Page 80 of Against All Odds

I stand and head to her closet. Sure enough, there’s a pile on the left of all his clothing. I bring the pile to her, and she sits there and folds his things in neat order, at times brushing the fabric with a smile on her face.

“He loved this shirt.”

My heart aches for her and the love they shared. I don’t know that there were ever two people who were meant to be together more than them.

I can remember walking in on them kissing in the kitchen, absolutely disgusted, but now I see it so differently.

“I think he loved that you bought it for him.”

She chuckles. “That man didn’t buy a single thing for himself. If I didn’t get him new jeans, he’d wear the torn ones until they’d fall apart. He wanted us to have everything.”

Mom extends the shirt to me, and I take it as carefully as she handles it. “He never let me see how hard it was for him.”

My baseball aspirations drained them financially. There were games all over the place, travel, new equipment, and leagues that I was adamant I needed to play in. The camp up in New England probably cost half of what they made in a year, but they never said a word. Dad just said he’d make it work.

“Oh, honey, parents don’t want their children to know the truth.”

“Still, it was hard for you both.”

Mom waits for me to look at her again. “Parents do whatever their kids need. It wasn’t easy, but you were worth the struggles. To see you smile, to know you had what you needed, that’s what a parent does. It’s what you’ll do someday when you have one. You’ll sacrifice for them, no matter what they require. You’ll lovethem and always put their needs and well-being first, even if it means your heartache. Do you think I liked watching you go to camp? No. I hated it, butyouloved it.”

“I think you did a lot more than most would,” I tell her, thinking of how they gave up their life to take me in.

“Why?”

“Because you and Dad were resolved to not having kids.”

This conversation has gone way deeper than I had planned, but these were things I thought about last night.

She shakes her head. “And? You were my son the moment I held you. The moment I knew you existed.”

“I know.”

I never felt unloved. I didn’t even know I wasn’t theirs, to be honest. People would always tell my parents how much I looked like my dad, to which my parents would smile and rub my head, saying they agreed.

When I found out I was adopted, it was so difficult. I felt like I’d been lied to, but at the same time I was so grateful to have known them.

I think I learned a lot about love at that point as well. Because they loved me, I never doubted that.

I think about what all this means now. How I don’t know what to feel about Violet having a kid and where I thought my life was going. Can I be in her life? In the baby’s life? What would it even look like?

We continue to put the clothes away, both silent as the weight of today’s conversation settles around us and also knowing she probably won’t remember half of it.

She’ll go to watch her show, settle into the routine of today, and forget about the pain of thinking she lost Dad’s things. Again, a small blessing from her injury. She doesn’t hold on to things for long.

“If you could go back, knowing you’d lose Dad, knowing that nothing would be different, would you still love him?”

Her smile is so honest it causes my chest to ache. “I would love that man if I only ever got one day with him.” She walks over to me, placing her hand on my chest. “Just like you would for Violet. Love is a choice, and yet, for others, it’s just inevitable. You can be scared of it and run, or you can just feel it and let it take hold. I can promise, if your father walked in this house and all I could ever have was one more day, oh, I would hold on to that day with both hands.”

I walk back to the house with more of a fucked-up mind than I had last night after Violet told me she was pregnant.

It was a lot: my mother’s breakdown, the talk after, and then watching her go back to the shell of who she was just a few minutes earlier, finally going into the living room and settling into a normal day.

However, for a little while, I had my mom back.

Even if that mother imparted way too much wisdom in a short span. All I can think about is the last thing she said about getting just one more day with my dad.

One more day isn’t enough.

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