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The most surprising thing was, out of the blue one night, I wrote a letter to the Biological Sperm Donor—Gerard, I corrected myself. From now on, I was going to refer to him by his name. I knew I’d never mail it. But I’d researched and found out more about him from the information that my mom had given me. I also tried to find anything I could about my three half siblings that were almost two decades older than me. I had one half-brother, Glen, who was thirteen years older than me and two half-sisters in their late thirties.
I wrote this letter to Gerard, my father, and in it I poured out all my grief at the loss of a parent I never knew. I resented him but I also wanted to know him. And at last I let myself admit that. I wanted it, but not enough. I wanted my hatred for him to melt away so I would be free. Because my entire life I’d seen those feelings as a fortress protecting me from potential hurts and damages. Instead of a fortress, they had been a cage, holding me back.
And maybe someday, somewhere along the line, I’d finally be able to open my heart to someone, once it had healed.
Heath came up the following weekend and stayed in his old room. He’d lived with us during the last three years of high school when his own parents had thrown him out after he came out to them.
We went out at certain times of the day to catch the light just right for his photos. It was during his sunset shoot that he broached the forbidden subject.
“You heard from Drake?” he asked casually as he pivoted his camera on its tripod to get a better angle of the homestead house and the three cabins all lined up nicely alongside it.
I shook my head, following his vantage point down the long slope of our drive.
“You haven’t logged in to the game in weeks. I keep looking for you. You going to quit?”
I shrugged. “There’re lots of games out there. I can play something he didn’t design. ”
“It sucks that you are going to let him drive you away from a game that you love and all your online friends. I’ve gotten messages from both Persephone and FallenOne saying they were worried about you. ”
My insides tightened and I swallowed. “Oh really? Fallen asked about me?”
“Yeah, couple nights ago. Said he was worried. Told him you were at your mom’s. ”
“Shit,” I said, squeezing my eyes closed and turning away from him to rest my arms on the ranch fence that surrounded our property. “That’s all he told you? He didn’t tell you his name or anything like that?”
Heath hesitated. “Why would he? He’s never told us his real name. ”
I clenched my teeth, staring toward the dying sun. “Yeah, he had a reason for that. ”
“What—that he’s a chick or something? Or someone famous? Remember when we all used to try to think up what movie star or famous athlete he was?”
I drew in a breath and held it. I wanted to make my voice sound as calm as I could when I told him. It wouldn’t tremble or break—it would be strong, clear. “FallenOne is Adam. ” Shit. It had quavered. The moment I’d said his name, I’d heard a slight tremor right at the end of the second syllable.
There was a long stretch of silence. “No shit?” he said, his voice dark.
I nodded. I wished it was all just a joke.
“Well—fuck—that explains a lot, I guess. ”
“Like what?”
“Drake always seemed kind of familiar to me. He didn’t to you?”
He’d overwhelmed me. Completely. Like the storm I often likened him to, he’d obliterated everything else around him. I shrugged.
Heath shot me a concerned look. “It really didn’t end well between you two, did it?”
“I’m not going to talk about it. ”
He sighed. “Mia, I’m just worried. You don’t look well. Your mom says you aren’t eating much and you work yourself exhausted every day. ”
“It’s good for me. ”
“Holding on to anger and resentment isn’t. ”
I sighed. “You’ve been hanging around my mom too long. ”
“What did he do to you?”
I blinked and looked away. “Nothing I didn’t want him to do. ”
His brow trembled. “Ah. ” Then he cleared his throat. “That’s not what I meant. I mean why are you like this? I’ve known you for ten years and I’ve never ever seen you cry like you did that day in Irvine. You aren’t eating, aren’t acting normal. Are you at least going to retake your MCAT, still?”
I looked away. “The jury’s still out on that decision. ”