The Valeditztorian (30 page)

“What about Dad?”

“Him?” she asked, as we watched my father point out a turtle to Aimee. “He’s just a man. I realize that this is going to sound terrible, but unlike children, husbands and lovers are fairly disposable commodities.”

“Don’t you love him?”
I asked.

“Of
course I love him,” she said. “But no man is as important as your child. So I didn’t understand how you could give away your baby, as though she meant nothing to you.”

“At the time,
” I said, “I was looking at things completely differently—as though she didn’t belong to me at all.”

“Do you still feel th
e same way now—that she’s not your responsibility? For goodness sakes, Emma…look at her. Aimee is a beautiful, gifted child. She reminds me so much of you.”

As I watched
Aimee rippling the water with her fingertips, laughing with my father, the answer to my mother’s question was painfully obvious.

“If I’d never me
t her,” I said,” I’d probably still feel the same way. But after everything that’s happened, the answer to your question is no—I don’t feel that way anymore. She’s my daughter, and she always will be.”

My mother sighed
.

“You weren’t the only one who was wrong.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“When you gave Aime
e up for adoption, I couldn’t stop myself from envisioning all sorts of terrible things happening to her. Abuse, hunger, abandonment…I worried about every bad circumstance that could possibly befall a child. Then I started having nightmares, which got to be so horrendous that I couldn’t sleep at night.”

“I’m sorry, Mom
. I didn’t realize you went through all that.”

“
It wasn’t a great time in my life. When I stopped functioning at work, your father brought me to see a psychiatrist, who prescribed some medication. Once I was able to sleep again, things got somewhat better.”

“Dad never mentioned anything
.”

“I asked him not to
. I want you to understand, Emma, that even though I never held my grandchild, I thought about her all the time, and I loved her—even before she was born. When I sent you to live with Aunt Pam, I kept hoping that the separation would change your mind about the adoption. Then you followed through with it anyway, which just about killed me. Afterward, seeing you in person was just too painful, since it reminded me of everything we’d lost.”

Ouch
.

“But I also made a mistake,
” she said.

“You did?”

“Yes. I never considered the perspective of the adoptive parents.”

“Carla and Roberto
Santos are good people,” I said.

“They certainly are, and Aimee was
very lucky that they were the ones who adopted her. But do you know what I think, Emma?”

“What?”

“That Carla and Roberto were even luckier to find Aimee. Can you imagine what might’ve happened to them if they’d never connected with your daughter?”

“I think about that all the time.”

“I’m guessing they would’ve gotten divorced years ago, and Roberto would surely be dead by now.”

“So you’re saying
it’s a good thing that they adopted her?”

“Yes and no
. I still don’t agree with your decision to give her away, and normally I’m not a big believer in divine intervention. But in this case, as much as I hate to admit it, I think things worked out exactly as God intended them to.”

Hearing my mother utter the
se words, I almost fainted in disbelief.

“I love you, Mom,” I said, reaching out to hug her
.

“I love you
too, Emma. And I want you to know, sweetheart, that I never stopped loving you.”

E
mbracing me, she kissed the top of my head.

While my mother and I were making progress, Red was a different story
. For various reasons I debated confessing to him. On the one hand, my secrecy had allowed him to graduate from college with no familial or financial obligations, just as it had for me. On the other, we’d already missed out on the early life of our child. As I got to know Aimee and her family, this loss seemed increasingly significant. Eventually the truth won out.

One midsummer’s eve
, not long after I stood on the bridge with my mother, I mustered the courage to call him.

“Hey, Red,” I said
. “How are you?”

“
Emma, it’s been awhile,” he replied. “It’s great to hear your voice!”

“Likewise,” I said.

“So what’s new?” he asked.

“You
go first,” I said, trying to hide the anxiety in my voice. “What’s happening with you and your family?”

“Oh, not much
. Tricia and I are really busy with the kids. Our oldest is taking ballet and swim lessons, and our middle one is playing soccer. With all the driving we’re doing to the kids’ classes, the two of us are feeling like professional chauffeurs.”

“I can’t say I know what that feels like
. Living in the city, I don’t do much driving at all.”

“Spe
aking of which, how’s Manhattan these days?” Red asked.

“Oh, it’s great
. I feel like I’m always going to see some terrific new show or museum exhibit. I love living here.”

“Sometimes I envy you, Emma.”

“How so?”

“Well, look at your life
. You’re still young, living the big-city life, with no kids and no real responsibility. Plus you’re going to become a doctor. That’s pretty awesome.”

“About the ‘no kids’ part…,
” I said.

“What about it?”

“Well, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, for quite a long time.”

“What
? That you’re jealous of me because I started young and already have three great kids? I am pretty lucky in that respect.”

“I do agree that your kids are wonderful, and you’re very lucky to have them
. But I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about something related, that happened a long time ago…back in high school.”

“Really
? What is it?”

“Do you recall that when we broke up,
I transferred to a new school?”

“Yeah, of course
. It was a pretty big deal when you left home.”

“R
emember how I told you that I won a scholarship to an exclusive private school in the city?”

