Page 34 of Statistically Speaking
I speak, and I wait. She is no fool, of course, this woman, even if she is wearing a pink bobble hat and has a passing resemblance to a garden gnome today. I see Erin process the information, see it register, see a flicker of emotion cross her face. I can’t quite tell what the emotion is, though—maybe it’s a lawyer thing.
“Same day that Katie was born,” she says quietly. “Same hair. Not the same child, though. Katie came to us from a—well, from a difficult background. She was in care on and off from when she was born, and finally removed by the courts when it became clear that nothing at home was going to change, that she wouldn’t be safe. That’s when she came to us.”
“I know that,” I reply. “Now. After last night.” She nods and is still and silent for a moment as she pieces it together.
“But before that,” she says, “you didn’t. You thought, what, that Katie might be your daughter?” I feel wretched and miserable and oh so out of my depth here. I am not good at this stuff. I am not good at honesty, or people, or friendships, and it feels unnatural to be laying myself so bare and exposed.
I count the Iron Men for a few moments while I gather myself, then reply, “I did. And I’m really sorry.”
“About what?”
“About everything. I mean, I had no idea you were Katie’s mum when we met at the yoga class—I just liked you. And I had no idea Katie was adopted until then either—I just liked her too. Of course I did—she’s very likable. But when I did find out, and also discovered when her birthday was, it just—I don’t know, it grew and grew in my mind. I think I might have gone a little bit crazy.”
“So that evening, when you came around for dinner, you were already wondering about it?” I nod and bite my lip. I want to say more. To apologize more. To humble myself somehow—but I don’t have the right words to express it all.
“That’s why you went a bit funny looking at the pictures, right? And that’s why you passed out last night.”
“It is, yes. It was a shock, and I just suddenly—suddenly knew how wrong I’d been, and how stupid I’d been as well. And now I feel like you must think I’m some kind of lunatic stalker, and I’m not, I promise.
“I didn’t say anything because it didn’t feel right. Even back then, when I thought I might actually be her birth mother, I knew you were herrealmother. I never, ever wanted to intrude on that. Especially because of what you’ve both been through recently—I didn’t want to just make everything even more messed up for you.”
“So, what, you just thought you’d hang around with me, teach Katie, and hope that one day you’d magically find a way to know for sure? How did you think that was going to happen, Gemma?”
Her voice is level and calm, but I can see a red sheen to her cheeks and know that she is angry. I shake my head and clench my eyes against tears. I am not the wronged party here. I have no right to tears.
“I don’t know. I just don’t know. I completely get why you’re pissed off. This whole thing is a mess, and it’s all my fault. I probably shouldn’t have even told you.”
Bill runs back over to us, nuzzles Erin’s hands. He has abandoned me in my hour of need, and I can’t say that I blame him.
She strokes his long head and says, “Why did you even tell me? You could have gone with anemia, and we’d have been none the wiser.”
It’s a good question, and right at this second I’m wishing that’s exactly what I had done. Blame the emotional rollercoaster, blame the sex, blame loneliness—whatever the reason, I’d felt the need to come clean.
“I know,” I reply, laughing bitterly. “I probably should have! It’s—well, I don’t really know what it is, Erin. Except that I like you and hope we can be friends, and I like Katie so much too and want her to do all the brilliant things I know she can with her life, and—well, I guess I wanted to be honest. Believe me, it feels weird at my end too.”
She does not speak for a while, simply gazes out at the horizon, jaw clenched.
“I totally understand,” I say when I can’t take the silence anymore, “if you want me to get Katie moved into a different class. Heck, I totally understand if you want me to leave completely.”
“Leave the school?”
“Yes. I will, if you want me to. I’ve made an almighty mess, and—I don’t know, maybe it’s for the best anyway. I’ve already been here too long.”
She stands up suddenly, catching both me and Bill unawares. He responds quicker, trotting alongside her as she walks briskly back toward the dune path.
When we near the houses, she stops. Somehow, even though she is almost a foot shorter than me, she makes me feel intimidated with the look on her face.
“Look,” she says seriously, “this is all a bit weird. I suppose you might have hit a nerve with me—no matter how confident you are as the mum of an adopted child, there always seems to be a bit of you that knows they must wonder, they must at least consider their ‘other’ mum. We’ve never hidden anything from Katie and have always said we’d support her if she wanted to look for her birth parents, but so far she’s said she doesn’t want to—and if I’m honest, even though I know it’s selfish, that’s been a bit of a relief. So this... this is a bit of a...”
“Head fuck?”
“Precisely that. I know, when I think it through and get my balance back, that I will understand it all better. I know I like you too, and that Katie thinks you’re the bee’s knees, and that it’s probably best that you’ve been honest. Right now, I’m just a bit caught off guard, and freaked out, and in the same spirit of honesty, a bit angry as well. So I’m going to go home and have a glass of wine, even though it’s not even lunchtime, and have a soak in the bath, and later on talk to Katie about all this.”
I cringe slightly as she says it, and she notices.
“I have to. We don’t keep secrets from each other, but I’ll make sure she’s discreet—she won’t be sharing your secrets with the rest of the students, I promise,” she says.
“I know. That’s fine. I’m also happy to talk to her directly, if that helps. Whatever I can do. And I’m sorry. Sorry I was such an idiot.”
