My Marli

14th February 2001

It was a blistering cold day. No moisture in the air, but the type of wind that hits your face like an icy whip. Still, there was something beautiful about the moments when rogue beams of sunlight pierced their way through the gray clouds above.

Imani walked slowly through the park, soaking in the sounds of children playing. Her eyes fell on a lone stroller parked by an empty bench. She found herself drawn to it. As she got closer, she could see a sleeping baby, no more than a year old. A serene cherub with dark curls spilling out the sides of his blue beanie. Imani tentatively sat her slight frame down on the bench and lifted her gaze to scan the playground for a parent. Looking back at her from the swing set was, Nia, a woman who was all soft edges, but had definite strength in her eyes. She was assessing Imani the way any mother does a stranger so close to her child. Imani offered a meek hint of a smile and it was returned by a grin of approval, or something like it. At the very least, she was not deemed a threat. The animal kingdom in all its glory on display. Nia returned her attention to pushing her giggling daughter on the swings.

“Higher. Higher!” the girl squealed.

“That’s high enough. I don’t want you flying away on me.” Nia walked back towards the bench but kept her eyes on the swing set until she reached the stroller. She peered in to see her boy still deep in slumber.

Now that she was closer, Nia’s eyes drank in Imani: pale and gaunt. Wispy hair under a faded red snow cap. Her eyes deliberately fixed forward until, feeling Nia’s gaze upon her, she could no longer avoid making eye contact.

The moment Imani’s big brown eyes lifted, Nia was struck by how much soul there was in them. This was the reason they say, ‘eyes are the window to the soul’. This. This frail young woman sitting on a park bench in the middle of February. There was so much life in them. So much love. And so much sadness. For a moment Nia felt as though she were being sucked into a black hole. She dropped her gaze, which landed on the belly poking through the gap in Imani’s coat.

“Oh, you’re expecting.” Nia blurted out, surprising even herself.

Imani smiled and nodded her head.

“Sorry, I’m Nia.”

“Imani.”

“When are you due?”

“Three months to go.” Imani looked scared. She placed her hands on her belly.

“You’re nervous. Must be your first.”

Imani nodded again.

A piercing scream interrupted the women. Nia’s daughter had fallen from the swing and began to cry. Nia rushed to her and dusted her off.

“You’re okay,” she comforted her. “You just got a fright. I told you not to go too high.”

She took the girl’s hand and led her back to the bench.

Almost scolding herself, Nia winced as she said, “I guess that’s why they say you can’t take your eyes off them for a second.”

This prompted a little laugh from Imani.

“You’ll have your own to push on the swings soon enough” said Nia.

Imani’s mouth curved into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Sensing she had said something wrong, Nia turned back to her sulking child.

“We’d better be getting home. Daddy has a surprise planned for us.”

“For Balentime’s Day?”

“Valentine’s Day. That’s right,” Nia smirked. She turned back to Imani as she released the brake on the stroller. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” replied Imani.

Nia began to leave but turned back to offer some parting advice. “All you can do is love them. You can’t go too far wrong if you just do that.” And with that she was on her way.

Imani let out a deep sigh, as though she had been holding her breath the entire time. Relief.

12th June 2001

Nia poked her head inside the bathroom. In the reflection of the fogged-up mirror, she could barely make out the shape of her husband, Bo, in the shower.

“The kids are both asleep. You wanna watch a movie?”

He popped his head out from behind the partition, and with a mischievous grin replied, “Or you could get in here with me.” Nia smiled and her eyes twinkled at the thought. She pulled her sweater off over her head but was interrupted by the ding of the doorbell.

“Are we expecting someone?”

“Not that I know of. Hurry back.” Bo ducked back under the water.

Nia walked to the front door. A quick glance through the peephole revealed nobody. Weird. She opened the door and her eyes instantly fell upon a bassinet with a newborn inside.

Nia’s eyes flew up and darted around the street. She spotted the silhouette of a woman scurrying away under the glow of a nearby streetlamp.

“Oh no, no, no, no, no.” Nia dashed down the stoop and ran after her, quickly catching up. She grabbed the woman by the arm and spun her around. It was the woman from the park. She was breathless and her tear-soaked face looked like a trapped animal.

“What are you doing?” Nia demanded.

“Please take her.”

“What? I can’t, she’s yours.”

“I’m dying.” Imani’s words hung in the air. Nia didn’t know how to respond. “I knew when I met you that you would take care of her.” Nia was still dumbstruck, so Imani continued. “There’s a large envelope in the side of the bassinet. I’ve signed adoption papers and written my instructions, or wishes, for her life. And there’s a letter for her. Marli. That I want you to give to her on her 21st birthday.”

Nia finally got her mouth to move, “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have anybody else.”

“You must.”

