Dear Carolina (17 page)

YOU CAN LIVE

I remember gettin' real tickled in school over Mark Twain saying that cauliflower is “cabbage with a college education.” I think that's right near like me and Khaki. And that's all right 'cause I like cabbage real good. Cauliflower too.

I used to think Khaki were so happy and upbeat all the time 'cause she didn't care one whit about what other people was feeling. But once we got to know each other good I realized that she feels everything. She just don't want nobody to know, so she keeps it all inside. So I just got my nerve up, and I ask her one day, “Khaki, how you do it, girl? After all you been through, how do you get up every day and act so happy?”

She shrugged. “You know, Jodi, when you've looked death in the face you realize your next breath isn't guaranteed. You can either sit at home and wallow in fear and self-pity or you can live.” I nodded. She said, “I've done both. The latter is a hell of a lot more interesting.”

And that's when I figured that we was the same. Rich, poor,
educated or not, we all got some tough mess to deal with in this life. And the only way we're gonna get through, that we can get to healing, is to know that it takes total surrender. To God, to life, to the universe. Stripping down and getting all raw and vulnerable, that's how I got off the sauce and Khaki got outta bed after her first husband died. And just like that pretty mornin' sun rising over the pond at the farm, it dawned on me that Khaki, she understood me better than I'd been knowing.

I knew right good in my heart that when I asked Khaki what I were about to ask her that she would seem all tough and together. But inside, right near that tender heart, she'd be weeping a whole river for me. And that's what a kid needs in a momma. You gotta be able to feel so deep and so hard and so sad for people but then still get on your smiley face and live your life.

When I was coming up, giving up my baby ain't something I thought about any more than I dreamed a' getting a Harvard scholarship. But you get to learning that we don't know what paths are being carved in the riverbeds of our lives any more than we know our expiration dates. (Though I can guess it on food pretty good.)

But what I did know, what my grandma been trying to teach me since I were little and sitting on her knee at church, was that people need Jesus. But I guess after I prayed that Momma would quit drinking and that didn't happen, I prayed that Daddy wouldn't die and that didn't happen, and I prayed that I would get a handle on my drinking and that didn't happen, I just lost my faith somewhere. But that Buddy, he reminded me that week in Atlantic Beach that just 'cause God don't always give us the answer we're looking for don't mean He ain't listening and He ain't answering. And, wouldn't you know, that week I prayed so hard it was like God flew down and give me the answers.

Here's what I got to telling God that week: “Lord, I ain't
twenty yet, and I'm so bad off Buddy's gotta hide the mouthwash. I ain't got no job, no money, no way out. But I got this baby. I get to feeling like I want to hold her and kiss on her and love on her, but it ain't been a month yet, and I'm already near off the deep end.”

I closed my eyes right tight and breathed real deep, and I tried to picture giving you up. But I dern near got sick all over the coffee table. But then Khaki, like she been talking to God too, she said, “Bringing Carolina back to you's gonna tear me apart.”

And then there was that precious baby naked in the mud puddle. And it didn't take that Harvard degree to figure on what's the right thing here.

I cried more tears that week than all the other tears I've cried in my life combined. I darn near coulda give all them people in the famine water. Knowing that I wouldn't get to see my baby smile her first smile or step her first step or speak her first word—it were like finding out Daddy had cancer again times about a million. It wasn't gonna be me rocking you to sleep at night or feeding you or kissing your scraped knees or soothing your broken heart. But I wasn't what you needed. And I knew it. And I feel right blessed by that.

I was all clogged up with my tears that morning as I got up, puttin' on my nicest, prettiest dress, all peach and flowing, the one that Daddy'd saved two months to be able to buy me for the homecomin' dance. I wanted to look real nice, make Graham and Khaki see that you would grow up to be sorta pretty. I walked out on the beach, 'cause, even though it was smack-dab in the middle of winter, it weren't that cold that day. Buddy, he was still sleeping, so I just walked along, all by myself, them freezing waves crashin' over my bare feet, that dress blowing around, my long hair flowing back in the chilly wind. The crisp, fresh mornin' air, it made me feel like I could breathe, like maybe
my lungs could keep working even after this horrible thing I was gonna do. And with the sun reflecting on the ocean, glittering and dancin' like diamonds, making the world seem safer and happier, not quite so scary, I thought,
Maybe I can raise her myself after all
.