“Uh, huh.”

“The exclusive boarding school was actually my Aunt Pam’s house.”

“Your Aunt ran a boarding school?

“No, Red. I just moved into Pam’s two-bedroom ranch in White Plains.”

“Not a fancy private
school in Midtown?”

“No
pe.”

“And you didn’t win a scholarship?”

“I didn’t, though my mother practically paid me to move out.”

“Why wo
uld she do that? You and your mom always got along really well, didn’t you? And why the heck did you lie to me?” he asked, the volume of his voice rising.

At the time, I wasn’t sure whether he was angry
, or afraid of what I might say next.

“Red, I was pregnant.”

“Pregnant?”

He
practically whispered the word.

“Yes.”

“You’re not lying to me now, Emma? ’Cause at the moment I’m not sure what to believe.”

“No, I’m not lying
. After hiding this for a very long time, I’m finally telling you the truth.”

“Can I ask who the father was?”

I almost started laughing.

“Who do you think?”

“At the moment, I don’t know what to think. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“I’m the same person I’ve always been
. I just had a baby in high school without telling you.”

“Let’s get back to the
question about the father for a minute, okay?”

“You
, Red. Who else could it have been? At the time, you were my only boyfriend.”

“And the baby?”

“You’ve known me since high school. At sixteen, there was no way that I could’ve taken care of a baby.”

“But you just said you ‘had’ a baby, didn’t you
? You didn’t have an abortion?”

“No
. I gave the baby up for adoption.”

“You gave away our baby?”

“No, Red. The baby wasn’t ‘ours.’ Don’t you remember all the trouble you were getting into back then? The drinking, the lying….”

“But I never….”

“Oh, yes you did. You lied to me all the time. Then you crashed your father’s car, and a week later I found out I was pregnant. So excuse me for being presumptuous, but at the time, it didn’t look like you were ready to become a father.”

“But Emma, that should’ve been my choice
to make.”

“Well I wasn’t ready to be a mother
, okay?” I yelled, my voice breaking on the last word. “And it wasn’t up to you to make that decision for me.”

Then I started sobbing
.

“Go ahead, Emma,” said Red
. “Cry if you want to. I’m so angry with you, I don’t feel badly at all. Before I hang up, though, I need you to answer one question. What happened to the baby?”

“She’s not a baby anymore,” I said, struggling to get the words out
. “She’s an amazing nine-year-old girl, and she lives a few blocks away from me in the city, with her parents.”

“Her parents?
” said Red.

“Her adoptive parents.”

“That’s just great,” he said sarcastically.

“Yeah, except that a few months ago, she almost lost her father
. And if she hadn’t stolen an experimental cancer drug and injected it into her dad, he probably would’ve died.”

“Whoa, Emma
. Slow down, there. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but one thing’s for sure.”

“What’s that?”
I asked.

“You are freakin’ crazy,” he said.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes, you a
re! So after I hang up, do me a favor and don’t call back.”

“Call my mother, Red.”

“What?”

“If you don’t believe me, call my mother
. She’ll confirm everything I’ve just said.”

“I don’t think so
. Go find a good psychiatrist, Emma. Goodbye.”

“Bye
.”

For a few weeks following that conversation Red refused to speak to me, but eventually
he calmed down. After discussing the situation with my mother, the diplomat, Red traveled to New York to meet Aimee, and she completely won him over. Next came Red’s wife, followed by their three children, Aimee’s half-siblings. Like a bunch of dominoes, they all kept falling at her feet. Fortunately, Red and his family are pretty open-minded people. Then again, after meeting Aimee, who wouldn’t be? Not that I’m biased.

Which brings us back to the holidays, with all of us under one roof
. My family has never felt so large, or so whole. From the kitchen, my mother glances at me and smiles. In the fancy living room, Roberto and my dad clink their beer mugs together. As Aimee races through the apartment with the other children in a game of tag, the kids all look flushed and happy, and none of the adults has the heart to scold them. Next to the Christmas tree, Red and his wife share an almost indecent kiss, which doesn’t upset me at all. At least I think it doesn’t. Perhaps I’m finally over him.

Did I mention David, the sexy
balding guy from my ballroom dance class, who’s standing by my side? Remarkably, the man is an unmarried orthopedic surgeon, living on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. Though we reside on opposite sides of the city, we’ve been meeting regularly to perfect our technique, both on and off the dance floor.

Recently we went swing dancing together at a club in Midtown.

“Wow, Emma,” he said, leading me toward our table at the end of “Rock This Town” by the Stray Cats.

“What
is it?” I asked.

“During that entire
song, you didn’t step on any of my toes.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“It’s a miracle.”

“No sweetheart,” he said, kissing the back of my neck. “It’s not a miracle. You’re an excellent dancer.”

“But I’m so uncoordinated.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t?”

“No. In fact, you’re particularly coordinated when I’m lucky enough to have you in my bedroom.”

Instantly
, I felt my cheeks flush.

“
I love it when you start turning colors,” said David. Whispering in my ear, he asked, “Did you know that your back turns red when you orgasm?”