28. Camilla

28

CAMILLA

"So, I've been sending out my resume," Abigail says, holding her bitten mal asada aloft. "And I knew the market would be tough, but I didn't think it would be this tough."

"You know you always have a job here if you need one," I explain.

She snorts. "Yeah, let me use my master's in marine biology to make coffee."

"You wouldn't be the first," I say. "Besides, I meant we could find you a job on the back end. The business end."

Abigail sighs. "There's a reason I didn't go to business school, Camilla."

Abigail is only a year or two younger than me, but we are worlds apart in life experience. She's been in school for years now. I've been in the job force. Not to mention, my priorities are totally different with the baby coming in three months.

Three months . How did time move so fast?

She takes a bite of her sugary fried dough. "Anyways, I just want to get through my hooding ceremony and–" She's distracted by something behind me. "Here comes your man."

I turn around to find Jack walking toward us. I smile. And he doesn't.

Something's wrong.

"Hey," I say as he approaches.

"Sorry, Abigail, I need her," Jack says and doesn't wait for a response, just grabs my hand and leads me back toward the bar.

"Is something wrong with the equipment? Did someone quit? Are we out of coffee?" Each of my questions almost interrupting the one before it.

Jack shakes his head. "No, it's–everything is fine with the shop."

We duck into the back room behind the bar for the employees. Jack shuts the door behind us and grabs me by the shoulders.

"Jack, you're scaring me."

He swallows and says nothing.

"If this is a weird like…quickie thing…" I go on, trying to smile.

"No, Camilla, I'm–" He exhales and closes his eyes. "I'm just trying to figure out the right way to say this."

I place my hands on my stomach. Our baby is flitting around like crazy. They've started responding to my emotions. When I'm feeling out of sorts, so are they. "Jack, just tell me."

"Okay, okay." He takes a moment, then locks eyes with me. "Your mom is here."

I furrow my brow. "They just went back to the–"

"Your birth mom."

I don't move a muscle for a long time. Don't even know what thought to think. "What?"

"She's in the manager's office."

"Jack, what? Did you–"

"No, she just showed up, Camilla. I don't know how she–"

Jack stops to rub my arms. "She just walked up and asked about you and–" A smile breaks out across his face. "You look just like her."

I step back from him. I need space to figure out how to process this. "Oh my god."

"Baby girl, breathe."

I press my hand to my chest and rub it, trying to steady my racing heart. "She's here? In the office?"

"That's where I put her in case you wanted to talk to her."

"Oh my god ."

"You don't have to. I can tell her she needs to leave. But she came up here from New Mexico and–"

"You already talked to her?"

Jack folds his hands in a prayer position. "I had to, to find out if she was actually who she says she is. I wasn't trying to do anything malicious, I promise, Camilla."

I go to the table in the middle of the room, the one that used to be unfinished and gave me a splinter. I press my palms on it and try to catch my breath. "I…don't know what to do."

Jack comes up behind me and strokes his fingers up and down my spine. It steadies me. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I want to, but I don't know if I can."

"I know you can, baby girl, I know you can." He takes my hand in his and guides it to my stomach. "Remember it's not just you. It's us. I stand by you one hundred percent."

It's not just me anymore. It's me and my baby. The baby that I have pictured my future around. The one I share with the man I love.

The one I can't imagine not knowing me.

I have to do this.

For us .

"Okay. I'll talk to her."

Jack steadies me on his arm and walks me over to the door to the manager's office at back of the room. "You want me to go in with you or–"

"I'll do it," I say without a second thought.

Jack seems to hesitate, but ultimately nods. "I'll be out here. If you need anything, okay?"

I don't say anything, so focused on the moment I'm in. I place my hand on the doorknob. Twist it. Push it. I step into the room. Close the door behind me. Turn around.

And…there she is.

My birth mother.

Jack was right. It's like looking in a mirror. Even the way she smiles, which right now is subtle and nervous as she gazes up at me from her chair by the window. The only difference of course is that she's older than me, though her skin is smooth and there's no gray in her hair.

