wasn’t sure if it was love, fear, or just plain stupidity, but the colors picked up speed when she saw Claire waiting in the parking lot for her.
Claire had her hands jammed into her hoodie pockets, the hoodie pulled up over her hair so that Maya could only see her face. She thought it was still one of the most beautiful faces she had ever seen. “Hi,” Maya said as soon as she was close enough.
“Hey,” Claire said. She sounded disaffected, cool, all blues and violets, the opposite of the hot ember glow that burned inside Maya.
“Hi,” Maya said again. She suddenly felt as dumb as she had the first time she’d met Claire, tongue-tied and awkward. “I just, yeah. I just wanted to tell you. About my birth mom.”
Claire nodded her head toward one of the picnic benches. “You want to sit?”
Maya nodded and followed her.
“So,” Claire said. “Talk.”
Maya wished she had planned this out a bit. She didn’t know what to say or how to say it.
So she told Claire everything.
She told her about Grace and the baby, about Joaquin and Natalie and the failed adoption. She told her about Lauren and their fight, how their mom had looked on the floor with blood coming out of her head, the way her dad had flown home and cried in the hospital when he saw his daughters. She told Claire about the safe and the envelope and the address, their scheduled trip for the next day and how she was missing Family Day at the center. She told Claire everything she could possibly think of to say, and at the end, she felt wrung out and exhausted.
“Okay,” Claire said when she was done. “But My, how do you feel about all of that?”
Maya blinked. “What?”
“How do you feel?” Claire turned to look at her. “Don’t you get it? Every time you get scared or feel all these big things, you run.”
“I—”
“You pushed me away.” There was no missing the wobble in Claire’s voice when she said, “You can’t just keep opening and closing this door, saying nothing to me and then texting me in the middle of the night. Shit, Maya, you broke my heart!”
Maya felt very small sitting in the dark. “I didn’t mean to break anything,” she said. And suddenly she thought of Joaquin. Why? He was saying he didn’t want to be adopted by the two people who loved him more than anything in the world, and . . .
“Oh, no,” she whispered. “I’m doing it, too.”
“Doing what?” Claire asked, but Maya was starting to cry.
“I’m doing it, too,” she wept. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to know. About my mom, about any of it. I got scared and I . . . I panicked. I—I don’t want to be alone!”
“My, My, calm down.” Claire’s hands were soft on her face, softer than Maya had any right to feel. “You’re not alone. A lot of people love you and care about you—what are you talking about?”
“I’m so sorry!” Maya said again. “I’m so sorry, Claire. I miss you so much and I hurt you and I thought that I was only hurting myself, but I hurt you, too, and I’m so sorry . . .”
“It’s okay,” Claire whispered. “I forgive you, it’s okay.” But now she was crying, too, and when she leaned in to kiss Maya, Maya could taste the white-hot salt of their tears mingling together. “It’s okay,” Claire whispered again. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”
“Okay,” Maya whispered back, then kissed Claire again before wrapping her up in her arms. “I don’t ever want to leave you again.”
“So don’t,” Claire murmured against her hair. “I told you last time, I’m not going anywhere.”
It was more than Maya deserved, she realized, but she would take it anyway.
JOAQUIN
Joaquin didn’t tell Mark and Linda about going to look for his birth mom.
He wanted to, though. He wanted to tell someone—anyone—but he didn’t know how. Ana would have made him talk about his feelings. His social worker, Allison, would have probably said something about rules or paperwork. Birdie was—well, Birdie was no longer an option. Joaquin was pretty sure that Mark and Linda would have listened to him, at least, but he wasn’t sure how to look at two people who wanted to adopt him and tell them that he was going to find his birth mom. And after they had given him a car of his very own?