I accepted that I’ll never have biological children. Till a few days ago, when my wife and her sister fought in our home and her sister shrieked, “Oh, by the way, does your husband even know that you’ve—”
It was a room-freezing moment. I looked between the two ladies as I held a coffee mug in midair. A ghost white Clara, my wife. Her sister Maureen seemed to regret her words instantly.
Clara glared at her, but it was too late. My heart pounded. Something was odd. It wasn’t a sisterly “you took my blouse again” fight. It had teeth.
“What’s she talking about?” I asked, dropping the drink and approaching.
Clara remained mute. Maureen said again, but Clara interrupted. “Nothing. Being theatrical, she is. Her nature is known.”
I said nothing. I kept staring at Clara. She looked away.
After Maureen stormed out, I sat next to Clara on the sofa, switched off the TV, and said, “What don’t I know?”
A few seconds of silence followed by a deep inhale. “Not what you think.”
Nothing good comes from that sentence.
Then she stared at me. “Remember when we thought we’d never have kids? You know after all the testing, doctors, and being told…
I nodded. Every moment was recalled. Months of sobbing, waiting rooms, holding hands, and feigning strength.
“Well,” she said, “about a year later, I had…” An opportunity arose. And I decided.”
My stomach dropped.
She said, “I inseminated. A private clinic. I didn’t tell you because… It terrified me. I didn’t mean to harm. I doubted it would work.”
I blinked.
What, you didn’t tell me? You attempted to conceive without my knowledge?
Shaking her head. I didn’t intend to betray you. I wanted a kid and believed you’d be thrilled if it succeeded. No need to know if it didn’t.”
Did it work?
She quieted again.
She nodded.
Feeling dizzy. Took a tour around the room.
Clara, we have no kids. No child.”
She paused. There is. His age is five. The name is Evan.”
I glanced at her, dumbfounded. “Where’s he?”
Bit her lip. “Someone else raises him. I doubted I could. I worried after his birth. I feared becoming a lousy mother. I considered it a mistake.”
Unable to speak.
“I arranged a closed adoption,” she whispered. “I thought… I felt unworthy of raising him if I wasn’t honest from the start.”
The room swirled. “So, you had our child and gave him away? I was told nothing for five years?”
Clara wept. “I know. I should have informed you. I was cowardly.”
She and I didn’t communicate for days. I needed room. I couldn’t comprehend it. Something within me felt furious. Another part of me broke. But behind it all, I wanted to know Evan.
I researched. Clara had the original documents. She showed me. A private agency in another state handled the adoption. I heard after a few calls that the family had consented to be contacted if the biological parent wanted to—something Clara had never done.
I asked her if I could try. She nodded quietly.
Three weeks later, I sat across from Mark and Dana in a small Omaha café. Evan fed ducks near the pond with their teenage daughter. They were nice yet cautious. I would have been.
“I don’t want to disrupt your family,” I replied. “I just want to know him. A little.”
Dana smiled, but her eyes showed fear. This youngster is lovely. Smart. His queries are constant. He understands he’s adopted. Since day one, we’ve been honest.”
Mark nodded. “We can’t promise anything more than slowly starting.”
I agreed. That exceeded my expectations.
Evan had no idea who I was when we met. They called me an old buddy. He was bashful yet inquisitive. He spoke softly and had broad brown eyes. When he asked whether I loved dinosaurs, I responded yes. Especially those with huge heads and short arms.”
He chuckled. “T-Rex!”
We created little moments from there. Every few weeks, I saw him. We would sketch, have ice cream, or go to the park. Despite not having a dog, he adored drawing them.
I ached whenever I saw him. He looked different from me. But his grin, head tilt, and gait seemed something familiar.
She didn’t join me on those visits. I guess she wanted but was embarrassed. I told her to come. He should know you.”
She consented after some deliberation.
Her meeting with Evan was uneasy. He was silent, and Clara shook. She gave him a little toy vehicle and remarked, “I used to collect these when I was little.”
Nodding, he grasped it carefully. He said, “Thank you.” Only that.
Over time, he warmed to her.
After six months, Mark and Dana invited us to Evan’s kindergarten graduation picnic. Clara cooked cookies. Came with camera. This was the first time I felt like we were a family.
Clara and I held hands in the vehicle that night. She murmured, “Do you think he’ll ever want to come home to us?”
I delayed responding. “I think he feels part of both worlds.”
Life is seldom straightforward.
Mark suffered a stroke three weeks later. Though not deadly, it prevented him from working. It overwhelmed Dana. She sought aid since her bills were mounting.
We received the call then.
Would you two consider interim guardianship? Dana asks. “Until we recover. He trusts you. He smiles while mentioning you.”
Clara stared at me. She cried.
Yes, we agreed. Signed papers. Evan stayed with us “for a little while.”
A little bit became months.
Mark’s health remained poor. Dana struggled but drowned. We met again after she requested.
In the park, under the same tree where I met Evan, she added, “He needs stability. He requires two completely present parents. My greatest affection is him. But sometimes love requires letting go.”
A long period passed in stillness.
Then she said, “If you want to adopt him—again—we’ll support it.”
Clara cried gently. So was Dana.