She's beautiful. And that's not to say I'm beautiful. I just never knew what it would be like to look at a version of me. A piece of me. Though my heart is broken over her, her beauty is staggering.

I don't know what to say, and she doesn't know either. I'm not sure how long the silence lasts. A while. More than is comfortable. With tentativeness, I go over to the chair across from hers, my sandals echoing on the hardwood.

I avert my eyes as I sit down. We've tried to make the manager's office as stylish and thoughtfully decorated as the rest of the coffee shop. High ceilings, hardwood floors, fresh fixtures. I couldn't care less what the room looks like in this moment. It doesn't alleviate my stress because it's esthetically pleasing. We may as well be in a room with black walls, ceilings, and floors.

"Congratulations."

The fact she's spoken takes a moment to register.

"Your husband told me you were expecting," she says, widening her smile.

I fold my hands under my belly, toying with the fabric of my dress. "He's not my husband."

Her smile drops as she lifts her chin, then nods with vehemence. "I see. I assumed. I'm sorry."

There is a clear Spanish lilt in her words, but it's subtler than I expected.

"I don't know what to say." I have reverted back to a thirteen-year-old, shy and unsure of herself.

"Me either," she says attempting a laugh. I'm not sure what's funny about this moment. "I'm Juana."

"Yeah, I know,"

"You're…Camilla."

I try not to wince at the way she pronounces the "I" in my name. If I had been named with Spanish naming conventions it would have been "Camila" and the "I" would have made an "ee" sound. But she didn't name me. My adoptive parents did.

How screwed up is that? She's my mother and she didn't even name me .

"How did you find me?"

Juana shifts in her seat, looks out the window. "Well, I wouldn't have found you if you hadn't found me first."

I narrow my gaze on her. "What do you mean?"

"Your…investigator?"

I frown. "We didn't find you. You were gone when we–"

"I was not gone, someone just spoke with my husband."

My stomach drops. "They said you hadn't lived there in years."

"His name is on the lease. We don't share a last name."

"So, you were avoiding me?"

Juana sighs and nods, sadness evident in her eyes. "Yes, I was. I'm sorry."

I grip the arms of the chair. I don't want to feel anger. Not now. For me. For my child. It's not good for us. But how can I help it when I'm being faced with the truth?

My birth mother wanted nothing to do with me from the beginning. She never did. And now she's here to rub it in my face.

"Well, I apologize for…" My jaw tightens. "Trying to get in touch."

"No, Camilla, please don't apologize, that's not why I'm here."

"Why are you here, then?"

Juana looks away.

I know this can't be easy for her, but it's not easy for me either, and I'm on my own side here. I'm done trying to wrap my mind around how she did what she did or why she wouldn't want to know me. I have to protect myself. Us .

"I know it might not be easy to understand where I'm coming from, but I hope you will just listen with an open heart."

I can listen. No promises on what my heart is doing, though.

"Giving you up was very difficult for me," she says, frank and assured. "I came to the United States for school and found out I was carrying you shortly after I arrived."

I swallow.

"Your father–"

"My father is Dan Graff. Whoever that man is is not my father."

And you are not my mother.

Juana recoils. "I'm sorry. That wasn't meant to be…insensitive. I just mean the–the man who got me pregnant, he was a childhood friend. He wanted to marry me, but I wanted to study. It was a big deal for me to be accepted into a school, even if it was in Nebraska." She sort of laughs at herself. "It sounded so exotic when I was in Mexico."

I try not to smile.

"Anyway, all that is to say, you came from a place of love. There was no…no pain there," she says, touching her heart.

I sigh deeply. I had no idea how reliving that would be, but the weight that lifts is massive. "That's good to know."

"Anyway, I wanted to keep you, but if I had, I would have had to drop out of school and go home to Mexico. They wouldn't have let me stay here. And that would have been shameful, not just on a mental level, but my community and my religion, it would have been painful for us, even if we were able to stay together. You understand what I'm saying?"

