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Coral Reef Island

Torn Between Two Mothers - Prologue
 

November 1994: Burbank Airport, California

​

Vicky: My pale, naked body blurred in the bathroom mirror. Reaching out, I swiped an arc, beneath thick Brooke Shields eyebrows, her eyes stared back.

Our eyes. 

Warm steam filled the edges and I looked away. Tucking the towel tight over my boobs, I finger combed mousse into my scalp, then bent to blow-dry, scrunching brown waves to frame my face. Eyes closed, I saw her white hair, the black outline of a perfect nose and cupid’s bow. The face I always wanted. Her fax portrait in light and dark - was tight in my hand while we spoke on the phone last week, making plans. Barbara's voice tapped a rhythm against my heart, “See you Saturday, Vicky.” 

Standing in the bedroom, my outfit lay over the chair, ready for the day, like when I was little. I tipped my mug, circled a finger inside the rim to collect the foam, sucking as I walked to the kichen to refill my coffee. The bracing taste cleared last night's red wine from my brain. 

Last night. 

We finished an entire bottle, there'd been so much to tell. Faith dropped everything to come over when I called - what a shock. It was a lot to ask, after these last few years. But she was the one who felt right - my high school best friend knew me, Mom and Dad pretty well. 

"Faith! I think I'm having a nervous breakdown" I said, as she walked into my apartment carrying wine and a box of pizza. Faith's brown hair framed her face, and made her look a little bit like that new actress on Friends...what was the cut called? Oh yeah...The Rachel.

We sat next to each other on the couch, our paper plates sagging from the oil. Leaning over to hand me Kleenex, later pizza, she listened without interrupting as my story unfolded in gulps and laughter. We'd never really spoken about my adoption before, but Faith seemed to understand. 

Talking still felt easy with Faith, even though she no longer hid behind her long hair, and actually wore some light makeup. I guess we'd both gotten older. It was all so weird. I finished with, "And for some reason, my chest is killing me, It hurts to breathe."

She wiped crust and cheese crumbs off her thigh, shaking them onto a napkin, before turning to face me.

"Be sure you're calm when you tell them about her." She advised, blue eyes serious. "Think about how they feel." She paused, tucking hair behind her left ear. "Don't let them know how excited you are."

Hmmm. Feelings. A little cheese gurgled up. Swallowing, I exhaled and reached towards the coffee table. Faith was right. Mom and Dad could never know the truth. Pouring more wine in each of our oversized glasses from Target, I changed the subject, "So, how do you like that new show, Friends?"

"Joey is such a hottie!" Faith responded, laughing. 

Brrrrring! My alarm rang, the sound dragged me back to this moment. 

Faith'll be here in 30. 

Morning light whispered under the ocean blue bedroom curtains, as I dressed.

To meet...her.

Barbara. She had a name, a face, and a voice. She was real!

NO! I slapped my cup on the tile coaster. They're my real parents. Tracing the top of my special oak dresser, I remembered Dad, his brown eyes proud, crinkling at the corners, "Look at the dovetails, you'll have this forever. I put stoppers in all the drawers, too." For my 12th birthday, Dad built me furniture and Mom helped me hang tiny white and blue flower wallpaper in my grown-up room. 

My stomach did a little flip, butterflies trying to escape.

I lay on the bed. I did the right thing.

Sucking in my breath, I reflected on our call I was kind. 

In one motion, I pulled high waisted acid wash jeans up and over my tummy, I hated that new baggy style. I thanked her for giving me up, told her I'd had a good life. 

Pulling on a dark sweater, I walked to the bathroom for final makeup - casual, like I’m not trying.     

What if she doesn’t come? Hands shaking, I covered uneven and missing parts of my cleft lip with pencil, then applied color ½ shade darker. Smiling to check symmetry, I drew my index finger slowly out of my mouth, Mom’s trick to keep lipstick off front teeth. 

Dad always said, "She couldn't afford your surgeries." But in my heart, I knew the truth. She couldn't bear my deformities, so she left.

And I became property of the state of Arizona.

Little Orphan Annie? No way. Screw her. Annie was a treackly little scamp, singing hope, smiling through child abuse. No bitterness in her, just everyone's little sweetheart.

Nope. Not my style. Natalie Wood in Gypsy. Now that was more like it. Yes, I understood her life. Let me entertain you. Thrown away by her mother, she reinvented herself, just like I did. Fabulous Little Vicky waving from the orphan crib. Like what you see? Take me home.

Driving to the airport to meet the woman who threw me away, trees blurred a green frame around my reflection in the passenger window. Now Barbara crashes into my life, thirty years too late.

©2024 by Barbara Bazett & Victoria Graham. Website Design by Christina Aumann

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