Page 81 of Exile and Embrace

And why wasn’t my birth mother a part of my life?

Has she been spending time with me, knowing that I’m her daughter, and not saying anything?

Aunt Courtney walks down the steps with her keys dangling from her fingers. All the color is drained from her face as she unlocks the doors to her little blue car.

The numbness continues to spread as I push myself up from the chair and head to the car.

The drive to Becca’s house is long, but it doesn’t give me any time to clear my head. There are too many thoughts to just focus on one.

I’m furious at my father to lying to me throughout my life. He had years to tell me that I had another mother out there—one who might love me and miss me—but he didn’t.

Instead, he raised me with a woman who barely looked at me, no matter how much everyone claimed she loved me. No matter how she herself claimed that for a little while when I was younger.

Did Becca care about me? Had she ever?

Whose choice was it to have me be raised away from her?

As we pull up to the massive house, my heart leaps into my throat.

I should have thought more about what I was going to say when I got here. I can't just march in there and ask her why she didn’t love me.

Though I might be angry, I’m not a petulant child. I can be angry and civil at the same time.

Becca steps onto the front porch as we’re getting out of the car. Her hands are tucked into the pockets of her cream linen slacks. Her dark gaze focuses on me, the corner of her mouth twitching.

Aunt Courtney gives her a thin smile. “I probably should have called or something before we came over, but Ava is looking for answers that I can’t give her.”

It’s only now, standing in front of Becca, that I realize the resemblance between the two of us.

We have the same dark eyes and hair. The same mouth.

I should’ve seen it before, but I didn’t know that it was something I should’ve been looking for.

Becca nods. “We have some things to talk about. Come inside. We can talk in the living room. I’ll get everybody a glass of wine. We’re going to need it to start digging up the past.”

I follow her into the massive white house, large windows letting in light from every angle.

She leads the way into a beige living room with dark accents.

Everything looks classy and timeless.

Stepping into Becca’s home is like stepping into another life that could’ve been mine.

Becca pours three glasses of wine, and we take a seat on the couches.

I sit opposite her, the glass coffee table keeping us a few feet apart.

She looks down at the necklace I’m wearing.

“That used to be mine.” Becca takes a sip of her wine before putting the glass down on the table. “Back in high school. Your father gave it to me when we first started dating.”

Butterflies beat against the inside of my stomach. “So, it’s true, then. You gave birth to me.”

She winces and nods. “Yes. I did.”

Aunt Courtney leans back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. She said on the way over that she was going to stay out of the conversation unless I needed her.

I appreciate her being here for emotional support.

---