I bite down on the inside of my cheek. I imagine my own baby. Would I have done that? If I knew life would be harder for us even if we were together? I don't know. I'm not sure that's a question you can answer without actually having to answer it. "I understand."

"You were better off with Lisa and Dan. They were very kind to me. They even helped me with my medical payments, school, helping me stay on my feet."

"You knew my parents?"

"Oh, yes. I chose them. That's how the adoption worked. They were at the hospital when you were born," Juana says, smiling. There is a clear fondness for them. "Were they…it's not my place to ask, but were they good to you? Did I make a good choice for you?"

My eyes fill with tears in an instant. I look away. If I'm going to cry, I don't want her to see.

"Yeah, they were great. They are great." Better than anything, they were mine. For all the faults and bumps in the road, they did what they could for me. And that was more than Juana could give.

She smiles. "Good. That makes me so happy, Camilla."

There's that soft sound again in the middle of my name.

Juana hesitates for a moment. "They didn't…tell you about me, did they?"

"No. Never."

She nods, her head heavy with solemnity. "That's what we agreed."

"Why? Why not give me an opportunity to know you?"

Juana shifts in her seat and clutches at her purse. "That would have been too hard for me."

I want to shout, "What about me?!" But I don't. Because now that I know she wanted me, I understand her much more.

"I had to focus on school and if I was seeing you grow up, it would have been too much for me to bear. I got my engineering degree, and I left Nebraska and tried to move on." She nods. "That sounds harsh, but that is what I had to do."

"I understand," I whisper.

"I'm sorry I was not stronger than that, Camilla."

Baby flutters in my belly. A comforting flip. I touch my palm to my stomach to comfort them back. "But why did you have your husband lie? I would think you'd want to meet me at some point or…" Maybe not. I bite back on my words.

"I was afraid," Juana says. Simple. To the point.

"Why? If you knew I wanted to meet you, why would you be afraid?"

Juana reaches into her purse and pulls out her phone. She taps around for a minute before landing on what she's looking for and then holds the phone out, screen facing me. It's a picture of a little girl. Under ten, but I'm not sure exactly how old. She has the same curly hair as me. As Juana. But lighter skin and bright green eyes.

I take the phone from her and stare down at the picture.

"That's my daughter, Sofia."

There's a tug in my chest. I'm not sure what emotion. "How old is she?"

"She's about to turn eight."

Eight years ago, I was eighteen. Around the same age Juana was when I was born. A lot can change in eighteen years. A baby can grow into a full-fledged person. And a mother who wasn't ready to be a mother can be ready.

"I did not want to hurt you and make you wonder why her and not you. And I wasn't sure if she…she didn't know I had a baby before her. I felt pulled to protect both of you. But all these months have passed, and I can't stop thinking about you." Juana folds her hands in her lap. "So, I told her to see if it felt any different."

She smiles, tears bubbling in her eyes. "She said she'd want to meet you someday and if that isn't a kind of permission, I don't know what is."

I turn off the screen and hand Juana her phone back. Our fingers brush for a second, sending lightning bolts up my arm and to my brain. A sense in me is awakened. A feeling that has grown since I learned I was pregnant, but I didn't know how to place it.

"So, you are meeting me for her?" I ask in a careful way.

"No, no, it just made the decision easier. My husband has been supportive from the beginning, you know. Whatever I wanted to do. It just took me some time."

I'm happy. And I'm angry. And I'm so sad. "It's not fair."

"Camilla…"

"I was ready. I looked for you." I'm shaking, like my body is sobbing without tears.

"I know, I'm so sorry."

It's painful to swallow, my body so tense from want and surrender and now this .

"I wanted–before I ever–" I don't know where to go. Where to turn.

How do you hold someone accountable who was doing her best? Whose choice was correct?

"It wasn't fair of me. I was scared. I should have been braver."

But she was brave. To give me up, though she loved me. To walk away. "I thought you hated me. I thought I–"

"No, no. That is the exact opposite." Her voice warbles. "Camilla–"

She grabs my hand and the shock returns, this time so intense I gasp.