But, in real life, trudging back up that sand toward the house, finally feeling them goose bumps that broke out all over my body, weren't no way on God's green earth. And that devil, he put it in my head that Khaki and Graham, they might not say yes, they might not want to keep you near as bad as I was thinkin'. But there weren't no other answer. Weren't no way I could give my baby to a stranger.

I let myself in, and Khaki and Graham, they was already sittin' right there in that wood den by the kitchen. They looked like Barbie and Ken, all perfect and shiny, and Khaki, she tried to give me them cookies you could smell baking in her momma's oven, not knowin' I was sicker than any flu I'd ever come down with.

I knew that I had to pile on out with it quick, 'fore I lost my nerve. 'Fore that little pitchfork-holding man on my shoulder got me all convinced I should keep you for myself.

But Khaki, she got to talking first. She was as cool, calm, and in control as I ever seen, but, like I said, you don't ever know what's going on inside your momma. Graham, now, he looked like he'd eaten too many of his momma's famous fried pickles. Khaki leaned in all close to me and said, “I want you to know before I say what I'm about to say that whatever decision you make is absolutely fine with us, and we will do everything in our power to help you no matter what.”

Oh, Lord. They're gonna send me to rehab again.

“You know that we love you and we love Carolina, and we only want what's best.” She paused, licking her lips. “I know that
you are going through a difficult time with your drinking and that must be scary.”

She didn't have to say no more. I could see myself all locked up in one a' them hospital rooms again, all white-walled and making you crazy.

“And I know that you are so young, and raising a baby all alone is terrifying and solitary and maddening sometimes no matter how old or experienced you are or how much help you have.”

Khaki was sweet and steady and talkin' real calm and good. And then that Graham, he just blurted on out, “We want to adopt Carolina.”

Khaki looked at him like he was gonna be real sorry. I got to crying so hard, I couldn't near see the room no more. It was relief and sadness and all them other things all rolled into one and pouring out my eyes. Khaki came and sat next to me right there in my little chair and put her arm around me tight.

“We're fine with any decision you make, but know that if you decided this was what you wanted you could see her as much as you wanted or not at all, depending on what you thought would be best.”

That made me stop crying right quick. I ain't never thought I'd get to see you no more. Part a' the reason I was so sad is 'cause I knew I weren't just saying good-bye to you, but to Graham and Khaki and Alex too. But maybe it weren't as bad as I thought. “Wait? I can still see her and all? Is that all right for her?”

Khaki shook her head and pulled me in close. “I always say the more people who love you the better.”

And then I sobbed and sobbed again 'cause weren't no living person in the world that loved me, and I wanted my baby to have nothing but love. I said, all snotty and red-faced like when I was drinking, “If we do this, it cain't be about what's best for me or best for you. It's got to be about what's best for Carolina.”

Khaki, she was crying right hard too now, but probably 'cause she were sad for me but so happy for her.

She said, “Of course. We'll figure it all out together.”

I leaned over, puttin' my head down on my knees 'cause I was feelin' faint. “How could I do it, Khaki? How could I give up my youngen?”

She shook her head. “I don't know, sweetheart,” she said, sittin' a little straighter. “The only way you could do it is if you truly believed in your heart that growing up with Graham and Alex and me would be best for Carolina. And if you don't think that, then it won't hurt our feelings.”

I stood up, stretchin' out a little, and Graham wrapped me in that big bear hug that there ain't nothing else like. And I knew you was gonna have that bear hug every single day for your whole growin'-up life. And it made me just a little happy.

I said, “I want to see her worse than anything. But I cain't get to holding her and smelling her sweet head and still let you adopt her.”

“Wait—” Graham said, him getting all teared up now too. “Are you telling us that we can?”

