thought to asking for it.
“What are you doing with my adoption papers?” I asked.
The Glasses were still on their around-the-world cruise and would be for another six weeks, so I knew they hadn’t given the folder to Steph.
She gave me a chiding look that told me she thought I was being intentionally dense. Maybe I was.
“There’s this thing called a key. You put it in the door, and, voilà, it opens. I thought you might try out this incredible invention yourself and get the file now that the mystery of your origins has become so much more interesting, but I got tired of waiting for you to make your move.”
I looked at her askance. She knew perfectly well I had no intention of tracking down my birth mother. I didn’t really think what I’d learned about myself changed anything. I wanted nothing to do with my birth mother. Even if I wanted to find her, I wasn’t sure it was possible. She’d done a damned thorough job of abandoning me. The police were never even able to find out my last name, and all I could tell them was that my mom and I had been traveling by bus for a long time before she’d taken me to the church and left me there. It wasn’t like she’d purposely put me up for adoption with a nice, neat paper trail.
“I’m really not interested,” I told Steph, grabbing the folder and trying to give it back to her.
“Yes, you are,” she said with total conviction.“It’s possible you got your divine blood through your mother, isn’t it?”
The thought had already occurred to me. I’d even had a dream about the day she’d abandoned me, and in that dream, she’d suddenly developed a glyph on her forehead. But that had to be wishful thinking on my part. It was nice to think that my mom might have been a Descendant and might have been in trouble with the Olympians. If that were the case, I could tell myself she’d abandoned me in an attempt to sever our connection and protect me in case the Olympians caught up with her. But I’m not what you’d call a Pollyanna. It made a nice fantasy, but I was a big believer in Occam’s Razor, and the simplest explanation for her abandonment was that she hadn’t wanted me. I preferred to keep my faint hope that she’d abandoned me for a noble reason, and if I went looking for her and found her, I would most likely destroy that pleasant fantasy forever.
“It’s possible, but I don’t care,” I said, still trying to get Steph to take the folder back. Of course, she wouldn’t.
“I know you do care,” she said gently. “You don’t think I can see how badly you want to know why she left you?”
With a grunt of frustration, I threw the folder onto the coffee table. “I don’t want to know,” I insisted. “I want there to be a lovely, happy ending, where I go searching for her and find her and discover that she left me for my own good. But that isn’t likely, and if she abandoned me because she didn’t want me, then I’d really rather not know. So stop pushing me.”
“I can’t force you to do anything with the information,” Steph said. “You can look for her or not. It’s up to you. But I think you’re wrong. I think you’re the kind of person who’d rather know the truth than be left with a mystery. I know you’ve never been interested in looking for her before, but I think a big part of that was because you didn’t think you had any hope of finding her. Well, now you do.”
Maybe she was right, but I’d had enough crisis in my life lately. I didn’t want to add to it by starting down this road, one that could so easily lead to a heaping helping of pain.
“I’ve got a lot of other stuff on my plate,” I said. “I don’t have time for any personal crap.”
Steph gave me a long-suffering look. “Okay. Fine. Hang out in Denial Land a little longer. Eventually, curiosity is going to get the better of you, and you’ll go looking for those answers. When you’re ready, the file will be waiting for you.”
She stood up,
“What are you doing with my adoption papers?” I asked.
The Glasses were still on their around-the-world cruise and would be for another six weeks, so I knew they hadn’t given the folder to Steph.
She gave me a chiding look that told me she thought I was being intentionally dense. Maybe I was.
“There’s this thing called a key. You put it in the door, and, voilà, it opens. I thought you might try out this incredible invention yourself and get the file now that the mystery of your origins has become so much more interesting, but I got tired of waiting for you to make your move.”
I looked at her askance. She knew perfectly well I had no intention of tracking down my birth mother. I didn’t really think what I’d learned about myself changed anything. I wanted nothing to do with my birth mother. Even if I wanted to find her, I wasn’t sure it was possible. She’d done a damned thorough job of abandoning me. The police were never even able to find out my last name, and all I could tell them was that my mom and I had been traveling by bus for a long time before she’d taken me to the church and left me there. It wasn’t like she’d purposely put me up for adoption with a nice, neat paper trail.
“I’m really not interested,” I told Steph, grabbing the folder and trying to give it back to her.
“Yes, you are,” she said with total conviction.“It’s possible you got your divine blood through your mother, isn’t it?”
The thought had already occurred to me. I’d even had a dream about the day she’d abandoned me, and in that dream, she’d suddenly developed a glyph on her forehead. But that had to be wishful thinking on my part. It was nice to think that my mom might have been a Descendant and might have been in trouble with the Olympians. If that were the case, I could tell myself she’d abandoned me in an attempt to sever our connection and protect me in case the Olympians caught up with her. But I’m not what you’d call a Pollyanna. It made a nice fantasy, but I was a big believer in Occam’s Razor, and the simplest explanation for her abandonment was that she hadn’t wanted me. I preferred to keep my faint hope that she’d abandoned me for a noble reason, and if I went looking for her and found her, I would most likely destroy that pleasant fantasy forever.
“It’s possible, but I don’t care,” I said, still trying to get Steph to take the folder back. Of course, she wouldn’t.
“I know you do care,” she said gently. “You don’t think I can see how badly you want to know why she left you?”
With a grunt of frustration, I threw the folder onto the coffee table. “I don’t want to know,” I insisted. “I want there to be a lovely, happy ending, where I go searching for her and find her and discover that she left me for my own good. But that isn’t likely, and if she abandoned me because she didn’t want me, then I’d really rather not know. So stop pushing me.”
“I can’t force you to do anything with the information,” Steph said. “You can look for her or not. It’s up to you. But I think you’re wrong. I think you’re the kind of person who’d rather know the truth than be left with a mystery. I know you’ve never been interested in looking for her before, but I think a big part of that was because you didn’t think you had any hope of finding her. Well, now you do.”
Maybe she was right, but I’d had enough crisis in my life lately. I didn’t want to add to it by starting down this road, one that could so easily lead to a heaping helping of pain.
“I’ve got a lot of other stuff on my plate,” I said. “I don’t have time for any personal crap.”
Steph gave me a long-suffering look. “Okay. Fine. Hang out in Denial Land a little longer. Eventually, curiosity is going to get the better of you, and you’ll go looking for those answers. When you’re ready, the file will be waiting for you.”
She stood up,
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