The Wayward Gifted - Broken Point (10 page)

FIVE

Adoptive
families will sometimes celebrate a
gotcha
day
, marking the adoption anniversary of their child.
Some families celebrate with parties.
These can be similar to birthdays, including invitations, decorations, family,
friends, food, entertainment, and gifts. For Steuart and Sam things were
different. Their mother preferred the label,
special day
and insisted it be treated as a private, solemn
occasion.

There were rules. Olivia was strict
about celebrating on the exact day of each child’s anniversary. It was
understood that there would be a celebration even if something happened to
create scheduling confusion. There was usually a cake. There was also a gift.
The occasion was always restricted to immediate family. Olivia, Sam and Steuart
ate dinner alone, however, their mother always set one extra place setting for
an unknown, invisible guest. Typically, the day was more odd than special, but
this was what the children knew. They knew that they did not know exactly what
to expect, and that was okay.

The special day was always unexpected. One
year Steuart had banana pudding because Olivia had a deadline at work. Another
year Olivia forgot Sam’s day until late in the afternoon. She spread a
tablecloth on the beach and pretended to take the children on a camping trip,
complete with pineapple sandwiches and a can of fruit cocktail. Once there was
a pistachio ice cream cake. Another year there was a rainbow cake with red,
yellow and purple sprinkles. There was the time they had a robot shaped cake. “I
thought it was too cute to pass up,” Olivia said, “and the markdown was great.”
None of these things mattered to either of the children. They always smiled and
enjoyed the time together.

Sam and Steuart learned early that
although the choice was theirs, Olivia had the final word on everything. The
children knew to behave. Privately, they joked that the
special
reference created an atmosphere more similar to education
than occasion.

Sam looked forward to this particular
special day because it was hers. She asked for a watercolor set, one with a pan
of paints, a couple of brushes and a pad of watercolor paper. Although this was
her third time to ask for art supplies, the possibility looked promising.
Peeping into her mother’s bedroom she saw a box that looked like it could hold
her request. It was perfectly wrapped and waiting quietly with Sam’s name
written across a soft pink and white dotted gift tag. Sam was delighted and pleased,
as her powers of magical thinking felt triumphant. Her dinner choice was
vegetarian pizza with pineapple added. Steuart requested extra feta and
pepperoni on his portion. Soft drinks were a special day treat. Sam lit the
candles as the celebration began. Olivia smiled, “We’re fortunate the pizza guy
made it out tonight. The weatherman says an early winter blizzard is on the way.
Are we ready to begin?”

The children nodded.

Each special day was more than a day of
celebration. This was the day each year when Olivia set time aside to remind
Sam and Steuart that they legally belonged to her. “Make no mistake, pay
attention to what I am telling you. Legally, you are my children. You both
belong to me.” She then confused the issue by explaining that they were not her
children. “As much as I wish I had given birth to you, I can only tell you that
I did not.” At ten and twelve, Sam and Steuart understood the basics, but did
not fully understand the concept of adoption. One thing was clear; their family
was similar to others in that overlooking daily dysfunction was a choice. This
is what they knew.

Olivia shared the same story during
every special day dinner, beginning with a lecture about blessings. The
children knew to pay attention, and understood their mother’s need to vent. Sam
and Steuart were accustomed to hearing how their mother went through many years
of interviews and group meetings in preparation for their adoptions. They were
also accustomed to hearing how they needed to be thankful for the opportunities
she had given them.

First, Olivia talked about her least
favorite home inspecting, interviewing social worker. “To say that I did not
care for that woman would be an understatement, but I did what I had to do. And
you should think about this because, as
Right,
Good, and Appropriate
tells us,
we
are each called upon, from time to time, to do things that we find distasteful.
That’s daily life, and a lesson best learned sooner than later. We are
always stronger than our obstacles. Remember that.”

The children nodded.

From there Olivia moved into a mini
lecture outlining her personal sacrifices and including how her career suffered
throughout the lengthy adoption process. “In those days a woman had to stop
working for an entire year because the agency was looking for the complete
devotion of a full-time mother. There would be no special day to celebrate had
I continued working and taken an available promotion. I’m proud of my
sacrifices.” Olivia wore them like a thick, heavy overcoat.

She talked at length about the anguish
of not being able to have her own biological children and about the
embarrassment of having to adopt. “This is not because adoption is a bad
thing,” she’d explain. “I obviously believe it’s quite wonderful. However, we
all know that people can be both cruel and well meaning at the same time. It
becomes exhausting trying to explain to everyone that you are unable to have
your own babies. I would have preferred not to tell anyone.” She shook her head
and ate a bite of pizza, “It’s no one’s business but ours. Unfortunately, you
need to know the truth about these things. And, I believe it would be wrong to
deceive either of you. So, in my quest to do the right thing, I have responded
to, and accepted the prying questions, patronizing opinions, and ridicule of
others.”

Sam and Steuart listened to stories
about the guilt they should feel. “It is not that you are ungrateful. It is
quite simply that you do not understand the plight of a single parent. How
could you?” She took a sip of iced tea and munched on her pizza. “I do not
expect that you will understand. Neither of you is at fault for these things
that have happened in our lives. Then again, without these things the three of
us wouldn’t be a family.”

Olivia talked for a long while
explaining “the worst humiliation of all…” she looked off in the distance, “when
Grady DuBoise, my mistake of a husband, your adoptive father, ran around and
left me. I do not know what more I could have done to keep our marriage intact.
Truth be known, we’re better off without him.” She went on to suggest that
Grady might not have strayed had Sam and Steuart been his biological children.
She took another bite of pizza, frowned and said, “I’ve done well for myself
and I’ve flourished without that…” She sipped her tea. “I’ve taken care of
things. It’s irrelevant now. What is important is for you to know that even
though Grady ran from his responsibilities as a parent, a responsibility that
he requested and later denied, I have not. I
remain ever vigilant and committed to both of your needs as well as my
parental duties and obligations.”

