That Was Then... (15 page)

If I was happy to go back to school last fall, I think I was even happier today. And that’s because Nat came back to school with me. Okay, it was a little awkward at first. She got the standard stares, whispers, glances, catty comments, snide smirks…But I was so impressed with how she handled it. We’d done some “rehearsing” of funny comebacks to prepare for those inevitable moments when someone stupid might say or do something totally moronic. And Nat pulled it off brilliantly. Humor can really take the edge off.

At lunchtime we sat with Cesar, Jake, and Allie, and just as we expected, Marissa and Spencer showed up and took their jabs at Nat.

“Something is different…” Marissa said to Nat with this evil twinkle in her eye. “Oh yeah, you’re not
pregnant anymore.” Then she frowned, eying Nat’s baggy shirt, which is helping to conceal her still-rather-bulky waistline. “Or are you?”

“Actually, I was pregnant with twins,” Nat told her with a straight face. “One was born during Christmas break, and I’m waiting to have the other one during spring break.”

Fortunately this made the guys laugh. And I think it actually made Marissa see Nat in a different light.

“So are you and Ben still married or not?” Spencer asked Nat.

“Turns out we never were,” Nat tossed back at him. “I think it was just a figment of everyone’s imagination.”

“So where’s Ben now?” he persisted.

“Ben’s going to graduate from McFadden,” Cesar informed him.

“Big chicken.” Spencer made a face.

“Actually…” Nat turned serious. “He’s been pretty brave if you think about it. I mean, how many of you would’ve been willing to go through what he went through?”

“Get married and have kids while you’re in high school?” Spencer rolled his eyes. “You can call it brave if you want. I call it plain stupid.”

“Yeah,” Nat agreed. “I can’t really argue with you on that.”

“Even so,” said Allie, “it’s good to know that God is bigger than our biggest mistakes. He can fix anything—if we let Him.”

And then, just like that, the subject changed, and when no one was looking I winked at Nat. She smiled back. And I’m thinking life is going to get back to normal soon. Well, whatever “normal” is. Maybe it doesn’t exist.

Not to suggest that Nat hasn’t been affected by all this. She definitely has. And sometimes I see this really sad expression in her eyes, and I know she’s hurting inside. Probably in ways I’ll never understand. And yet she seems to have changed in some really positive ways as well. She’s way more humble and compassionate. She even treats Marissa differently—and she used to hate that girl. And I don’t think she’s going to be preaching at any of us anytime soon. Not that she’s turned her back on God. If anything, I think it’s the opposite. It’s like she’s gotten deeper in a spiritual sense.

I think Nat’s relationship with God went to a level that she’d never before experienced. Not that I’d recommend going through what she went through to reach this place. But I have to agree with Allie—God really can bring good out of bad if you let Him. But He definitely won’t force it on you.

I got to jam with Redemption at the Paradiso tonight. It was so cool. We played some pretty mellow stuff—a real change from the rockier kinds of things they usually play at concerts. But I thought it sounded awesome. And, okay, I suppose I entertained this teeny, tiny fantasy that
maybe they’d invite me to join them on tour. Of course, I’d have to really think twice about that since I’m pretty committed to finishing high school here and they’ll be leaving to tour again in March. Allie will do her schoolwork on the road and then come back to walk with our class at graduation. So even if they did ask (which I’m sure they won’t), I’d probably have to decline. Oh, well.

Something very weird happened today. As usual, I picked up our mail when I got home, and there was one of those cards that tells you there’s something you need to pick up at the post office. Thinking it could be something important for Dad, I decided to stop by there on my way to work at the Paradiso. But it turned out to be a registered letter for me—in a large cardboard envelope that was sent from South Korea. I was running a little late, so I just stuck the envelope in my bag and drove as fast I dared, since it was icy out, over to the Paradiso so I could relieve Chloe from her shift.

“Sorry I’m late,” I tell her. “I stopped at the post office.”

“No problem.” She’s already grabbing her jacket. “It’s been really quiet in here today. But that’s probably because of the cruddy weather. I gotta get going. We’re supposed to be at the church to meet Willy for practice in like three minutes—and our manager can get a little testy
if were late. Cesar is supposed to be here by five.”

“Be careful,” I say. “It’s icy out there.”

“The forecast is saying snow by nightfall,” she calls as she goes out the front door, the little bell tinkling behind her.

I glance out at the murky gray sky and figure the weather forecast is probably going to be right this time. Then I look around the cozy café to see if any tables need to be wiped down or bins refilled or whatever. But everything seems to be in tip-top shape. Even the condiment jars look recently filled. And all the machines are shining. It must’ve been really slow in here today.

I decide to take advantage of this lull by retrieving my mysterious letter from my bag. Inside the heavy envelope is a single sheet of very lightweight paper. I think I’ve heard it called onion skin, but I didn’t know that people actually still used it. The words on this page are typewritten, but not like a computer. More like an old-fashioned typewriter, like the one my dad keeps in his office “for old time’s sake.” With hands that are shaking ever so slightly, I begin to read. I have a feeling I know what this is about.

Now my hands are really shaking. This letter is actually from my birth mother! The woman who brought me into this world. Her name is Lee Jin-Soon. I reread the letter again, more carefully now, taking in each fact and thoroughly processing it. She’s in her forties. She sounds like a normal, intelligent person, a career woman who lives in a large city. (I know from previous research
that Puson is the second largest city in South Korea; Seoul is the largest.) She seems to live comfortably and travels quite a bit. Not a bad life.

Okay, this is nothing like the pitiful woman I’ve often imagined—the young, impoverished, desperate prostitute who was forced to give up her baby to survive on the streets. As I finish the letter the second time through, I notice the note at the bottom says “enclosures: photograph, business card.” I grab the envelope and look inside, and sure enough, wedged into a comer is a small black-and-white photograph of a pretty Korean woman. I study her features, trying to decide if she looks like me or not. But other than the classic Asian features, I’m not so sure.