It's the bond. The same bond I have with my baby. My mom, Lisa, she is my mother. Through and through. Did everything a mother should and more. Loved me beyond compare as if I was her own. But no matter what she did, she couldn't recreate this. A feeling of belonging.

Of knowing where I come from.

The tears spill out now.

"Ay, mija…come here."

Juana pulls me closer, into her chest and I cry. I see a different life behind my eyelids like a montage. One filled with Spanish and her scent, scenes of Mexico and a very different life than I had in Nebraska. It would have been beautiful. Maybe.

And maybe not.

We'll never know.

But buried in her arms, so many of the tears in my fabric are sewn shut. I feel me in her. I sensed I needed this for so long but could never have truly comprehended how much of me would awaken.

I cry until my face hurts. Juana does not loosen her grip on me the entire time. She strokes my hair and my back, whispering her apologies over and over. Her other hand rests near my waist, near my baby. Her biological grandchild. They jerk about. Maybe they know. Sense the connection here.

Juana's hand on my belly hops away. "Oh, very active, hm?"

I lift my head, eyes wide. "You felt them move?"

She laughs. "Didn't you?"

"No one has…other than me."

Juana's face softens. Her cheeks are tearstained too. She must have been quietly crying while she tended to me.

I take her hand in mine and guide it to a new spot where I'm feeling the movement of my baby. She smiles. She can feel it.

"I want to know you, Juana," I say. "I've wanted that for years. I hoped before I ever had a family of my own, we would know each other."

She breathes in deeply. "I am sorry I was too late."

"No, you were just in time." I wrap my hand around hers and bring it to my face, let her hand cup my cheek. I close my eyes, letting more tears stream down my cheeks. No sobs this time.

"Please let me know you," I say, my voice breaking.

"That's what I want, Camilla. I want that so badly." Her other hand cups my opposite cheek. She tucks some of my curls behind my ears, smiling to herself. "I mourn the years we did not have together, but I am so happy you've made a beautiful life."

I smile. "Let me tell you about it."

"I would like nothing more."

Juana and I spend so much time in the backroom that Jack has to come and check on us. I've been relaying to her my life story. All the details. She smiles, asks questions, and lets me talk. Almost like we are at the dinner table and she's asking me about school.

"We've just closed up," Jack says with a trepidatious smile. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Of course." Juana pats my hand. "I've overstayed my welcome."

"That's not possible."

Jack comes up behind my chair and places a hand on the back of my neck. I may not be on edge anymore, but there is undoubtedly still tension in my body that eases at his touch. "How long are you in town, Juana?"

"My husband and I decided to make it a bit of a long weekend getaway. We'll be flying back to New Mexico Sunday night." She looks at me. "We brought Sofia. I understand if you're not ready to–"

"I'm ready whenever you are," I say. I want to meet my little sister. My biological one. Especially since she wants to meet me.

Juana beams. "Well, I'll talk it over with my husband tonight and maybe we can all get dinner or something."

"I'd like that."

Jack clears his throat. "Your mom and dad also stuck around." He gives Juana an apologetic look with those dark brown eyes. "I hope you don't mind I told them."

Her smile doesn't fade as she gets to her feet. "I didn't know they were here! I want to thank them for–for–" She looks at me, hands fold in prayer. "For everything."

We all exit the manager's office into the backroom where my parents are talking in low whispers. When they see us, they let out loud midwestern exclamations. The "Oh my gosh!" and "Goodness gracious!" kind.

Juana goes right to my mother while my dad comes up to me.

"You all right?" he asks, sliding a hand over the back of my head.

"Yeah, I'm great," I say with a vehement nod.

He smiles, an almost sad thing. "Things aren't different, right? We're still…you know."

" Dad ."

His Adam's apple bobs at the mere mention of his name.

"Nothing has changed. I've just gotten better."

"Oh, Cami. You've always been the best."

I lean into him as he squeezes.

If I was the best before, then I'm dynamite now.