Chapter 9 - The Truth Was Bigger Than Being Abandoned
Rebecca and I spoke for ninety-three minutes.
I know because I stared at the call duration after we hung up.
Her voice sounded nothing like Diane’s.
Softer.
Slower.
She did not call herself my mother.
She introduced herself as Rebecca.
That mattered.
She told me about the addiction without minimizing it.
She had been unsafe.
She had disappeared for days.
She had stolen money from Grandma.
She had driven once after taking pills.
Diane and Mark had every reason to protect me.
“I signed the adoption papers,” Rebecca said.
“Willingly?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
The answer hurt more than I expected.
“I thought letting Diane and Mark raise you was the least selfish thing I had ever done.”
“What changed?”
“I got well.”
She had expected recovery to restore opportunities she had lost.
It didn’t restore motherhood.
By the time she reached two years sober, the adoption was final.
She consulted an attorney.
There was no simple undo button.
So she asked Diane for contact instead.
Pictures.
Letters.
Eventually supervised visits.
Diane refused.
“Did you try to take the adoption back?”
Rebecca was quiet.
“I asked an attorney whether I could challenge it.”
“So Mom told the truth.”
“Partly.”
Rebecca had never filed a legal challenge.
Her lawyer told her the odds were poor and the process could destabilize my life.
She backed away.
“But Diane used that conversation for years,” Rebecca said. “Any time I asked to send you something, she said I was trying to steal you.”
I closed my eyes.
That sounded like Diane too.
There was one more complication.
Rebecca had not stopped contacting the family because she gave up.
She stopped because when I was fourteen, she received an email apparently from me.
My chest tightened.
“What email?”
Rebecca still had it.
She forwarded it while we were on the phone.
The message said:
I know who you are. Please stop contacting my family. Diane is my mother. I don't want a relationship with you.
My name was signed at the bottom.
I had never written it.
I was fourteen years old when someone decided Rebecca should believe I had rejected her.
Only three people in our house had regular access to the family computer then.
Diane.
May you like
Mark.
And Logan.
