Page 52 of Bound By Fate
The next question was for my benefit because I needed to know. “Why do people put their kids up for adoption? Not to sound like a jerk, but at my home that was never an option. What is it like out here?”
He didn’t even need to think about it. “It could be many reasons. The parents were young, or they couldn’t provide for the child. Or it was a single mom who wanted her child to have a better life. It could even be that the mom or dad was hooked on drugs and couldn’t take care of a child. All reasons are valid. Why I was put up for adoption, I don’t know and don’t care. I love the parents and sister life afforded me. And no, you’re not a jerk. I’d rather you ask me than just go assuming things. Facts are always the best.”
The tingles magnified, and butterflies started their fluttering. This man …he… I cut off the thought and needed to move on.
“Why did you choose the Marines?”
He didn’t skip a beat and let the adoption information drop. I loved how he knew me so well. “Because they’re the baddest badasses. There was no choice.”
“I’m not asking you about your service. If you want to tell me sometime, that’s fine. But Ensley told me that Micah doesn’t like talking too much about his time overseas, and I won’t push you to talk to me about it.” Even if I really wanted to know.
That tidbit of a throwaway comment Ensley gave me months ago came into use now. I wouldn’t push it.
“There are things I won’t talk about, and there are things I will. Why don’t we save that for another time?” he said on a squeeze.
“Sounds good to me.” I felt relieved he took me off the hook with that one. Ensley talked about PTSD and other stuff. That was all really deep, and now wasn’t the time for that kind of conversation. Especially since he was trying to calm me down from my dream.
“Favorite cookie?” I tossed out on a whim.
His body shook with laughter. “My grandma’s Christmas cookies.”
“Is your grandma still alive?”
“Yeah, the old woman is 91 and in better shape than me.” That part I had a hard time believing because the man was ripped. “You meet her, you’ll love her. She’s a spitfire.”
I doubted I’d ever be meeting his family, which saddened me because I really wanted to.
“Do your parents, grandma, sister and you get together often?”
It was his body that went tight this time, and I regretted my question. Whatever the answer was didn’t feel like it’d be a good one. I was about to change the question, but he answered.
“Dad, sister and Gran get together. My mom passed away from leukemia. So it’s just us now.”
His mom? That had to be difficult. “That sucks.”
That smile in his voice came back. “That is a much better response than ‘sorry for your loss’ or ‘is there anything I can do’. I know people are just trying to be nice, but it doesn’t help, and you hear it so much you want to scream. They couldn’t bring her back, and that would be the only thing that would help.”
“I bet she was a good mom, considering you didn’t turn out half bad,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood because the heaviness was weighing down the room, and I didn’t want that for him.
“She was the best. We didn’t have a lot of money, but she never made my sister or me feel it. Adopting us wasn’t easy, they said, but my mom couldn’t have biological kids and wanted a whole houseful. There just wasn’t enough money for that. So there were times when we had one package of mac n’ cheese for my parents, sister, and me to share. And we didn’t have milk and had to use water, so it didn’t taste right, but we ate it with a smile on our faces. We rationed food like you wouldn’t believe. I can’t tell you how many peanut butter sandwiches I ate. It wasn’t until later when Mom and Dad started getting assistance, and that helped.”
He spoke fondly of them, and I didn’t interrupt. I liked hearing of his childhood.
“My dad had chickens for fresh eggs. The rooster was ornery, though. Came after us whenever we went to get the eggs. I swore that thing was demented. One time it went after my sister to the point she was screaming. My dad kicked that rooster across the pen. DeeDee was traumatized and still talks about it to this day. The rooster was fine and went back to his mean ways.”
“We had chickens too, but luckily no attacking rooster.”
He chuckled. “I have lots of memories of my family. Of my mom. Really at the end of it, that’s all you have is memories. Like your mom creating a costume from scratch with shit at home because we couldn’t buy costumes, which she did every year for Halloween. One year it was grapes then a ghost, then a lion and so on. My sister didn’t like the hand-me-downs, but she got over it. I can still envision her holding me. Hugging me. Telling me that she loved me. It’s the memories that counted.”
I could tell this was hurting him yet helping him too. Like he was sad, but happy to share those things with me. I soaked up every word.
“When we were really little, my mom would put her queen-sized mattress in the front room against the wall so it was at an angle. I’d climb up to the top and slide down. Over and over and over again. My sister tried climbing up, but my mom had to help her, and she didn’t find the game as fun as I did. When we were a little bit older, my parents wanted to take us to the beach. We all loaded in the car and made our way down to Florida. Back then there were some seedy motels right across from the beach that didn’t cost a whole lot. They’d rent one of those and we’d spend a few days at the beach.”
“You really love her.”
“Yeah. Sometime I’ll show ya the picture I have of my mom and my hand holding each other. She was on hospice at home, dying, and we knew the end was very near. Something inside me said, take a picture holding your mom’s hand. So I did. My sister had it printed small for me to carry everywhere and enlarged it for me to hang on the wall. It’s not much, but it’s something.”
“You were really lucky, Dry. She seems like a great woman.”