Sam and Steuart listened to stories
about their
unfortunate biological
situations
. Olivia explained how she saved them from
a probable trailer-park lifestyle
and then shared the story about
Steuart’s biological mother, whom she described as “…some sort of odd bookworm
who wore glasses all the time; a young woman obviously ignorant about the world
even though she and her parents had advanced degrees.”

Regarding Sam’s background, Olivia had
little information. “She was older,” but Olivia was unaware of the woman’s age.
She suggested, “she might have been in trouble with the law but that is merely
a hunch.” In both situations, there was no mention of a birth father.

Steuart never understood how Olivia
made the connection between education and trailer parks. He searched the
thesaurus but never found the word
trailer
with
trash
as a synonym. Although he
wanted to dispute his mother’s words, Steuart understood, as did his sister, that
it was unwise to challenge Olivia on this subject. It was best to sit quietly, listen
attentively, and participate only when called upon.

Steuart and Sam knew how and when to
comfort their mother. They did this frequently, on cue, just as they were
taught. They said exactly the things she expected to hear, “Oh, Mother, how
lucky we are to have been adopted by you.” It was at this moment, convinced
that her children were completely aware of their inadequacy as offspring, yet
appreciative of her superiority and benevolence that Olivia, now in tears, rose
from her chair and left the room in search of her handkerchief. Relieved,
Steuart and Sam enjoyed the knowledge that their mother would be away for a
while repairing her make-up.

Steuart continued to enjoy pizza while
Sam prepared mentally for her new watercolors. Overcome with excitement, she
looked at her brother, smiled and softly giggled, “I saw the box,” she
whispered. Her eyes twinkled in the candlelight.

“Did you get it?”

“Yes! I didn’t hold it, but I saw it.
It’s the right size. I’m almost sure-as-Matt.”

“Yay!” Steuart softly, but enthusiastically
cheered.

Because they understood the importance
of good behavior Sam and Steuart sat straight in their chairs as they patiently
waited for their mother to return. Sam tried calming herself by taking deep
breaths. She stiffened a bit and closed her eyes. She had a brief daydream
about what she planned to do with the paints and then wondered how to mix the colors,
keeping them from becoming ugly and brown. Sam hadn’t painted in a long while.
Before the move, she enjoyed using her grandmother’s watercolors. Sam looked
forward to calling Ida and discussing art.”

The children continued to wait.

Sam thought about painting. She
considered what she should wear as she wanted to avoid ruining her good
clothes. She thought about the best places to paint. She didn’t want to make a
mess. She couldn’t wait. What would she paint first? Suddenly, she had the perfect
idea—a thank you painting for her mother. She would paint a picture of
the new house, complete with the big tree in the front yard and the river in the
back. “Mother will love it,” she whispered softly to herself. She imagined her
mother having the gift custom framed before hanging it above the sideboard in
the dining room.

Olivia’s bedroom door opened and then
closed. She spoke with a laugh in her voice, “Here I come.” She walked down the
hall carrying Sam’s gift, stopping first in the kitchen for another box.

One box, wrapped in multi-colored polka
dot paper, the one Sam saw in her Mother’s bedroom, looked beautiful tied with
delicate French ribbon. Olivia placed it to the side. She laid the second,
plain white, cardboard box on the table and opened one end. Holding the edges,
she pulled out a single layer cake. Frosted in white, the cake delivered a
message piped in pink that simply read:
Best
Wishes.

“Pretty, pretty, oh, so pretty,” Sam
gushed. Steuart finished his pizza and moved his plate aside.

It was time for cake and more of the
talk
.
Olivia began, “Samantha Leigh,
we all know you need to watch your calories, so I elected to forgo the ice
cream this year. We need to keep temptation out of sight.”

“Yes ma’am,” Sam nodded. “That’s okay.”

“Of course it is.” Olivia reached for
the knife and began cutting slices. She looked at Sam and smiled. “This cake is
made with artificial sweetener. Let me cut your slice first.” She passed a
small slice to Sam before cutting a larger slice for Steuart and an even larger
slice for herself. Sam didn’t care. She would have been happy with anything.

The little cake looked tasty. It was
yellow flavor. Sam took a bite. Her eyes were fixed on the box with the ribbon.
Olivia gently tapped on the rim of her dessert plate, “Remember Sam, we must
wait until everyone finishes before opening our gift.”

“
Hobo
rank duels
,” Steuart whispered.

“What was that?” Olivia asked her son.

“This day is cool,” Steuart said loudly
with a sly smile. “I’m proud to celebrate with my lovely mother and wonderful
sister on her special day.”

“Steuart James, what a nice thing for
you to say.”

Sam ate a big bite of cake, chased it
with a sip of soft drink, and swallowed quickly, “This is tasty Mother.”

Olivia ate her slice slowly. This was
partially because of its size, but also because she liked to talk more than
eat. It was time to talk about the files
.
“The files can be opened. You understand what I am telling you?” Olivia
repeated herself as she looked at each child.

Bored, they each nodded, but didn’t say
a word.

“That means the agency will allow you
permission to open your files.” She took a bite of cake, a sip of iced tea, and
continued, “No one other than you has this right.
You
do not even have the right before you turn eighteen and there
are many good reasons for that.”

“What’s that Mother?” Steuart asked.

Sam gave her brother a hard look and
kicked him under the table.