Chapter One cont…
Elizabeth and I met as babies although I’m older by seven months. I don’t remember exactly when her situation made sense to me, but I always seemed to recognize that she was different. Once I understood a bit more, I would often wonder if all adopted kids were the same kind of different that she was. But then I’d think, she doesn’t know she’s adopted so that can’t be the cause of anything.
Walking home that afternoon, a part of me that didn’t feel bad about what had just happened, felt relieved. It had been hard keeping this secret. So many times I tried to tell her, but she couldn’t hear me. Maybe now we would be able to deepen our bond. There was so much about Elizabeth that I liked. There was so much of me I’d hidden from her. It would be good to start with a clean slate, if possible. I imagine she’d feel I’d lied to her, cheated her. And she was right to feel that way, because I had done that and more.
Elizabeth had a way of reading your thoughts. I’d seen her do it over and over again. I guess that’s part of the reason I was surprised she hadn’t unearthed the lie long ago. Once, we were snuggled together in her big bed and I started to cry. She was so kind to me in that moment asking what was wrong, and could she help? I told her I was afraid to go to sleep because I might not wake up, that I was afraid of dying.
It made no sense, but Elizabeth transformed for a minute or two. Almost angelic, the calm radiating from her eyes, stopped my tears in their tracks. Her words, self-assured, put me at ease and soon I was sleeping peacefully. We would speak about that night, or rather I would remind her about that night, many times over the years. The memory of how I felt lived on long after I’d forgotten what she told me.
We were little and wonderfully innocent then. When at her worst, I would remember the magic of that night and tell myself, and any others who would listen, that she was special. They didn’t hear me anymore than Elizabeth did.
By the time I got home, I’d guessed that Elizabeth was already holed up in her room with her horse figurines and books. She would not be speaking to anyone and she certainly would not want to see me. I also knew that no one in her home would bother her. She spent so much time on her own, another evening wouldn’t be unusual at all. What I didn’t know was how she would handle tomorrow.
To be cont…
Wishing for curiosity. Not the nosy, gossipy kind of curious, but the kind that sparks from interest. When you’re interested, you’re curious. When you act on your curiosity, you end up igniting your passion. So let’s make sure we remain passionate about staying curious.