49. Bonus
Bonus
Landon gets Grandparents
Landon
I’ve had a dad since I was born. But he wasn’t my real dad.
Not my deep-down-in-my-heart dad. And you know what?
I think I always knew that. Deep down. In that spot at the bottom of your heart.
It’s the spot that ached whenever my mom wasn’t around and I missed her.
Or it’s the spot that ached when I was in the hospital, and I knew she’d been hurt too.
It’s the same spot that got sore whenever Stephen would catch me when I flew at him, and he’d lift me up high, and I’d wish and wish and wish that I could stay that high forever.
Or maybe I just wished that he’d keep picking me up.
But I think my heart knew before my mom told me. I knew that my first dad didn’t make me feel that happy-sadness—not once, not ever—not even when he was gone for a long time or worked so many days I hardly saw him. He was my dad, but I didn’t really know what that meant.
My friends have dads who like to hang out with them, who do things with them, who call me “buddy” when I go to their house. And my uncles are those kinds of dads too—the ones who notice you when you walk in the front door of their house. They pay attention.
I’m glad Stephen got the test right, that he passed it. Now, I have a dad who pays attention, that gives me that happy-sadness ache, except it’s more happy than sad now.
“Can I tell Grandma and Grandpa?” I ask Stephen the day after I find out he’s my real dad.
“Tell them what?” he asks as he cuts off the crust of my sandwich.
“That you’re my real dad. That they’re my real grandparents.”
“You want to tell them?” He raises his eyebrows as he passes me his plate.
I like that he’s always so calm. He never raises his voice at me or my mom.
And when he looks at my mom, it’s like there are beams of light that come out of his eyes, like she’s so important he can’t look away.
I think I look at my mom like that too. We’re the same.
It’s probably because he’s my real dad. My first dad never looked at my mom like that.
He always seemed a little upset with her or with me or with us. Sometimes a lot upset.
“I think they’re going to be really excited. Walter told me that he always wanted a grandson just like me. Can you believe that? And now he has one!”
“I can believe it,” Stephen says, his voice husky.
“So, can I?”
“I’ll have to check with your mom, to make sure it’s okay with her,” Stephen says, ruffling my hair with his hand as we walk to the kitchen table. “But if she doesn’t mind, you can break the news.”
I’m buzzing. A swarm of stingless bees lives inside my chest as we approach the apartment building where Walter and Lorraine sleep. My grandma and grandpa. Even though I know that’s true—that they’re mine—it’s hard to believe it.
As soon as we walk into their room, I’m telling them. Mom said I could, even though she said it was a complicated conversation. I don’t know why. The test was wrong, and now it’s right. That makes sense to me.
Stephen is my dad.
Lorraine and Walter are my grandparents.
Vanessa is my aunt, even if she doesn’t live in the house anymore.
Easy.
For once, Lorraine and Walter aren’t in the garden playing cards, and we knock on the frame of their bedroom suite before walking in.
They are both sitting in chairs watching the TV attached to one of their walls.
When they realize it’s us, they both give me huge smiles, and Walter holds out his arms.
I run over to him, and I throw my arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Then I go to my grandma, and I give her a long hug too.
“You’re never going to believe this,” I say when I step back from my grandma.
“Believe what?” she asks, her eyes twinkling like Stephen’s do when he thinks I’m going to tell a joke.
But this is really real.
“You’re my grandparents,” I say, throwing my arms wide for effect. “Stephen’s my dad. When they were doing the dad test the first time, Stephen didn’t pass, but he did this time. My dad got it right, and the hospital got it right, and now everything is right.”
My grandma and grandpa turn wide eyes to my parents.
“What?” Walter asks.
“It’s true,” I say, not giving a chance for my parents to jump in. “You’re my real grandparents. Not just for now or fake or anything. Real. Really real.”
“Ava’s mother,” Stephen says, “was playing god.”
“What does that mean?” I ask. This is the first time I’ve heard anyone mention Grandma Celia.
“Grandma Celia read the results wrong,” my mom says, shooting a look at Stephen that I don’t understand. “She was part of the reason everything got mixed up.”
Huh. I always thought Grandma Celia could read. I mean, I can read, and I’m not that old. That seems like a pretty big mistake. “Was it in English?”
“Yes,” my mom says with a little laugh. “The test was in English.”
“Landon,” my grandma says, drawing my attention back to them. “We’re thrilled. Absolutely thrilled.”
“You know,” grandpa says, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder with his big hand, “I always suspected you were a Foster.”
I study him for a beat, trying to remember what it was like to walk into their house the first time, when they still lived there. Warm. Comforting. And then when Walter and I played a game for the first time, and I looked across the board at him, he felt like someone I’d known forever.
“I always knew too,” I say with confidence, and everyone in the room lets out a little chuckle. “Why is that funny?” I turn toward my mother.
“What makes you think you knew?”
“Well,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I knew Stephen was my dad because when he was around, I was happy, and when he was gone, even for a little bit, I was sad. I never felt that way about my first dad. And I knew Walter was my grandpa because the first time I met him, it felt like I’d always known him.
Or like I was always supposed to know him. ”
My mom rocks back on her heels, and she splays her hand across her chest. My dad runs a hand along her shoulders and then downward.
I don’t know what I said, but the room has gone a weird kind of quiet.
“Blood recognizes blood,” Lorraine says in a low voice. “Sometimes it is like that. Kin just know.”
“I can call you grandma and grandpa, right?” I ask, looking between them. “Because I really want to call you grandma and grandpa.”
“I’m overjoyed to be your grandfather,” Walter says. “Couldn’t be happier.”
“You’re our first grandchild,” grandma says.
“You can call us whatever you’d like. Even if you hadn’t been a blood relative, we’d have welcomed you with open arms. But for my son’s sake…
” She looks over my head at my dad. “And for you both, I’m glad the truth came out. Today is a little sweeter for that.”