Jessica Warman - Where the Truth Lies

epilogue

My mother. My father. The words have whole different meanings now. I dont remember my real father at all. Now that I know the truth, will the memories ever surface? Will I see him before the fire, when I was two, three years old? My mother told me she has pictures somewhere; will they trigger any recollection? And what about Sandy Gray? Will I want to go back someday and tell her who I am? In my heart, I know shell want to know that Im healthy, happy, safe. Maybe she couldnt be a mother when I was a baby, but she looked like a good one when I saw her. People change. They make mistakes. They have regrets that haunt them for their entire lives.

Even though its a school night, I sleep at home tonight instead of at my dorm. There is simply too much left to be said for me to walk away. After such a surreal day at schoolchemistry, Ethan, his invitation to the promI want to be at home. Even though its not my home, not really. Its funny; Ive always considered myself somehow different from all of the boarding students here at Stonybrook, because my parents were so much more present. I was the headmasters daughter. I could go home whenever I wanted. But now, it seems that Im more like them than I could ever have imagined. I cant really go homenot ever. I dont know where home is. Its something that existed, for me, fifteen years ago for a brief period of time. Then it went up in flames.

Im grateful that, for once, my parents havent recruited Dr. Miller to mediate our time together this evening. They have nearly finished a bottle of wine by the time I arrive. We order a pizza and sit around the kitchen table. Theres one thing I want them to understand; its the most important thing of all, really.

I want you to know that Im not angry anymore about what you did, I tell them.

I kidnapped you, my mother says. She holds her wineglass by its stem, twisting it back and forth between her thumb and middle finger, staring at the reflective contents. I had no right to do it, but I couldnt stop myself. I couldnt let you stay with that woman. It felt like feeding you to the wolves.

MomMommyits okay, I tell her. Ive been thinking about her all day. After I saw my babymy mom flinches at the mention of my baby I understood why you did what you did.

It was illegal, she says.

Not really, my dad interrupts. Its a gray area. Sandy relinquished her parental rights to Emily. Legally, she wasnt her guardian anymore. And we have the adoption papers to prove that shes ours

The adoption papers we had forged for us! The birth certificate we had altered when she was four years old. What if she applies for a passport, and they notice somethings wrong? What then? My mom shudders. I had no choice but to do the wrong thing. I dont know how to explain it beyond that. She looks at me. You wanted me, Emily. You only knew me as your mother. Youd just lost your father. You have to understand.

I do understand, I tell her. I just want to know I guess I just want to know why my real mother didnt want me in the first place.

She was very young, my mom says. After you were born, she developed a drug problem, like I told you. Amphetamines. When she and your father split up, she knew there was no chance that shed get custody of you, and to tell the truth, I think she was probably so overwhelmed by the idea of what a mess her life had become that she was grateful to run away from everything.

My father has opened another bottle of wine. He refills my mothers glass.

I can tell you something, though, Emily. I never met your mother. I never saw her, aside from that one time outside her trailer. But I know this much. My mom takes a big swallow of wine. I know that she loves you. I know that she did what she thought was best. And I guarantee, theres not a day that goes by that she doesnt think of you. Im just as sure of that as I am of my own love for you.

I know shes right. I look at my father. Here is the man who raised me, who put his own neck on the line to make me legally his , who treated me like his own child for almost my entire life. Ive never felt, not for a second, that I dont belong to him.

Well, he says, looking at me, youre eighteen now. If you wanted to, you could go back to your mother and tell her what happened.

No, I say, I wont do that. I pause. But I was thinking of writing her a letter. Maybe someday. Not to reach out and get to know herjust to tell her that Im safe, and I understand, and I want the best for her.

They both stare at me. Emily, my father says, youve really grown into quite a young woman.

Yeah, well, its been a broadening couple of years.

And then my father does what I least expect him to do. He stares at me for a few seconds. Then he laughs. My mother follows. All I can do is sit there, half-smiling, relieved to have even the slightest release in tension.

Broadening, he says, wiping his eyes. Thats rich. He takes another sip of wine. Its dark outside; there are no lights on in the kitchen except for a lone track light above the sink. We are all shadows and breath and the light stink of booze. Things become silent.

Well, my father finally says, what now?

My mother studies her glass. Maybe its time we finally redecorated your room, Emily. She looks at me. Youre not a little girl anymore.

No. I guess Im not.

Ive decided to go to Sarah Lawrence, I tell them. And Im going to the prom with Ethan.

My father looks at me. Sarah Lawrence? Youre staying on the East Coast?

I nod.

Youre sure you dont want to go to UConn? Maybe something a little less

Challenging? No. I shake my head. Ill work hard. It will be okay.

My mother closes her eyes for a moment. I can tell shes trying not to cry. I cant imagine she has any tears left inside her; I know I dont.

Mom? I ask. Are you okay?

She nods, her eyes still closed. Its just that, I remember when you were small, I used to dread the idea of your going to the prom someday.

Really? Why?

Oh I was afraid youd end up with the wrong boy. I was afraid youd get into some kind of trouble. You knowjust the usual mothers worries.

But not now, I say. My voice is almost a whisper.

No, she says. Not now. Not anymore.

My father puts down his wineglass. He reaches out, takes my hand, takes my mothers hand, and then I reach for my mother, and the three of us sit around the table together, the light slipping away into darkness, a silent family holding itself tightly together, with nothing left to say for the night.

acknowledgments

I want to thank my family for their continued encouragement and support as they endured all of my late nights and weekends spent working on this book. I simply could not have done it without their patience, understanding, and repeated willingness to order takeout in lieu of a home-cooked meal.

I cant possibly express my gratitude to my editor, Stacy Cantor, who is an absolute joy to work with. You are an amazing cheerleader and a fabulous editor whose perception and support are invaluable. Your energy and enthusiasm are contagious and consistently inspire me to do my best.

None of this would be possible without my agent, Andrea Somberg, who has been with me since the very beginning and whose support has been unwavering. I simply cant thank you enough for all that youve done. Ill never forget getting my first phone call from you when I was twenty-three years old and feeling so excited to be talking to someone from New York City! Never in a million years could I have imagined what was in store.

chapter one

I have insomnia. Actually, I have something called night terrors. So its not that I cant sleepits more like Im afraid to sleep. And when I finally do, its almost always that kind of half-awake struggle, a fight to find some rest in between the real world and the part of my subconscious where nightmares unfold and wrap themselves around me. Its always hard to tell the difference, to know where I really am. Most of the time, I wake up gasping for air. Sometimesbut not very oftenIll find my breath and wake up screaming. My nightmares are always about the same things: fire or water. Never both at once.