard for me.” I pause, glancing down at my lap, trying to find the right words to say. “It’s hard for me to talk about things, but I want to. I do. And I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t good parents. You’ve always been the only parents I’ve ever dreamed of having. My demons are from before our time together.”
Anna squeezes her eyes shut, her jaw clenching. Sam’s hand stops on my back. “And I can’t talk about it out loud. Not yet. But I want to try.”
“Okay.” Anna nods. “Okay.”
“I’m…” My voice catches on the knot in my throat, and I swallow, trying again. “I’m gonna go to therapy with Chase. And I thought…I thought maybe you two would like to come sometime?”
Anna smiles as wetness lines her lower lids, and Sam’s hand comes up to smooth down my hair. “Of course we will,” he says.
They don’t ask any more questions, even though I’m sure they’re dying to know.
They don’t badger me with guilt or with blame.
They just surround me with their love, and for the first time since I was that little girl hula-hooping in the front yard, I feel a little bit of hope clinging to me like a second skin. And I like the way it feels.