“It's just that, and I'm not sure, but I think I may know who your people are. My family comes from the Limbe Province. Have you ever heard of that?" She looks at me hopefully, but all I can do is shake my head, no.
“All I know is that I'm Haitian. I don't remember where I'm from. I don't remember a lot. I lost my memory of the events surrounding my parents’ leaving and our coming to Columbia.” I shrug, feeling helpless. “I only recovered a little of my memory the other day after seeing Kandie when she escaped Nathaniel Simpson.”
“You probably noticed when we met I looked at you oddly—” When I nod she continues, “I have a distant cousin. She's much older than me, and though I only saw her a few times growing up,” her face takes on this faraway look. “She was always kind to me, and she had the most beautiful smile. When I saw you, I couldn't stop thinking about your smile. The smile reminded meso much of Angelique. Does that name sound familiar to you, Angelique?”
It doesn't, but I want it to be so. I want that so badly, yet I cannot lie.
“No.” Nose stinging and more tears threatening to fall, I shake my head. “I can't remember.”
Reaching out, she grasps my hands. Her grip is strong, almost unyielding.
“I reached out to the diocese from our region, and I asked one of the nuns to check the christening records from about the time I thought you’d have a christening.
She went back starting twenty-two years, but she found your name. It's just about 20 years ago.
Sabine Marie Toussaint was born on December eighteenth, two thousand five, to Angelique and Pierre Toussaint of the Limbe Province, Haiti. She sent me these.”
My heart is thudding so hard I can feel the pulsating in my ears. Everything is drowned out as I look at the documents that were scanned and sent to Peace. I'm astounded. Wonder permeates every fiber of my being as I look at the words until they become blurry. I knew the trauma I’ve been through robbed me of my memory of my parents. I knew I was a survivor and a victor because I was still alive and went unmolested. Still, that was a part of me that always longed to know. About my family, my parents and where I was from. Not only because it was ripped from me — my heritage, my people, causing me to cobble together a new life, and an existence not my own. Though I was welcomed by el Diablo, Snake, Lourdes and Angel, a part of me always felt hollow. But I was never ungrateful for their becoming my family. At least now I know my parents’ names.
“I – I don't know what to say. Mési, mèsi anpil. You gave me my parents back.” An overwhelming sense of gratitude fills me as I look at Peace.
“There's more." Another smile breaks across her face, making her look even more beautiful. “After the inquiry, I thought it was over, but then Sister Celestine called me to tell me that your parents survived.” The reality I’ve lived for the last ten years shatters before my eyes.
“But,” words dry up on my tongue. Snake said there was no way they could've survived that attack. In fact, the reports that we received were that there were no living victims, including us, which allowed us to escape the national police. They thought they had killed everyone who had witnessed their crimes. Unlike Hadrián, my parents had no resources. They had no one they could turn to for help to get them out of the country. So how did they do it?
“How?” Looking at her, I can't allow myself to believe it. I can't allow my hope to be shattered right after I learned their names.
“I don't have all the details but they are alive. They came to America seeking asylum and are now US citizens.” Her eyes are brimming with unshed tears as she tells me this.
My thoughts spiral. “How long have they been here? What do they think happened to me?”
“I don't know the full story.” Her face takes on a somber cast. “They think you were trafficked and made a Restavek. Many don't survive more than two years, so they think you passed away.”
Deep, blinding sorrow falls upon my spirit. My poor parents. All they wanted was to give me a better life, and now to be left thinking their decisions led to my death had to be the worst feeling imaginable.
We sit for a long time as she shares more information with me. “They are in New Orleans, and they own a restaurant. It’s modest, but they've done well. You now also have two sisters anda brother. I don't know their ages. I’ve not been in contact with my family for many years.”
She doesn't fill me in on why, and I know there's a story there, but I don't pry. She's already done so much for me in the short time that we've known each other. I don't wanna do anything that makes her feel uncomfortable. I know what it's like not wanting to share your past and feeling like there's no one you can trust with your secrets.
My mind is reeling at the knowledge that I have a whole family just two states away. I can't help but cringe at the thought of them seeing me looking like a biker chick with tattoos from my ankles to my throat. I can't imagine what two God-fearing Catholics would think of their daughter shacking up with a man almost ten years her senior.
“When will you contact them?” She asks after giving me their information so I can put it in my phone.
We walk around the building to the front where my bike is parked before I can answer.
“I don't know. This is all so much to process right now.” I don't say it was really bothering me that they'd be disappointed when they saw me. “I’m not the little girl who was lost to them all those years ago. I became something else. I had to survive.”I hear the panicked worry in my voice. I can already feel myself spiraling.
“Saban.” She says coming up to my bike as I get on. “I know this was a lot to take in, but don't let too much time pass. You've already missed so much. "
Nodding, starting my bike, I pull on my helmet. Revving my engine instead of throwing her words back at her because I don't know her story. I just know there is one. Neither can I just jump into this new Saban’s world order of my life only to be rejected.
I'm a big enough girl now to know that we paint rosy pictures of the realities we want to have. I did that for years withSnake, hoping he'd take notice of me, only to face distance and reputation by him every time we get close to something real.
I don't know if I'm able to take that from people who were supposed to love me from the start. I just can't.
chapter twenty-three
LAYING CLAIM
