"I decided not to wait until then to speak to you since you have financial obligations with Stanford that need to be addressed more immediately. Congratulations you on your acceptance."
"Uh, thank you," I replied automatically, staring at the figure at the bottom of the page―several commas floating before my eyes. "So this is mine? I can afford to go to college?"
"My dear girl, you can afford college, medical school and still be able to open a clinic in Africa if you wanted." I looked up at his wrinkled face and for the first time his lips motioned a smile.
"I still don't understand," I uttered. "George never claimed to have money. I mean, I lived with them for years."
"George." Charles said it as if the name itself was an enigma. "George's choices were never made clear to me. All I know is that he was provided with an inheritance similar to your father's. What he chose to do with it or to divulge to his wife, is not something I know anything about." He paused. His grave expression pierced me. "I can never express to you how sorry I am for what happened to you while you were in their house." My eyes stung with tears. I blinked heavily to ward them off. "No one should ever have to go through what you were subjected to.
"But your father would be proud of the person you have become, Emma. You are strong and intelligent, and the fact that you are here trying to make amends with Rachel means you have a good heart. He would be very proud."
I nodded, swallowing against my closing throat. I diverted my eyes, not wanting to cry in front of this man.
"You will continue to receive your monthly allowances, and they will increase once you turn eighteen. You will not have full control of your funds until after you graduate from college, or when you turn twenty-one. However, if you need anything, you may contact me at anytime, and I will make the proper arrangements for you, whether it is a computer, or a car, or an emergency situation. Your father has entrusted me to use my best judgment in assisting you."
"Thank you," I whispered, still not processing half of what he'd just said.
"Emma," he beckoned. I looked up at the aged face that remained impassive despite the intensity flickering in his eyes. "You may call me anytime, for any reason. Please understand that. I know you do not know me now. But I hope to gain the same trust and respect that I earned from your father. In the meantime, I wouldn't advise alerting Rachel of this visit, or your inheritance."
"He never trusted her, did he?"
"No," Charles answered flatly. "He loved you more than anything, and wanted you to have both parents in your life. But he did not trust her with his finances, or with you."
"What?" I questioned with raised brows. "What do you mean with me?"
"He hired a woman to care for you when he was at work. Concerned with Rachel's impulsivity, he didn't want you left alone with her. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to secure an alternate custody agreement, in case of his death, before the accident. He was trying to find a way around the legal rights of a birth mother so that you could be raised by someone who was better suited to care for and love you.
"In the meantime, we set up a portion of his estate to go to Rachel, along with the monthly allowances to care for you, which then became accessible to George and Carol when they took custody of you.
"This was never supposed to be your life, Emma. He wanted so much more for you, and I believe he would be happy to know that you will finally get it."
"But I'd trade it all, every penny, to have him back," I wanted to say. I had a hard time raising my eyes to meet his, still too vulnerable with emotion.
We sat in silence for a moment before Charles picked up each paper and placed it in the folder. He handed it to me. I shook my head. "I think you should keep it. I don't want her to find it."
Charles nodded in agreement and inserted the folder into his case. "Then you should program my number into your phone and not keep my card."
I took out my phone and saved his number under the initials "CS".
"It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Emma," Charles said, standing and pushing the kitchen chair back into the table. "Do you have any other questions before I leave?"
"No," I answered lowly, my mind spinning with more than I could process.
"Please call me if you do."
I walked him to the door. He turned to me and placed his hat on his head. "Take care of yourself." He walked out the door before I could respond. I watched him as he continued down the walkway to the large shiny black car awaiting him on the street. I shouldn't have been surprised when a driver stepped out and opened the back door for him.
I was still staring at the empty space when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and answered it.
"We're getting out of practice early," Evan announced excitedly. The lightness in his voice was a shock to my ears. I felt as if I'd just sailed through a hurricane. "Do you want to meet me at my house in an hour?"
I realized I hadn't even started the laundry. "An hour. Um... sure."
I hung up the phone and mindlessly went into the basement, sorting through the clothes to make sure I washed something to wear the next day.
Then I went to my room and sat on my bed, still in a daze. I eyed the drawing on my dresser that Leyla and Jack had sent me, and went to pick it up. As much as I missed them, I kept thoughts of them at bay so I wouldn't be tortured by my choices.
I inspected the woman in the picture. The one with the grey hair. My grandmother.
This family would never be mine.
And then it hit me.
I buckled over like I'd been hit in the stomach and slumped to the floor. I still couldn't comprehend everything that had just happened, but one truth slammed into me with such force I couldn't catch my breath.
I was never supposed to exist.
