Mia didn’t answer immediately.
Then she said, “Okay.”
Not forgiveness, not rejection, just enough.
She nodded once.
***
The confirmation came two days later.
Mia was biologically ours.
Margot was alive.
Greg sat down.
Thomas put an arm around Joan.
Mia started crying.
The confirmation came two days later.
Then she reached backward and grabbed Joan’s hand.
Pain went through me so quickly I hated myself for feeling it.
Joan had been there for scraped knees, school mornings, nightmares, birthdays.
Then Mia looked at me.
Slowly, she held out her other hand.
I took it.
Then Mia looked at me.
I didn’t pull her closer.
I just held on.
Finding Margot didn’t erase Mia.
And being her biological mother didn’t erase Joan.
My family struggled with that more than I did.
Finding Margot didn’t erase Mia.
***
A week later, we had a small gathering at our house.
One relative pulled me aside near the porch.
“When does she come home?”
“She lives next door.”
“You know what I mean. When do you get her back?”
I looked over.
“When does she come home?”
Mia was close enough to hear.
So was Joan.
“Don’t talk about her like she’s something that was borrowed.”
The relative lowered her voice.
“Nicole, they’re not her real parents.”
“They raised my daughter.”
Mia was close enough to hear.
“But she’s yours.”
“She is.”
I glanced toward Joan and Thomas.
“And she’s theirs.”
The room behind us had gone quiet.
“You don’t get to erase ten years of their love because I lost those years.”
“And she’s theirs.”
***
Later, Mia found me alone on the porch.
Don’t miss
“Did you mean it?”
“Every word.”
“You really think they’re still my parents?”
“They are your parents, honey.”
She sat beside me.
“Did you mean it?”
Then she asked the question I’d spent days avoiding.
“Do you want me to live with you?”
Every selfish part of me screamed yes.
“I want every day I lost,” I said.
Mia looked down.
I forced myself to keep going.
“Do you want me to live with you?”
“But those days aren’t yours to give back.”
She turned toward me.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you already have a life: parents, friends, a name. I don’t want finding me to become another way you lose everything.”
Her eyes filled.
“But those days aren’t yours to give back.”
“So I don’t have to choose?”
“No.”
“Even if I call Joan Mom?”
“Especially then.”
Mia rubbed her thumb against her finger.
This time, I didn’t tell her to stop.
“So I don’t have to choose?”
