Her voice is dismissive. Like it doesn’t bother her that her parents are fuckwads. How could anyone look at Mia and think she’s anything less than perfect? It doesn’t fucking compute.
“Why the fuck would adopting Mia cause a rift with your parents?”
She shifts, frowning and uncrossing her legs. “I miss my old ass. It had way more cushioning.”
Laughing, I pat my lap. “You can sit right here.”
She smirks, her eyes trailing over me. “You don’t look very soft.”
Well, I’m not soft anymore.
I raise my knees, hiding my body’s reaction to her, but hop up when she does. I didn’t even register the movement. I’m just so fucking tuned into her that where she goes, I go.
She wanders over to one of the free-weight benches and straddles it. I sit on the other bench, facing her, and rest my elbows on my thighs. “Mia,” I prompt.
“Right. Well, I’d been working in the NICU for quite a few years by that point. Things with my family weren’t great, but we were doing ok, I thought. They still didn’t love that I was a nurse, but being the head nurse in the NICU gave them a little more bragging rights, I guess. So I saw them twice a year on the holidays. My brother and his wife, then their kids would all come too.”
She pauses, looking thoughtful. “I don’t think that I consciously thought about adoption. But working around the babies everyday kind of made me realize maybe I wanted a family. I was dating casually but hadn’t had any significant relationships for a while. Then Mia came into the NICU. She was going through withdrawal, she was premature, and pretty quickly, they discovered she had a problem with her heart. The odds were stacked against her from the moment she was born.”
My hands clench on my knees. I wish I could have been there for her. For them. “Where was her…birth mom?”
“She didn’t have any prenatal care. And when her baby tested positive for drugs, the social workers got involved. She just walked away without giving the workers any of her information.”
“Why do you look so sad?”
“Mia will never know where she comes from.” She whispers. “And that mother will probably never know where her baby is. It is sad. Adoption is always a result of a loss. One parent is losing their child, while another gains. It’s a traumatic process for everyone involved.”
“I guess I hadn’t really thought about it that way. By the time I was in foster care, no one was talking about adoption for me. It’s weird to think about.” My life would have been so different if I’d been adopted. Standing where I am today, I’m ok with the person I am now.
“How old were you when you went into care?”
“My mom died when I was ten. My brother was thirteen. There aren't many adoptive parents out there for two angry boys. Plus, I was huge already, and I’m pretty sure I had a mustache. Not an attractive package.”
“I’m sorry you lost your mom.” She says, eyes teary.
“Thank you. It turned out ok.”
“Where’s your brother now? I got the impression that, except for Zach and Jonas, none of you were actually related.”
“He’s in prison. Been there for almost eighteen years.” Not wanting to talk about him, I change the subject. “So Mia’s in the hospital, going through way too much for someone so tiny. How did you end up adopting her? Was that the plan from the beginning?”
“No, definitely not the plan. We’d had other kids like Mia in the unit, but there was just something about her that sucked me in. She craved touch so much, needed it. We all took turns holding her after shift. Holly would come in and snuggle her skin to skin, too. And her social workers would come by to check on her. When it was clear that she would make it, they were actually the ones that suggested adoption. Turns out,” she says with a rueful smile, “when you have a child with as many complications as Mia, there isn’t a big line of people looking to adopt.”
Her words echo mine, but I have trouble wrapping my head around them. Who wouldn’t want that precious little baby?
Thank god Evie said yes when they asked her. She’s the best mom for Mia. There’s no doubt in my mind. “So, was it a quick process?”
“It normally isn’t. They fast-tracked my home study and all the other checks.” Her eyes tear up again. “I am so grateful that I adopted, and not just fostered, which would have been my other option.”
“Why?” I ask quietly.
“Because if I had been her foster parent when they took her from me, I would never have gotten her back. But I was legally her mom, so they had to treat me like any other parent in the system.”
Jesus. I can’t even imagine. “I hate you went through all of that. It makes me want to hit someone. Someones’s. I’d kill for a few minutes in a room with Brent and those cops.”
Her mouth scrunches up. “I’d go with you.” She runs her hands over the padded bench, looking lost in thought. I didn’t plan on this conversation today, but I’m desperate to know more about her. About how she came to be this fucking fascinating woman in front of me.
“Evie, why did you cut ties with your parents?”