31. What If
I still hadn't completely pulled myself back together by the time I arrived at Evan's. He was sitting on the front porch swing reading a textbook when I pulled in.
"Hi," I said, sitting next to him, intoxicated by him immediately. It was obvious from his wet hair that he'd just taken a shower. "What are you reading?"
"Nothing interesting," Evan replied, closing the book and setting it on the porch below the swing. He lifted his arm and I nuzzled in under it, resting my head on his chest, breathing him in. "I like this week."
I knew he was talking about the weather, and the fact that we were sitting outside in short sleeves in April, but my thoughts were somewhere else when I inadvertently laughed in contradiction.
"What, you don't?" he questioned, peering down at me.
"Oh, sorry," I shook my head, realizing he'd heard me. "Yeah, it's nice out."
"What were you thinking about?" Evan asked, knowing me too well.
I sat up to face him. My head was spinning, and I wasn't sure if I could verbalize what I was still trying to grasp myself, but I thought I'd give it a try. It took me a minute to open my mouth, but he waited patiently, watching my eyes flicker in thought.
"Not to sound too deep, but I've been considering how just one little thing can drastically affect so many different things. Cause and effect. Choices and consequences. Is there a reason behind it, or is it just chance? Randomness. Like one person bumping into another person. They date, have sex, and the next thing you know―a baby's born. Whether that baby was supposed to be or not. Whether they loved each other or not. It happened. But... what if it was never supposed to happen?"
Evan was silent for a moment. "Where is this coming from?"
"I found something out this afternoon, and I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about it just yet."
"Do you want to go for a walk as we contemplate the meaning of life? Or we don't have to talk at all. We can just walk. But I have to insist on holding your hand, that's not an option."
"Okay," I answered, trying to smile so I wouldn't come across as so depressingly serious. "I'd like it if you held my hand too."
Evan led me around the back of the house, and we followed the cut section of the field that was his backyard toward the woods. We walked in silence for a while, letting the birds and the rustling of the breeze through the evergreens be the only sound. But my mind was not quiet, and it refused to remain calm.
"Will you do something with me?" I asked, mesmerized by our feet as they moved in unison.
"Uh... sure," he responded hesitantly.
"Let's consider what if. But don't read too much into it; it's just hypothetical."
"I can do what if," Evan agreed, taking my request seriously.
"What if... what if I didn't exist," I presented. "As in, I was never born."
"Em," Evan stopped me, pulling his brows together.
"It's hypothetical, remember? I'm not suicidal or anything, I promise," I assured him in a rush.
"Okay, fine," he conceded with a breath. "What if you never existed? I think you've already considered this, so why don't you tell me."
"If I never existed, then my father would still be alive." I kept my eyes on the ground, because just saying that one statement out loud sent a shiver through my body and made my eyes tear up.
"If I never existed, then Leyla and Jack would have both of their parents." I struggled to keep my voice even.
"If I never existed, then my mother might actually be happy."
Evan stopped. We had reached the end of the path right before it opened up into the meadow.
"And what about me?" he asked, his eyes steady and focused, trying to read my thoughts.
"Well, you and your father would be talking,” I answered with false playfulness, trying to return it to the hypothetical game that I’d initially presented.
Evan chuckled. "That is probably unlikely. We'd find some reason to argue... or not talk."
We were quiet as we walked through the meadow. It was starting to transition into the spring green that made it breathtaking. The brook was thick, brimming from the recent rain. It rushed with force over the stones.
Evan sat down and I nestled next to him, facing the water.
"My turn?" Evan requested. "I'd like to challenge your what ifs."
"Go for it."
"You don't know what would have happened to your father if he was still alive. I have a feeling he wouldn't be half as happy as he was when he was with you. I saw the way he looked in that picture you have on your dresser; his whole face was completely alive just looking at you. You made him happy, and I would hate to be the one to take that away from him, even if he couldn't have it forever." I smiled affectionately with my eyes glistening and leaned my head against Evan's shoulder as he held my hand.
"And unfortunately for Leyla and Jack, Carol would still be the same whether you were there or not. You certainly didn't make her the way she is, and I can't talk about her more than that." I glanced up and noticed his neck was strained just thinking about her. I squeezed his hand in understanding.
"As far as your mother's concerned, I'm not sure I understand enough about her misery to be able to rebut your what if. If you mean that your father would still be alive, and that would be what made her happy―perhaps. But she's harboring a lot more than just sadness. That was evident the night of her birthday. As I said, I don't understand what's wrong with her, but I'm very doubtful that it has anything to do with you." I didn't have the strength to convince him otherwise―but I knew I was critical to her misery.