Truth Revealed

I slump into my bed as a dramatic sigh escapes my lips. Boxes are cascaded around me from wall to ceiling. I’m surprised the movers even managed to get all of these boxes into my new, smaller room. I know I should be grateful to even have a place I can call home; in fact, the reason we moved is because of my dad’s new promotion. But seriously, couldn’t I have gotten a room that didn’t simulate Harry Potter’s room under the stairs?

I take out a pocket knife and open the box closest to my bed. “Mia’s Bedroom” is written across the side in scraggly letters. The tape gives, and I peek inside. I’m hoping to find something sentimental. Instead, it’s filled to the top with underwear. Great. I let out a little chuckle as my mom opens the door.

“Hey, Olivia. The movers just left. I know we have a lot to unpack, but it’s been a long day and we’re thinking of going out to dinner,” she says. My stomach grumbles at the thought.

“Yes, please. I’m starving.” And I also need to get out of this room.

I jolt awake the next morning. My heart stammers as I take in my surroundings. Where am I? As I turn my head, I notice the several boxes strewn across the room, and it all comes rushing back to me. The sun shines through the curtains, illuminating the speckles of dust floating through the air.

I feel a new sense of purpose as my eyes adjust to the light. I manage to find a box with some athletic shorts and shirts. After putting on some clothes, I run a brush through my hair, quickly brush my teeth, and run downstairs for some much needed breakfast. The heavenly aroma of pancakes and bacon wafts through the air.

“Well good morning sweetie!” my mom chirps when I enter the kitchen. Various boxes are torn open across the floor, and mixing bowls and other cooking supplies are laid across the large kitchen island.

“Wow, you wasted no time putting this kitchen to use!” I comment as I walk over to the empty mixing bowl and scoop out whatever remnant of pancake batter is left with my fingers. I taste it and give a hum of approval.

“Hey!” My mom swats at my arm teasingly. “The pancakes are almost ready. There’s bacon on a plate over there and some fresh fruit in the fridge.” I thank her as I grab a plate from a box and load it with food. After finishing my breakfast and chatting with my mom for a while, I decide that it’s time to head upstairs and make some progress in my room.

Throwing my hair into a messy top knot, I stretch out my arms and neck. I put in my AirPods and shuffle my workout playlist, deciding to dive right into the boxes closest to the door. After going through those boxes, most of which consist of clothes, I make my way through the other side of the room. My hips jiggle to the beat of my music as I sort through the boxes.

Before I know it, a few hours have passed. Right as I’m about to take a break, a tiny box catches my eye. It’s leaning against the wall behind a giant stack of boxes. This box is smaller than all the other boxes and wrapped in brown paper. Me being the nosy person that I am, I decide to shake the box and notice that it’s pretty light. I tear at the paper and open it, dumping the contents on my bed. A few photos pour out as well as a manilla folder.

The first photo I notice is me as a baby being carried by a younger looking woman. The uncanny resemblance between the woman and I leaves me breathless. As confusion clouds my brain, I pick up another photo; It’s me and the woman again. This time I’m sitting in a high chair, a toothless grin plastered across my face. The woman is looking at me lovingly, a jar of baby food in her hands. What the…

There’s about ten more photos. All of them are vaguely similar, and all contain me and the woman. My head is spinning, and I have to close my eyes for a few seconds. Perspiration coats my forehead, and my hands start shaking.

I grip the manilla folder tightly in my hands for about five minutes before I find the courage to open it. The first form is my birth certificate which I toss aside quickly. I zero in on the next document. I freeze, confusion and betrayal hitting me like a knife in my chest. I feel light headed. The folder falls out of my hands, smacking the ground.

“No. No. No!” I stutter. Panic grips my core. Hot tears ooze out of my eyes.

Adoption Papers.

A heart-wrenching sob escapes my mouth, and I clamp my hand over it. I don’t know how long I sit on my bed for. It could have been hours. It could have been only a minute. Numbness leaves me tingly until the anger takes over. Soon all of my energy seeps out of me, and all I can do is sit on my bed in a trance.

