Leave Me
He shrugged, like he wasn’t sure when he’d be back. “Think about New Year’s. I’m happy to book you a plane ticket, too. Though that would require you telling me your real name.”
“Maribeth,” she said. “It’s Maribeth.” She pulled on his scarf. “Thank you for taking such good care of me, Stephen.”
“And you of me, Maribeth.”
He closed the trunk. They stared at each other for a moment, and Maribeth knew she could leave it unsaid, Stephen might understand. But this time she wasn’t going to do that.
“Find someone to take that third ticket, Stephen. If not now, then soon. It’s time. You deserve some happiness. I think Felicity would want that for you.”
He blinked a few times, and then he smiled. “That’s what Mallory says.” He patted his pockets for his wallet and phone before handing her the keys. “You can leave these with Louise when you’re done.”
She watched as he made his way toward the terminal. He gave one last wave before he went inside.
68
Janice called that night. “You won’t believe what I found.” Her voice shaking over the phone.
“What?”
“I shouldn’t show it to you but I can’t help it. Can I come over?”
“I have a car. I can come to you.”
SHE’D EXPECTED A smoking gun. Another heart attack, or a testimonial as to why her mother gave her up. But it was just more paperwork. Maribeth didn’t see why Janice was so excited.
“Look,” Janice said, pointing. “There.”
It was a journal entry. In a florid script.
I know I’m having a girl. Everyone says I’m carrying small, and it’s a boy, and I come from a family of brothers, but I can tell. I hear my own mother’s voice. And she says it’s a girl.
I haven’t told anyone this because the other girls here are so terribly sentimental about their babies. They all think they will grow up to be president! And they talk about them as if they will know them. “My child will . . .”
She won’t be mine. But part of her will. I’ve decided to name her after myself and after my mother. Even though she’s going to a new family and won’t ever know her name, it will still be her first name. In that way she’ll belong to me. First and forever. She’ll be Mary Beth.
“I’m confused. Mary Beth? Is that her? Is that my mother?”
“No, Beth is your mother,” Janice replied. “Mary Beth was what she named you.”
From: [email protected]
Subject: My birth mother
Was named Beth. Her mother was Mary.
She named me Mary Beth.
I am Maribeth.
From: [email protected]
Subject: My birth mother
The mystery of your culturally confused name is solved. Did you find out anything else about her?
And how are you?
From: [email protected]
Subject: My birth mother
Mostly confused. My real mother, not Beth but Evelyn, kept the name my birth mother gave me, which was her own name and her mother’s name. My entire life, she was so threatened by my birth mother. Like she never believed that I was truly hers.
So why would she do that? Keep the name my birth mother gave me, which was her name, too. Wouldn’t this just be a constant reminder that I wasn’t really hers?
From: [email protected]
Subject: My birth mother
Or a reminder that you were also someone else’s.
From: [email protected]
Subject: My birth mother
I can’t believe she did that. And kept it a secret all these years.
From: [email protected]
Subject: My birth mother
Are you going to try to meet her? Beth?
From: [email protected]
Subject: My birth mother
I don’t know. Right now, I want to just rest here. For the first time, I am starting to wonder if maybe she loved me, Jase. Maybe she loved me a little bit.
From: [email protected]
Subject: My birth mother
Is that so hard to believe?
69
It was time for another farewell. Sunita was leaving Christmas Eve to spend the winter break in India. The night before, she was having some people over for dinner and invited Maribeth. “This time, I’ll do the cooking.”
“‘Cooking’ is an optimistic term,” Todd said. “More like practicing.” He turned to Maribeth. “She wants to prove to her mother she can do it so they can advertise her as a good Indian girl when it comes time to marry her off. Fritz will be so heartbroken.”
“Shut up!” she said, shoving Todd. To Maribeth: “My parents didn’t even have an arranged marriage. They’re not marrying anyone off.”
“Fritz will be so relieved,” Todd said.
“Why are you being such a jerk?” Sunita asked.