Page 62 of Until It Was Real

“Where are we going?” I ask the second he opens his door.

He chuckles. “Impatient?”

“Curious.”

“What I say next has to remain strictly confidential between the two of us.”

I groan. “I am not robbing a bank with you. You do realize banks don’t actually have cash anymore?”

“I won’t rob a bank unless I have to.”

“I’m confused. Why would you have to rob a bank?”

He switches on the engine and drives away from the motel. “You’ve met my brothers.”

“I never realized siblings could be close but drive each other batty at the same time.”

He reaches across the console to squeeze my hand. “I’m sorry you grew up without siblings.”

“Judging by the way you are with your siblings, I’d have more scars if I did.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what? Make fun of your family? I’m sorry.”

“You can make fun of my brothers all you want. Have at it. What I meant is, don’t be flippant about how you grew up. You’re allowed to be sad for missing out.”

I glance out the window. “I never thought of it as missing out.”

“Can I ask how you ended up in care?”

I debate what I should say. Before I come up with an answer, he sighs. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer me if it’s painful. Pick another topic.”

“It’s not painful. I just never discuss this stuff.”

“I get it. It’s private. You’re a very private person.”

Am I? I’ve never had the time or energy to self reflect or go to therapy. I was too busy going to school and working, and then working and building a life, and now trying to survive. Therapy is for people who can afford it.[i]

“My mother was an addict. I was born addicted to heroin. While I was in the NICU, my mother left the hospital and was never seen again. She was admitted under a false name. I never knew her real name or who my dad was.”

“Shit, Dakota. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You had nothing to do with it.”

He sighs. “You know what I mean. I’m sorry for all you went through.”

I shrug. “I don’t remember it.”

“And no one ever wanted to adopt you?”

“Children born addicted have a higher risk of developing long-term problems. No one wanted to accept the risk.” It’s true. Just not the entire truth.

“Assholes.”

My brow wrinkles. “They’re not assholes. Having a sick child can be costly.”

“It doesn’t matter. When you love your children, you do everything for them.”

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