“Sweetie! Dinner’s ready!” calls my mom.

“Hmm!” I jerk out of my trance. Without thinking, I shove the photos and folder back into the box, pushing it under my bed. I glance at my mirror quickly. My eyes are tinged red from crying, and my hair is a mess from running my hands through it. I dab at my eyes with a tissue and quickly comb my ratted hair. As I pad downstairs, my mind buzzes like I’m trapped in a beehive.

After we say grace, my mom goes on about meeting our new neighbors. Apparently, they are quite nice, but I couldn’t care less.

“You haven’t happened to see a smaller box have you, Olivia? It’s covered with brown paper?” my dad questions. He tries to say it lightly, but I can sense an edge to his tone. Panic surges through me.

“Um. I…” Despite my attempt to act cool, I burst into tears. Humiliated and betrayed, I run upstairs to my room. Yanking up my bed’s covers, I crawl under. Hot tears pour out in droves, and I can taste salt on my lips. My whole life has been a lie.

Just as quickly as I ran upstairs, my mom knocks on my door.

“Olivia, it’s me. Can I come in?” I don’t respond, but she comes in anyway. I feel the dip of the mattress beside me as she sits down. We sit in silence for whom knows how long. I finally peek over the covers. She’s chewing her lip, concern etched on every part of her face.

“Where’s the box?” she murmurs. I blink.

“Under the bed.” She reaches under and locates the box. Tears well up in her eyes as she examines the box which is still covered in brown paper, except for the area that I tore at.

“We never planned for you to find out this way.” Her voice is so quiet. It’s weird hearing her like this. She’s usually so chirpy that she practically sings every word that comes out of her mouth. I sit up and grab a tissue from my nightstand to give to her. I can tell this is hurting her as much as it’s hurting me.

“I don’t know how deeply you have looked through this box.” She takes a shuddering breath and looks straight at me. “You're my daughter. You always will be. And I just want you to know that your dad and I love you so much. We’ve loved you since the day we first saw you. But somebody else loved you too. As much as we do.”

Now it was my turn to take a shuddering breath. My mom jumps right into it.

“Your birth mom was a friend of mine. A rather close friend if you know what I mean,” she sighs. Huh? Could she mean…?

“Anyways. Um. We met in college and developed feelings for each other rather quickly. She was the first girl that had ever made me feel that way. I felt like I could truly be myself around her. But my parents were not very understanding to say the least. When I introduced her to them on Thanksgiving, they threatened to cut me off forever and not just financially. So me and her went our separate ways. I met your dad a few years later and we fell in love.

But then she contacted me out of the blue 7 years after we said our goodbyes. I was shocked. She told me that she had a beautiful baby girl. That beautiful girl was you. She also told me that she was dying. Cancer. She needed someone to adopt you. You see, your biological father wasn’t in the picture. The only person that she wanted to raise her daughter was me.”

She takes a second to catch her breath. Everything was sort of rushing out of her, like if she stopped, she wouldn’t be able to continue. She had kept this in for so long. I digest the new information: My mom and this woman, the fact that I had a different mother.

“We didn’t have much time. If she were to die before we had the chance to adopt you, you would’ve gone to someone that was related to her. Your dad and I had been trying for a year to conceive. This felt like it was meant to be. We brought you home four months after that call.” Her voice squeaks during that last line as she starts crying again.

“I know this must be a lot. I’ve wanted to tell you for forever, truly. But I love you so much. Your father and I have loved you like you were our own. In fact, I forget that you were adopted sometimes. You’ve just always been mine.” She sniffles and reaches into the box. “She wrote you a letter two days before she passed. She wanted you to read it when you were older.”

She hands me an envelope. It’s thick and faded. My name is written on it in stunning cursive.

“I’ll leave you to it,” my mom says as she slips out of my room. I stare down at the letter, a tear landing on the envelope, smudging the cursive. I lightly tear it open. This is it. I take a deep breath and start reading.

My Dearest Olivia...