Taylor Hanson
I seem to remember I was sitting at a little table in our hotel
room, picking at the breakfast of food that I can't remember when my mother came into the room. She
signaled for me to follow her and, without a glance back at Isaac or Zac, I obeyed.
"Mother" had become such a loose term overnight. I had been awake half the night wondering about what made
a mother a mother. Was your mother necessarily the woman who gave birth to you? Even if you had never seen her, much less
even heard of her, was she still your mother? Did she still have the right to hold that name?
Or was your mother the woman who had taken care of you your whole life? The woman who had made time for you. Who had taught you. The woman
who had held your hand while they put the mask on you and told you to count backward from one hundred. The woman who had made time
to play a quick game of Shoots and Ladders with you while the new baby was sleeping. The woman who had comforted you when you were sick, feeling
like your gym teacher had just made you do three hundered sit ups in less than a minute and was telling you to do ten more.
Was she your mother?
The same went for fathers, except for the giving birth part. Was your father the man who had forgotten to use a condom that night, or was he the one who helped
you through that voice change part of puberty and taught you how to ride a bike? It was such a hard question to answer.
I entered the hotel room my parents were staying in to be faced with deep grimness. Everyone in the room was frowning
and thickly serious. My mother joined my father and the woman that I assumed was Parker's mother on the other side of a small table
set up in the room. They gestured for us to sit.
Parker and I acknowledged each other's presence for the first time as we sat. We both happened to glance at each other
at the same time. He gave me what I'm guessing was meant to be an encouraging smile. I couldn't bring myself to smile back at him.
"So....," said the woman, looking more than bewildered herself. "What do you guys want to know?"
"Nothing," I mumbled, staring at my hands. No one made comment, though they all probably heard me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Parker shrug.
"Okay....," she said slowly. "Who gets to do the honors?"
"I think you'd be able to tell the story better than Diana and I," I heard my father say.
"Okay," she said again. "I don't know where to begin, though."
"My....Our mother," Parker prompted her quietly.
I looked at him now. I realized suddenly that this had all been a part of his life
forever. It wasn't just some sudden surprise like it was for me. For him, this wasn't just
going to be the excavation of a past that he had never known existed before and didn't care
to hear about now, like it was for me. For him, this was his story. He was finally going to find
out where he came from. Somehow, this humbled me slightly.
Gina cleared her throat and made ready to begin.