“I don’t.” Imani’s eyes were desperate, pleading with Nia. “You told me that all you have to do is love them. I love her. More than I even knew was possible. But I don’t have much longer. And I can die peacefully if I just know she’s safe. So I’m asking you. Because you were kind, when so many haven’t been. Can you please…” Imani started to break. “… just love her for me.”

Nia was speechless again, but she nodded solemnly.

Imani closed her eyes for a long blink, “Thank you.” And with that, she turned and dashed away into the night.

Nia walked in a daze back to her door, now noticing the duffle bag next to the bassinet. She looked down at the stirring baby fondly. “Hi Marli.”

17th May 2022

Marli plopped down onto the couch, smiling. A ribbon attached to a helium-filled balloon drifted in front of her face. She yanked on it and pulled the pink balloon down into her lap. She surveyed the room. Paper plates with remnants of birthday cake. Scrunched up wrapping paper. Half-empty plastic champagne flutes.

Hours earlier, the house had been bustling with people who were all eager to share their congratulations. Marli had found it odd that twenty-one years was something to be congratulated for when nothing had really been accomplished, other than simply living. Her smile faded a little at the thought. Maybe just surviving was an accomplishment.

“How did you like your party?” Marli’s mother, Nia, interrupted her thoughts.

“I loved it! Thanks.”

Nia came and sat next to her on the couch. She had an envelope in her lap and just by the way she was holding it, Marli could see it was a big deal.

“This is for you.” Nia offered it to Marli.

“Mom, no. You’ve spoiled me enough already.” She laughed and tried to refuse it.

Nia hesitated for a moment. “It’s from your birth mother.” The balloon slid from Marli’s hands.

“What?” Marli’s face was blank. A mix of shock and confusion.

“She asked me to give it to you on your 21st birthday.”

“You’ve had this for 21 years and didn’t tell me?!” Marli could feel herself starting to boil. Nia offered nothing but the letter in response.

“Say something!” Marli demanded. “How many times have I asked you about her growing up?”

“I know. I know. But I promised her. When you look into another mother’s eyes and make a promise to her about the life of her child, you know you have to honor that promise.”

Marli snatched the letter from Nia. She turned it over in her hands, examining her mother’s writing. ‘Marli’ was scrawled across the front, and she could tell it had been written with care, as though she knew it would be scrutinized like this decades later.

Marli barely noticed Nia rise and leave the room as she carefully slipped her thumb under the back flap and opened the envelope. The letter was only one sheet. That’s too short. Marli felt a sense of panic rise in her. ‘I need more than that’ she thought.

Marli, my love.

Happy 21st Birthday!

I wish I could be there to celebrate with you in person If it’s at all possible, I’ll be there in spirit.

Enclosed with this letter is the key to the black bag I have left in Nia’s care. I hope this will give you the answers to all your questions.

Love always,

Mom x

Marli hadn’t noticed the tears rolling down her cheeks until now. She looked up to see Nia had returned. She was standing in the doorway with a black leather duffle bag. Marli returned her attention to the envelope, fishing out a small key.

Nia placed the bag on the coffee table in front of Marli.

“Honey?” Nia softly asked, “Are you okay?”

“I just need to be alone.” Marli scooped up the bag and dashed to her bedroom.

Laying the bag on the bed and sitting down next to it, Marli felt afraid to open it. She craved desperately to know her birth mother, but how could a duffle bag possibly give her that. She tried to prepare herself for disappointment, but the butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t quiet.

She placed the key in the lock and turned, then pulled back the zipper. Inside the bag was a black moleskin notebook laid atop a pile of cash. A lifetime of unanswered questions pushed her forward. Marli pulled out the notebook and flicked through the pages. They were full of writing, every page, back and front, from cover to cover. Marli was overwhelmed. It felt like a lot, but also not enough. Her head was spinning. She turned to the first page:

My Marli,

I’m going to tell you everything. The history of our family. How I met your father. Our life together, though it was cut short. Why I chose Nia. Why I wanted her to wait to give you this. My hopes for you. My advice for the big moments in your life. It will never replace me being there with you, I know that, but I hope it can provide some comfort.

Let’s start with the bag, seeing as you have just opened it and are no doubt wondering if I robbed a bank. I didn’t. It’s the money from selling everything I owned. Twenty thousand dollars. I know that’s not a lot for a person to have at the end of their life, but between medical bills for your father, and then mine… you get the picture.

Oh, there is so much to tell you, and though I’m sad that I don’t get to share it with you myself, I am overjoyed at the thought of my beautiful twenty-one-year-old daughter sitting down and listening to the tales of her mother. Now, let’s start with the most important thing I can ever tell you:

You were made in love and very much wanted. Never question that. I have dreamed of you my entire life…