I look in the envelope again and notice a small white business card also wedged in the comer. The name of the company isn’t familiar, but beneath Lee Jin-Soon’s name is what I assume must be her title: Director of Foreign Services. I’m not sure what that means, but it does sound impressive.

And yet I am not impressed. If anything, I am irritated. I put the letter and other pieces back in the envelope, and just as I slip them into my bag, I’m relieved to see a couple who appear to be coming into the coffeehouse.

I distract myself with waiting on these kids, faces that are vaguely familiar; although, I’m pretty sure they attend McFadden. But I treat them like old friends as I take their orders, and we talk about how cold it is outside, and
they tell me about the wreck they saw on Forty-Ninth and Berger on their way over here.

“There were two ambulances,” the short blond girl tells me.

“I hope it’s not too serious,” I say as I hand her a cappuccino.

“Well, it was serious for the car,” the guy says. “It was totaled.”

Business in the coffeehouse picks up just a little. Not enough to be overwhelming, but I appreciate the distraction from my somewhat disturbing letter. I consider calling my dad, although he’d still be at work, or even Natalie. But I’m not really sure what I’d say. I just feel this need to tell someone about it.

Finally, just a little before five, the coffeehouse is completely empty and I’m thinking this could be a good night to close early, but then Cesar comes in and looks like he’s ready to go to work.

“It’s pretty dead in here,” I tell him as I start to take off my apron.

He nods. “I see that. But maybe it’ll pick up later this evening.”

“I don’t know,” I tell him. “The weather might be keeping people inside.”

“Well, if it’s too slow, I might call Chloe and see what she says.”

I pick up my bag, but as I swing it up, it turns upside down—emptying most of the contents all over the black and white checkerboard floor. I make a groaning sound
and stoop to pick my junk up, shoving it back into my bag.

Cesar bends down to help, finally handing me the large envelope. “That looks interesting.”

I stand up, still holding the envelope and frowning at it, as if it has personally offended me.

“Bad news?”

“Not exactly.” I start to shove it into my bag then stop. “Just something really weird.”

“Weird?” He kind of smiles. “That sounds intriguing.”

“You want to hear about it?”

“Pull up a stool,” he tells me. “I’ll pour you a drink.”

I laugh. “You sound like a bartender.”

“I am. Just happens to be a coffee bar. You want the regular?”

I nod. And as he’s fixing my mocha, I pull out the letter and the photograph. When Cesar sets my mocha in front of me, I hold up the photo. “Do you think this looks like me?”

He studies the photo, then looks at me. “Maybe…” He studies it again. “But you’re prettier.”

I kind of blink at that. “Really? You think so?”

He laughs. “Yeah. But who is that?”

“My birth mother.”

He slowly nods. “Ahh.”

“It’s the first time she’s ever contacted me, and I think I’m kind of in shock.”

“I can understand that.”

So then I pour out the story about how I’ve always
assumed the worst when it came to my birth mom. “Well, except for the times when I imagined that she was royalty and that I was actually a princess who’d been stolen at birth. But I eventually outgrew those fantasies and just settled on the most realistic explanation.”

“So, aren’t you pleased to discover that she’s a well-educated, intelligent woman who’s living a fulfilling life?”

I frown at the photo still in my hand. “You’d think that I’d be happy to find that out…”

“But you’re not?”

“It just raises a whole bunch of new questions.”

“Like?”

“Like why did she give me up?”

“Maybe you should ask her.”

“Maybe.”

“But you’re not sure.”

“The truth is, I’m not sure I want to have anything to do with her.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know…” I look out the window and notice that a few snowflakes are starting to fall. “Maybe it’s because of my mom—my real mom.”

He nods, as if he gets this. “Like it would be disloyal to your real mom to get to know your birth mother?”

“Maybe.” I take a slow sip of my coffee.

“I wonder what your real mom would say about that.”

I sigh. “Yeah, that’s probably a good point. I’m sure
she’d encourage me to get to know this woman. I’m just not sure if I’m ready for that yet.”

“Sounds like the ball is in your court, Kim. It’s not like she can force herself on you—living halfway around the world, that is.”

“That is a comfort.”

“Maybe you just need some time to let this news settle,” he says as he wipes a small spill of coffee from the counter. “Take it to God and see what He’s telling you to do.”

“You’re right.” I’m looking at the photo again. And even though this woman is in her forties, she’s still very good-looking. “You really think I’m prettier than her?” I ask Cesar, instantly wishing I hadn’t.

He laughs. “Oh, you know that I think you’re pretty, Kim. I’ve told you before that if I was into dating, you’d definitely be on my A-list.”

I shake my head. “Too bad.”

He nods. “Yep. Too bad.”

“Would Chloe still be on that list?” Don’t ask me why I say this. Maybe I’m just stalling before I have to leave this warm place and face the elements on my way home.

“Chloe’s heart belongs to Jeremy Baxter,” Cesar says. This is old news, of course, but not anything that I’ve heard Cesar talk much about.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Of course. Chloe and I have only been friends for several years now. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

So then I ask Cesar about where he’s going to school next year, and he mentions several possibilities, including Bible college. “I think God might be calling me into some kind of ministry,” he says quietly.

“Really?”

“I haven’t actually told anyone, besides Josh. Because I’m not sure. Maybe I’m just hoping. Anyway, I’d appreciate it if you kept that under your hat.”

“No problem.” I slip the letter and things back in the envelope. “Maybe the same with me. Not that anyone would really care about my birth mom. But I think I’d like to keep it quiet for a while. Until I can figure out what I’m going to do.”