“Paloma!” She smiles and pulls me in for a hug before gesturing for me to step into her home.
“Take a seat on the couch. I know it looks a bit funky, but Ipromise it's comfortable. Got it at one of those fun second-hand stores in town.”
The couch is a vibrant hot-pink velvet, perfectly complementing the rest of the home, which is adorned with shades of orange, blue, and pink. The colors in the small home are simultaneously overwhelming and comforting, creating an atmosphere that strangely calms my nerves.
I take a seat as Catherine settles into one of the mismatched velvet armchairs across from me. She kicks her feet up on the coffee table, her sequined bell-bottom leggings swishing slightly as she smiles.
“Goodness. You look just like my Brandy did.”
I sit forward, eager to know more, “I do?”
She nods, smiling gently, “You’ve got her eyes. Hers were brown, not the same shade as the beautiful ones that you have, but the shape and the way yours just slightly,” she motions with her hand in the air theatrically upwards, “Tilt upwards, that’s all her.”
I smile. Though it isn’t necessary for me to feel connected to her in that way, I liked knowing that her mother noticed some similarities in us.
"Do you have any pictures of her?"
She nods and reaches under the coffee table, handing me a thick, three ring photo album.
"Take a look while I grab us something to drink."
I take a deep breath as Catherine leaves the room, then cautiously flip open the binder. Photo after photo fills the glossy pages, showcasing the smiling face of my birth mother, Brandy. I study each picture carefully, smiling at her baby photos and watching her grow up before my eyes.
We do look similar, though her skin was much fairer and hair a light blonde color. But our facial features mirrored oneanother even in our teen years and I could see she had a love of performing from the several photos of her holding a faux microphone singing and standing on top of chairs as a little girl.
I’m so engrossed in the album that I don’t notice when Catherine returns until I reach the end where it abruptly stops around what appears to be her teenage years. My eyes move upward to find her gazing at me intently.
“She left home at just seventeen. We didn’t know where she went but eventually found out she’d moved in with a boyfriend she’d made and was auditioning for some small gigs in Hollywood. She knew we wouldn’t approve.” Catherine sighs, “We knew the cost of fame and simply didn’t want her to go down a path we felt she wasn’t prepared to follow. It appears our discouragement only ended up pushing her away, something I deeply regret to this day.”
“I see…”
“So, what would you like to know?” she clasps her hands in her lap, changing the subject as she smiles kindly at me.
“Um… well I guess, did you know she was pregnant?”
She shakes her head vigorously, dangling earrings I hadn't noticed before bobbing back and forth in her short, cropped bob.
“No. Not until you were born, and she’d already made a plan for adoption. She told no one that she was pregnant. Me and her father separated years ago when she was just a toddler, and neither of us had any more children so there weren't many people she was close to. She was a loner in many ways and valued her privacy. I think she kept a lot from us due to her knowing we didn’t approve of her career choice.”
“Did you ever meet my father? Jackson Roe?”
She shakes her head again. “She never mentioned who the father was. I hate to admit this, but when she left home at seventeen, I rarely saw her. She had her own life, and I had mine. We spoke occasionally throughout her twenties, and I saw her once at thegrocery store, but anytime we talked we kept things at a surface level. I know she harbored some bitterness towards me, and I don’t blame her for that.”
I bite my lip and nod, realizing that there is likely not much that Brandy’s mother knows about what she’d been thinking if she hadn’t confided in her about the pregnancy until after I was born and already adopted by the Harts.
“So, what happened to her?” I whisper.
She takes a sip out of the snowflake mug she'd brought with her into the living room. A strange choice for the middle of August but everything about Catherine seemed a bit odd.
“It was an accident. She was working on set for a movie that was filming in Northern California during the peak winter season. She lost control of her car on one trip back to LA and slid into a snowbank. Passed away on impact.”
“That's horrible.”
She nods in agreement, “Devastating. I’m so sorry you didn’t get to meet her. She was a beautiful woman filled with talent and kindness. And though she'd never confided in me why she had chosen to make a plan for adoption, I could tell when she told me about the pregnancy afterwards, she loved you very much and only wanted the best life for you.”
I nod, realizing that even though Catherine can’t tell me much about my mom, this moment is still a gift. Hearing that Brandy had pursued her dreams after my birth and still found success working in Hollywood puts to rest my fears of her pregnancy destroying her career and any regrets she might have had. I also felt better knowing that I’d done everything I could to see her out.
Despite her tragic death, I now felt a sense of peace having answers to questions I'd long wondered about. And though I would never understand everything, I had the gift of Jackson Roe—a man who, although he hadn't raised me or known me asa child, was genuinely interested in getting to know me now.
