Family Pieces (32 page)

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Authors: Misa Rush

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BOOK: Family Pieces
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“What did you say?”

“No. I said no.”

 

Karsen didn’t recognize the number on her phone, but answered quickly.

“Hello. May I speak to Ms. Karsen Woods, please?”

“This is Karsen.”

“This is Nicholas Ross from the Indiana Adoption History Registry.”

“Yes?” Karsen’s heart skipped a hopeful beat. It had been a painfully long week since she’d written to the registry and she was beginning to wonder if she’d ever hear anything.

“We received your letter and we were able to trace your sister. Unfortunately, she declined to give us permission for you to contact her. I’m sorry.”

Karsen’s heart sank. The notion that her sister wouldn’t want to meet her had crossed her mind, but she’d dismissed it. Maybe she wouldn’t want to be best friends or call her a sister, but how could she not be curious at all?

“Are you sure? Maybe if you asked her again. Did you tell her it was her sister trying to contact her?”

“I’m sorry, Miss. At this time, there is nothing further I can do. She has my information if she changes her mind.”

“And in your experience, do people change their minds?”

“Sometimes yes, sometimes no. If she reaches out, we’ll notify you.”

“I understand. Thank you for your time.”

Time. A component Karsen was running out of.

 

Karsen cocooned herself away for the next two days. The shades in her room were left unopened, creating a somber dark hiding place for her to seclude herself. She rarely arose from her bed except to drown her depression in a tub of rocky road ice cream, the last of which she had finished this morning. There were several unanswered voice mails waiting on her phone, including a reminder for her appointment at the clinic at nine o’clock Friday morning.

It wasn’t fair. Her friends invited her out, but she didn’t want to be the source of their gossip, nor did she want their sympathy. What she wanted was to turn back the clock. To bring her mom back. She wanted to ask her mom why. She wanted to scream at her for deceiving her. She wanted her to tell her what to do.

She had dozed off again when the front door opened.

“Karsen?” Brad’s voice boomed throughout her small apartment.

“Go away!” she yelled out, wishing she’d never given him a key.

He entered her bedroom, followed by Hanna. “You didn’t return my calls.”

“I just want to be left alone.”

Hanna opened the shades, brightening the room instantly. Karsen groaned and pulled her pillow over her head.

“We’re worried about you.” Brad sat on the edge of the bed, placing his hand on hers.

“I’m fine.”

Brad looked at Hanna. She shook her head.

“You’re not fine. Look at you. Look at this place,” he said. Two days and her apartment looked like a fraternity house after a rush party. Empty ice cream cartons littered the floor with the spilled remnants dried in sticky blobs beside them. Furniture was barely visible under piles of unwashed laundry.

“Karsen, consider this an intervention. Come on, get up,” Brad said sternly.

“NO.”

He pulled the pillow off her head.

“Stop it!” she yelled, trying to hold onto it harder.

He tugged harder and the pillow flew across the room, almost hitting Hanna and knocking over a half-empty glass of milk. Hanna flinched.

“F- you!” Karsen shouted at her brother.

Agitated, Brad pulled her up by her arms. “C’mon, Karsen. I’m not kidding. Get up!”

“Wow, K, you look like shit,” Hanna said, noticing – in addition to her lack of housekeeping – Karsen obviously hadn’t showered in two days either.

“Thanks,” Karsen said sarcastically and glared at Hanna.

“Hey, what are friends for?” Hanna grabbed her keys from the counter and tossed them to Brad. “Why don’t you run out and get some decent food. She needs to eat and there’s nothing here.”

“Sure. Be back in a few.”

“Come on, K. Let’s get you into the shower.”

Reluctantly, Karsen dragged herself into the bathroom. Hanna started the water.

“It’s going to be okay,” Hanna said softly, and gave Karsen a hug. She closed the door so Karsen could clean up in private.

Karsen stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. The mirror had steamed over from the heat. She toweled off a circle and peered into the mirror, analyzing her appearance. Ten weeks of pregnancy and several gallons of Ben & Jerry’s were beginning to show in her face. She opened her towel and examined her body. Her typically flat abdomen appeared rounded. Not enough to be noticeable in clothing, but definitely filling in. It wouldn’t matter now. She had made her decision and after Friday the weight gain would subside. The feeling of emptiness seemed ironic with her growing physical appearance. She rewrapped the towel around her and secured one around her hair.

Hanna sat on the edge of the bed thumbing through the new issue of
Urbane
. She looked up and set the magazine aside as Karsen came back into the room. Karsen noticed that Hanna had tidied up while she showered.

“Thanks, Han,” she said.

“No problem.”

“I mean it. Thanks.”

Karsen slumped beside her, hands folded in her lap. “Will you still go with me?”

“Of course.”

“Without Brad, right?”

“That’s up to you. Whatever you want. He’ll understand.”

“I know.”

“Did you tell your dad?”

“No. I figure he’ll realize when… well, when no baby arrives. I can’t face the disappointment.”

Hanna hugged her tightly. She could see the worry on her face and wished she could take it away. They sat in silence, lost in thought, trying to digest what Karsen’s appointment meant.

 

The next morning, Karsen sat in the clinic waiting room and filled out the routine medical paperwork. She signed her name on the last form and turned everything in to the receptionist. That was it. In one hour her mistake would be erased. Her emotions were another story.

She sat back down next to Hanna. Neither knew what to say. Karsen’s nerves boiled within her. The medicinal smell irritated her already queasy stomach. She stared blankly over Hanna’s shoulder as she flipped through the issue of
Urbane
she had brought from Karsen’s apartment.

“Karsen Woods?” the nurse called from the doorway. Hanna looked up toward the nurse then at Karsen, expecting her to get out of her seat. Instead, Karsen’s eyes burst open.

“Wah…wait!” she exclaimed. “Go back!”

Startled, Hanna looked at her concerned. “What?”

“Karsen Woods,” the nurse repeated.

“No, go back!” Karsen reached across Hanna’s arm to flip back the page. She could hardly believe her eyes.

“Karsen, she’s calling you…,” Hanna started.

Karsen impatiently pointed at the page. “Look!”

Hanna looked down again and her jaw dropped when she saw what Karsen was pointing at. There on the editorial page was a photo of
Urbane
’s CEO Addison Reynolds. Visible in the open neckline of her blouse was a silver puzzle piece charm.

23

 

A
ddison held the phone away from her ear. She knew her mother would be upset once she learned about Russell and she was right. Garbled in the background she could hear her rattle on about how she was going to ruin her life and how she needed to beg him to come back. She brought the phone in only to utter a few “Uh huhs” and “Yes, Mom. I understand,” anything to appease her until she felt they could move on. Addison almost felt as if the lack of a date for her mother’s charity event was the greater issue. The appearance of her only daughter still single at thirty-nine must cause undue whispering in her mother’s social circle.

“Yes, Mom, I said I know. Now, I really need to get back to work.” Addison pushed. “I’ll see you soon.” She felt a pang of relief as she hung up the phone. At least the conversation about Russell was over and she hoped that would be the last.

As frustrated as she felt, still, she loved her for the mother she was. Perhaps her parents didn’t fit the picture-perfect model of family, but they did the best they knew how. They’d taken her in and provided her with a lifetime of financial security. She respected them for that. Her loyalty remained to them and a birth mother had no right to find her. Not now. Not almost forty years later.

Jacob entered the office and sat a warm, frothy latte along with a hard copy of the next issue’s proof on her desk.

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