Page 74 of Searching for Nova

“Not yet. It’s still early. I don’t have to be home until ten.”

“That’s your curfew?”

“Yeah. Ten during the week and midnight on weekends. It’s stupid. I don’t know why my parents insist on me having a curfew when I’m almost 18.”

“They’re probably just worried about you.” She pauses. “I think it’s kind of nice, you know, that they care.”

“Yeah,” I say, wishing I hadn’t told her that. I forget that things I take for granted, or get annoyed with, are the things Nova would give anything for, like parents who care about her. “Do you ever hear from your dad?”

“No. Well, we heard from him when I was ten. He showed up at the apartment, asking Ted for money. Ted told him to go to hell, they got in a fight, and my dad took off.”

“Did he at least spend some time with you?”

“No. He told me to go to my room while he talked to Ted. I think he was drunk.”

“Sorry. That sucks.”

“It wasn’t that bad. I was actually relieved I didn’t have to spend my birthday with Ted. I just stayed in my room and played.”

“This happened on your birthday?”

“Yeah. I thought that’s why my dad was there, but I don’t think he even knew it was my birthday. Ted never remembers it either. I don’t really care. It’s just another day.”

“It’s not, though.” I hold her hand, noticing how tiny and delicate it is next to mine. “I wish things had turned out differently. I wish you’d never had to go live with your grandfather.”

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“I wish you’d had a family. People who adopted you and treated you better than Ted does.”

“I wanted that too, but it didn’t happen. It doesn’t happen for a lot of kids like us. You just got lucky.”

“Sometimes I wonder why they chose me. I mean, why me and not you?”

“Maybe they wanted a boy.”

“But they wanted more than one kid and they didn’t think they could have their own. They could’ve adopted you too.”

“Yeah, well, they didn’t. I guess things were just meant to turn out this way.”

I look down at her hand in mine, feeling the guilt of that day weighing down on me. “I never wanted to leave you. When they took me that day, I cried all the way to their house.”

“You did?” she whispers.

“I cried that whole week. My parents took me to counseling, but it didn’t help. I begged them to go get you. I told them I’d do anything—eat all my vegetables, give up all my toys, whatever they wanted—if they’d go back and get you.”

Nova turns and looks at me. “You asked them to adopt me?”

I nod, and feel a tear slide down my cheek. I wipe it away, not wanting Nova to see, but it’s too late. She already did.

She’s tearing up too. “I thought you forgot about me.”

“Never.” I wipe the tears from her cheeks. “I could never forget about you.”

She hugs me, pressing her face against my chest. I wrap my arms around her and hold her, the guilt still weighing me down. If only I’d tried harder, begged my parents to take her, would they have done it? They had the money. They had a house. If I’d just tried harder to convince them, maybe they would’ve taken her.

“Why didn’t they let you come back?” she whispers. “Why wouldn’t they let you visit?”

“The counselor told them it’d only make it harder for me to let you go. But I never did. I never let you go. I thought about you every day. Wrote you letters. Made you cards.”

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