Before he even stepped in, his eyes settled directly on me. Debbie greeted him, but he didn’t answer her. Barely glanced her direction. He stepped forward and sunk into the chair opposite me. Tears were in his eyes.Tears.I felt my own threatening even more than before.
Was he disappointed?
I felt like a germ under a microscope. I shifted, smoothed my hair.
He closed his eyes, shook his head, swallowed. “I—I’m sorry.” He brought his eyes back to mine, tears escaping now. “I’m stunned because you look just like your mom. You are so beautiful.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him, but in the corner of my eye I saw Debbie reaching into her purse for a tissue. My chest tightened.
Don’t cry, Sunny. Don’t cry!
He wasn’t at all what I predicted. He wasn’t real tall, and had blondish-brown hair. He was young, tan, and looked really healthy and strong. He was wearing a Carhartt jacket and work pants. I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, actually. Maybe a mix of gold and green. But they were round, and—what’s the word I’m looking for? Ah, sincere. That’s it. His eyes were sincere. He must’ve meant what he said, because he was looking into my eyes like I was the most amazing thing on the planet.
I looked away. This was not how I had expected the meeting to go.
“I’m Patrick Moore. But everyone calls me Pat.”
My voice cracked. “I’m Sunny.”
Debbie stepped forward and introduced herself to Pat. She quickly explained how visitation worked and showed us into the observed visitation room. She answered a few of his questions. We had two hours. My heart was beating so fast. It was going okay, so far, but this was my first ever visitation. We had to talk and hang out in a room with a glass panel so the caseworker could observe and listen in. Awkward, if you ask me.
The visitation room was pretty bare. There was a table and chairs, some toys in the corner for little kids and a couch. I didn’t know what to do, so I sat on the couch. Pat moved a chair from the table over towards where I sat.
It was quiet. My finger started bleeding again. I shoved my hand under my thigh to soak in the blood on the back of my jeans. I had to stop picking at them.
Pat smiled when he said my name. “Sunny.” His eyes got a little misty again. “That’s a beautiful name.”
“You didn’t name me that?”
“No. Your mom did.” He pushed his hand into his back pocket. “Do you want to see a picture of your mom?”
He pulled it out and handed it across the coffee table to me. The girl in the photo was leaning against Pat. They looked young, maybe a little older than me. He had his arms around her, and she held the camera away from the two of them, taking the photo all on her own.
She was fair skinned, freckled, and had wild red hair. My heart skipped a few beats. She was beautiful. And shedidlook just like me.
A tear leaked down my cheek. I swiped at it as fast as I could and handed the picture back to Pat. I took a deep breath and tucked my hands back under my thighs. “Where is she?”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Sunny.” He touched the back of his neck, and his gaze dropped for a moment. “She died eleven years ago.”
My mom was dead? I hadn’t expected that. I didn’t know how to react though, so I said nothing. A little bit of disappointment crept into my heart. Always kind of wished I’d meet my mom one day.
There was a Kleenex box on the coffee table. He chuckled as he pulled a few out. “I’m kind of a crier. My dad was too. Sorry in advance if it makes things weird.”
Maybe genes made me so sensitive. My heart skipped at the thought of being connected to someone, or someones, in ways like looks and traits. Like maybe I belonged with—to—a family.
I shoved the thought out of my head.
Don’t forget how it ends, Sunny.
I just needed to make it through the meeting as easily as possible.
Pat sniffed and sat up a little straighter. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” He smiled. “Was hoping you’d tell me a bit about yourself.”
“I was hoping you’d tell me a bit aboutyourself.” I didn’t mean to sound snappy, but this was not going the way I’d envisioned.
“Fair enough. Who first?”
“You.”