I nodded, but them tears was so lodged in my throat I couldn't say nothing. I pulled away from that big bear hug, not wanting no comfort. I got out the door quick, running way down the beach, almost to the ocean, plopped my bony butt in that cold, wet sand, that beautiful dress I'd pined for so long and hard gettin' ruined, and sobbed and sobbed. It weren't like nothing I'd ever seen, being able to cry that hard for that long. I don't know when, but Buddy, he come and wrapped me up in this big down comforter, and whispered, “No sense in you freezin' to death out here.”

But it didn't matter none. I couldn't feel nothing. Buddy, he stroked my back for pretty much the whole damn night. But I
were in pain so real and so deep and so scary I couldn't move or thank him or nothing like that.

I could live a million years, and I don't think I'd never feel like that again. And there won't ever be a day I don't live that pain. But I love you so much that I knew all I could do is give you the life I didn't have, the one I wasn't fit to give. Sittin' right out there in that sand, foam gatherin' at the edge of the shore, I couldn't reckon how I could love you so fierce and still give you away. I couldn't figure whether that made me the most selfish person in the world or just a little bit selfless. I don't know the theory of relativity or the speed of light or any a' that other math. But I knew right well, watching the moon rise that night, that no matter what them smart scholars say, love is the hardest equation.

SERIOUS TEARS

I've never been one of those designers who descends on a room with her tape measure and graph paper, charting out every perfect dimension. I go to the room, get a feel for it, and when I see the perfect pieces, I just know. I can feel that they are the right proportion and scale for the space without a yardstick.

When Alex was born, he was kind of like me with those pieces of furniture. He
knew
I was his mommy. From the moment he lay on my chest and breathed that first sigh of relief, we began the type of love affair that a woman doesn't know she'll ever have until it happens to her.

And I think that's how, even those first nights in New York, I knew that I was meant to be your mother. I might not have given birth to you, but I was the one who could calm you down, get you to sleep, make you relax. And I felt that same surge of love like a spiking fever whenever you came to me for solace.

It has never, not for one single second felt anything but right
between you and me. You are my baby. You are Graham's baby. You are Alex's sister. And that's that.

Loving you like I do has made me realize that giving birth has very little to do with motherhood. And that, even in the absence of a hormone surge, new motherhood turns me into an emotional mess. When Alex was born I cried so much that your aunt Charlie was afraid I was in the throes of a severe bout of postpartum depression. But then I was devastated over the loss of Alex's daddy, so sad that here I was, so magnificently in love on my own.

With you, I think the tears were a mixture of sorrow so deep it's a hole to China and gratitude so soaring that it's the peaks of the Andes. I had pined for another baby for years, and here you were. But I knew what it was to feel that pure connection with a child, and so I knew what Jodi must have been going through. And I wept every time she crossed my mind, which was often.

It was okay, because, angel that you were, you cried some serious tears yourself. Alex never cried, and so I kept taking you to the doctor and sobbing, “She's crying because she knows I'm not her real mother.”

Every time, he would pat me on the shoulder and say, “You are her real mother. She has colic.”

That would appease me for a day or two and then I'd be back.

I finally realized that no co-pay in the world was going to fix this, so I took you over to see Mother and Pauline, who had no idea what had transpired. When I walked through the door, Mother was in the library, and, peeking her head around, called, “Frances, honestly, are you going to babysit that child for the rest of your life?”

I smiled, nodded, and said, “I
am
going to, as a matter of fact.”

Mother scrunched her nose and shot me an annoyed “What?”

“Graham and I are adopting Carolina.”

Pauline came running in from the kitchen, as best as you could run at eighty-five, in support hose with a stocky build. “I been praying for years you get another baby. I tole you!”

Mother gave me a look like I had just told her I was taking a leave of absence from my life to become a groupie for an indie punk group. She rolled her eyes, sighed, and gestured for me to hand Carolina to her. She wrapped her up and said, “You better spend a lot of time with your grandmother so you'll grow up with some damn sense.”

You opened your little eyes, and we all laughed. Mother looked up at me. “Khaki, I swear. You can't just take someone's baby.”

I crossed my arms. “You see,” I said, “that's what's wrong with you and Graham. You're too narrow-minded. I knew this little girl was meant for me, and so did Jodi. Families aren't always born, Mother. They're made.”

