how can this be? Could they have known all of this time? Why? It makes no sense.
I walk right in without even knocking, I’m shouting my parents’ names, as I sprint through the house looking for them. Micah hasn’t said a word since we left our house, a part of me wanted to come alone to get my answers, but I needed him here. This concerns him as well.
“Mother!”
“Dad!”
No answer.
“Jesus Christ, where are they?” I shout again a few more times, this time I go straight to their room. Knowing my mother, I know where she most likely keeps things. Her private things, she stores in her closet in a box way in the back. Funny how I seem to do the exact same thing.
Finding the black velvet box, I’m afraid to open it. I’m afraid what I’ll find. My hands shake as I slide the box between my legs. Taking a breath, I look over my shoulder to Micah, who slowly sinks to his knees behind me.
My hands shake, my breath halts. “Well, let’s see if there are any secrets in here.”
I only get a faint head nod from him. His eyes tear up, not knowing what I might uncover. Cautiously lifting the lid, it has blue tissue paper covering it. It seems my mother keeps her things neatly stored.
Moving the tissue back, I notice the stack of envelopes, and my heart plummets. I’m hesitantly moving the tissue back careful not to rip it. Sure enough, I see the name I feared I would find. Sometimes, it hurts even more to be right. At the moment I wanted to be wrong. But I was disappointed once again, knowing what I may uncover makes my heart skip a beat or two.
“Carla Mitchell,” I say thumbing through every last one. “They are all from Carla Mitchell.” I’m in total disbelief.
I say it, but don’t even look back at Micah, because he knows it as well. We both realize what I’m about to uncover.
I look at the dates on the envelopes, praying they don’t date back to around four years ago, but to my astonishment they do. Somber filled tears stream down my cheeks. The letters are in order from newest to oldest. I slowly read the dates, feeling sick. I feel betrayed and downright lied to. At the bottom of the box is a thicker letter that catches my immediate attention. It reads Contract.
What the hell?
Holding the letter so Micah can get a better look, he reads the words, wondering what they mean. I don’t wait, I open the damn thing. Scanning the document it looks legal, it has names, dates and oh my God!
NO!
NO!
NO!
How could they?
My fingers freeze and I’m holding this piece of paper in an iron grip. Seething mad, idle threats escape my lips as I read the details word for hurtful word. Said minor Elsa Winters is willingly giving said child to Mark and Carla Mitchell for adoption. Reading further, I’m morbidly stricken to find out my parents got compensation for the adoption. I’m definitely going to throw up. I’m frantically trying to comprehend that they took payment for my child. The document is notarized, but no mention of a lawyer or Catholic Charities is ever mentioned. Hell, I’m not sure this thing is even legal. As I toss the papers to the floor, Micah is quick to pick them up reading them. He’s not saying one word and the fact he is dead silent terrifies me. I’d rather have him screaming or throwing my mom’s shoes. That way I’d know what he was thinking or feeling right now.
Rocking from side to side, my tears slide faster, when I hear the first sob escape Micah’s throat. How is it even possible? My parents lied to me all this time, never saying one word to me. They’ve been getting letters and pictures of a child they never wanted a thing to do with from day one. They treated me so poorly, and what’s worse is they made MONEY off of me!
Nauseated and weak I say, “They got paid twenty-five thousand dollars for my son. How the hell could they?” Dropping the last page I can’t help feeling numb.
“I’ve got no clue, but I will find out answers. They will explain themselves.” Rubbing my shoulders, Micah lets out an uneasy sigh. “While digging in your past Tyler found the name Carla Mitchell. He never found a trace that led back to Catholic Charities anywhere. I just wanted to make