Chapter 11 - DIANE MEETS US
Diane was twenty-six.
She looked younger until she stopped smiling.
Then older.
Green eyes.
Emily’s eyes.
No ambiguity there.
We met at Northwest Family Pathways.
Andrew.
Claire.
Me.
Diane.
Therapist.
No Frank.
Diane sat with both hands around a paper cup.
“I don’t want to disrupt her.”
Claire answered:
“Good.”
Not warm.
Honest.
Diane nodded.
“I don’t expect to be Mom.”
Claire’s shoulders lowered slightly.
“I’m her mother.”
“I know.”
“Not because biology doesn’t matter.”
“I know.”
“Because I raised her.”
“I know.”
Diane cried.
“I know.”
That repetition changed the room.
I asked:
“Why did you trust Frank to mail everything?”
“Because I was ashamed to deal with the agency myself at first.”
“Later?”
“He said they stopped accepting contact.”
“Did you verify?”
“No.”
She looked down.
“He showed me a letter.”
My skin went cold.
“What letter?”
Supposedly from the adoption agency.
It said:
The adoptive family requests no further correspondence.
May you like
Northwest Family Pathways had never sent it.
We had another forged document.