Pauline nodded and said, “Uh-huh. Girl's smart, Miz Mason.”

I smiled at Pauline. It was abundantly clear who had raised me.

Mother smiled a little. “I guess that's true. After all this time, Pauline is sort of like my sister.”

Pauline looked at me skeptically.

“It's true, Pauline,” I said. “Mother would've bossed her sister even worse than she bosses you.”

I paused for a moment, wondering if I had overstepped my bounds. Mother and I rarely talked about her parents and sister dying, that childhood tragedy that had defined so much of her life and, looking back, must have been responsible for many of those moments that I felt she kept me at arm's length. But Mother laughed, and you looked up at her and cooed.

“All right.” Mother relented. “I'm happy if you're happy.” Then she said something that I hadn't even thought of, something that made me feel like the house was on fire and I couldn't get to you and Alex. “But you know she has a year to change her mind.”

I shook my head frantically. “No, Mother. She only has seven days.”

Mother cocked her head and put her fingers up to the pearls around her neck. “Honey, you and I both know what happened with the Taylors.”

I bit my lip and looked over at you, feeling the tightening like a noose around my neck. I had convinced myself that I was safe, that the seven days had passed and you were ours. But the harsh reality that a family I knew well had been forced to give their child back in a brutal court case was a pill I couldn't swallow. And all because of a tiny, tiny mistake on some paperwork.

Pauline could read my face. “Chile, you ain't got no business worrying yourself over something like that. You just go on being a momma.” Then she smiled. “See,” she said, winking. “I tole you all it'd take was a little bacon grease.”

I smiled, trying to push away the thought, remembering the devastation of that mistake being found eleven months into the Taylors' adoption.

“I'm just saying, is all,” Momma said. “The Taylors told me the statute of limitations on those things is usually considered a year.”

But I knew a lot of things would have to fall into place for that to happen. Jodi or Ricky would have to want you back, we'd have to get a judge that didn't owe Daddy for something or another . . . I swallowed my fear, walking over to adjust a stack of books on a gorgeous campaign chest I had bought for Mother's redesigned library. It was a competition between us. I'd turn them straight, and then, when I was gone, she'd turn them back at an angle.

“I've gained like five pounds, thanks to you,” I said to Pauline, feeling my breath return to normal.

“Khaki,” my mother said warningly. “Weight gain is a slippery slope.”

You made a little gurgling sound, and Mother cooed down
at you, “Not for you, darling. You're supposed to gain weight.” As if she had assuaged your fears, you closed your eyes again and drifted back off to sleep.

I sat down and sighed. “So, I'm trying to decide if I'm going to keep my surgery date two weeks from now or if I'm going to reschedule.”

Mother sat up straighter and peered at me. “Why on earth would you have the surgery now? You have a baby.”

“Yeah . . .” I said in a long, drawn-out way. “But it's probably not the best thing in the world to have a bunch of junk clogging up your insides. I feel like I need to get it out.”

“I come over and hep you take care of the chil'ren,” Pauline said.

“Maybe you should wait until they're a little older,” Mother said.

But I knew from experience that toddlers were much more taxing on a body than babies—especially babies that you didn't birth.

I took you back home, put you in your bassinet, and curled up on the couch to order more diapers, bottles, and another bouncy seat from Amazon. When I logged on, a message reminded me that it was time for my auto-ship tampons to be delivered.
That can't be right
, I thought. I had seen a brand-new box in my cabinet when I put my makeup away that morning.

About that time, Graham slammed the back door, and, as he was walking to my office, called, “I'm going to pick Alex up from school. There's a sale on fishing rods at the Neuse Sports Shop, and I want to take him to pick a couple out. And Momma's going to come watch the kids so we can go hear the Embers play at Pearson Park tonight.” He breezed through the doorway and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me, which was my first clue that my face was whiter than an Irish virgin.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

Kristin, Scott, and Bunny's prediction raced through my mind. “Oh my gosh,” I said, under my breath. I looked up at my husband. With that particular mix of joy and terror that only one subject-adjective combination can create, I said, “I'm pregnant.”