Chapter 11 #3
Her eyes water, leak tears. Her voice is thick and tight with emotion.
"I went into labor on July first. My water broke at ten p.m., and I was in labor for twenty hours.
The baby was born on July third at eight-oh-five in the morning.
She weighed seven pounds and nine ounces, and was eighteen inches long. "
"She?" My voice cracks. "Lacey, what—ah…what are you saying?" I can't breathe.
Dark dots dance in my vision. I set my mug aside before I drop it.
She finds my eyes. "I'm saying you have a daughter, Cole. She's fourteen. She lives with her adoptive parents, Adam and Kelly Emory. Her name is Maia. She's in eighth grade, she does theater, and she's on the track team."
The spots multiply and I realize I'm not breathing. I can't. My chest is a frozen block of concrete. I feel Lacey's hand on my back, hear her voice. "Breathe, Cole. Take a breath for me."
I shake my head, tipping forward to hang my head between my knees. Her hand rubs over my shoulder blades, massages my nape, trails through my hair. And for some reason, it helps. Her touch melts the ice, and I suck in a shaky, trembling breath.
"I have a daughter."
"Maia."
"Maia." I shake my head in a futile attempt to clear it of the shock. "You…have you met her? What does she look like? Does she know she's adopted? What are her parents like?"
Lacey sniffs a laugh. "Slow down, babe. One question at a time."
"I'm sorry, I just…it's kind of a lot to take in."
She gives me a look. "Do you have your phone?"
"It's plugged in upstairs," I answer.
"Go get it. I only have a burner dumb phone right now. It's a long story, but I didn't want my ex following me."
I trot upstairs, grab my phone, and return to the den.
Unlock the device and give it to Lacey, who opens a browser, signs into her Instagram, and navigates to people she follows, then brings up an account with the handle Maia__Em__777.
The girl in the account is a young teenage girl, tall and willowy with blonde hair and light blue eyes.
The first—most recent—photo is a selfie of Maia with four other girls.
It looks like it was taken at an outdoor courtyard or lunchroom.
The caption is just a bunch of emojis which I assume means something to her and her friends but means nothing to me.
I know which one is Maia instantly, even though all five girls are white and blonde and nearly identical-looking.
Maia has Lacey's eyes—the same exact shade of cornflower blue, same shape, same crinkle at the corners when she smiles. She has my nose, and I see my father's chin, Lacey’s mother’s small, dainty ears and high cheekbones.
"She's beautiful," I whisper.
I scroll through her feed—a carefully curated look at her life, which seems to revolve around running, K-Pop, Taylor Swift, musical theater, the same four girls, and her parents.
There are reels of her warming up before a meet, doing high knees while cackling with her teammates, a teary-eyed video monologue about a boy who shall remain nameless who doesn’t deserve to live for breaking her heart—spoiler alert, the very next post is about the boy, Jake, who she does name, and who, it turns out, cheated on her with a high school sophomore.
There are videos of her competing. Photos of her after meets with medals.
Selfies at concerts. Selfies with friends on a sidewalk, each girl with a fancy frozen coffee drink.
Selfies of her with her parents in a booth at a restaurant—a Mexican place, judging by the bowls of salsa and wax-paper-lined red plastic bowls of tortilla chips.
Her parents are both dark-haired; Adam is a few years older than me, with salt-and-pepper hair worn long in a manbun, and Kelly is about the same age with a glossy black razor bob and a septum piercing.
"She knows she's adopted," Lacey says. "I haven’t met her yet.
" A pause. "I, uh. A few months before I found out about Eddie and the nineteen-year-old, I actually reached out to them.
That's how I have that account. She…she said she'd be willing to meet me someday.
It was a brief exchange of emails—I reached out to her parents, and they gave my info to Maia so she could decide what she wanted to do.
I emailed with her a couple of times, but that's it. "
The initial shock has faded a touch, but I'm still reeling. "Are you going to meet her?"
She shrugs. "I couldn't decide. I want to, but I'm scared. I don't know. And then everything happened with Eddie and now I'm up here.”
"She lives down there?"
Lacey nods. "Yeah. In Birmingham."
"Looks like she has a nice life."
Lacey nods again, eyes watery. "She does.
Adam and Kelly are a lovely couple. She had cancer and had to have a hysterectomy.
They spent four years waiting for the right match at the right time.
It was an open adoption." She blinks a few times, wipes a foreknuckle under her eyelids, sniffling.
"I held her just once. She was still all messy.
I…I told her…" She blinks again, shuddering, and then starts over.
"I told her that her new parents would give her a better life than I could.
That I was doing it because I love her."
"That was the hardest thing, then," I say.
She glances at me. "Hmmm?"
"You said walking away from me was the second hardest thing you've ever done. Giving up Maia was the hardest, I assume."
"So much harder than I thought it would be. I knew I wasn't ready to be a mom. I knew it was the right thing to do. The whole pregnancy, I was focused on what I’d do with my life after. Without the baby. I…I guess I knew it would be hard, but I don’t think I really believed that.
Like deep down, I thought it would be easier than it was.
But I…I grew her and carried her inside my body.
I talked to her while she was in the womb.
And then I spent twenty hours pushing, and she came out perfect and beautiful.
And…and I wondered. I thought—maybe. You know?
I loved her instantly. The second I saw her I just…
" she trails off, voice wet and thick. "I loved her so fucking much, and I thought, just for a second, that I could take her with me.
Come back up here. Tell you everything. I could be with you.
I knew—I knew you'd take me back. You'd take care of me—of us… "
"Lacey, if you had—"
"If I had, we wouldn't have made it, most likely.
I don't know. It doesn't matter—I didn't keep her.
The social worker came and asked if I was ready.
" Her voice breaks. "And I let her go. I let her go.
I watched the social worker walk away with my daughter—our daughter.
" She shakes her head. "I've wondered every single day since then if I made the right choice for her.
For you. For me. I…I don't expect you to forgive me, Cole.
I took the choice away from you. You've lost out on fourteen years of knowing you have a daughter.
I don't…I don't know what you'd have done with that knowledge other than question all of your life choices every minute of every day, like I have. "
"Ohhhhh god, Lacey."
Her eyes squeeze shut and tears trickle down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Cole. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."
And then she dissolves into sobs, and the only thing I know to do is pull her onto my lap.
This gets her attention. "How can you stand to look at me? Didn't you hear what I just said?"
I cup her cheek. "Of course. I heard every word."
"But—"
"I forgive you, Lacey."