Henley, cont.

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Wyoming – Four Years Ago

I'm out of breath. I tighten my grip on the old, yellowing photo in my hand and push through the front door of my childhood home. I'm here for answers.

I'm wrecked. My messy hair is twisted up in high bun and my mascara is so runny I could pass for a raccoon. I could've flown...should've flown. But like everything else lately, I acted without reason or logic. I got in my beautiful black Sparrow, alone, and let her purr down the highways and country roads without thinking about what it would do to my husband. Without thinking what it could do to me...

I drove fourteen some hours with shaky hands, a pounding heart and a cigarette in my mouth. I sobbed at stop-lights and screamed questions at people who weren't there. I ignored phone calls from Ryan, who was out of his mind worried about me and why I'd left in such a rush. At one point I looked down at my phone and saw a text message that read,

Are you leaving me?

And the best I could come up with...the most I could muster up from my stupid, selfish, broken, little girl heart was:

Jesus Christ. No. I love you. I just need to do this alone.

He he had no idea what was wrong. I left in a hurry. I Threw clothes in a duffel bag and took off within an hour of finding that folder. Within an hour of finding this photo that's in my hand.

I'm 19-fucking-years-old and I need answers. Now. Right fucking now.

As soon as I see them, my insides rot. Dad's sitting a chair, reading the Sunday newspaper like he's some easy-going, laid back person who cares about the rest of the world. His feet are up on an ottoman and Mom's sitting on the couch with her head tipped back and some stupid facial mask on her eyes. I storm in hard and fast, demanding answers that should've been given to me years ago.

"Henley..." The disbelief is clear in his eyes. I've had hours alone on the road to process the fact that I'd willingly come back here, and it's obvious he's shocked to see me back here, too. "Henley, what are you doing here? You should've called. We could've made up a room..."

"What the hell is this?" I scream at my father, holding tightly to the only piece of evidence I have of what I believe to be true. Proof that I didn't have to grow up the way I did.

As if just joining the situation, my mother sits up and squints through the blue goop slathered on her cheeks. They stare at me for a few seconds and say nothing, and I realize just how long it's been since I've been home. I stopped coming home for breaks after my junior year of high school, having stayed in residence halls until I graduated and moved to California for Stanford.

I hated this godforsaken place so much I bought all new clothes and furniture just so I wouldn't have to come back. It's only by some miracle I found this old picture tucked in a folder my parents sent away with me when I left for boarding school.

I only found it because I was looking for my medical records, but I stumbled upon so much more.

"My god. We haven't seen you in..." Dad stammers. "Sit down. Relax. You look awful."

It's been just two years, but the life I've lead and the things I've learned have made me a completely different person than the spoiled brat they had to bail out of near expulsion.

"What is this, Dad?" I repeat loudly. "Please don't lie to me anymore. Please," I'm crying, but not because I'm devastated. I'm crying because I'm so damn angry and tired of the constant disappointment they keep shoveling out. "Tell me the truth. Just once."

"Why does Mom look like she just stepped off a beach in this picture? Why the hell is my birthday written on the back when I look no less than a month or two old?" I yell.

His eyes shoot to the photo gripped tightly in my left hand. His cheeks redden and as he walks closer, like he knows I'm about to call him out on something he never intended to tell me. I wipe my angry tears away and stare at him, sick that it's even come to this.

And just like that, I'm done crying. I'm done being the victim. It's time I get answers and show him I'm not that broken little girl anymore. I don't need him or his money, and he needs to know just how far I've come.

As he moves to slip the old photo from my fingers, the inside of his palm scrapes my wedding ring. His breath catches just as he's about to say something, and he stops and stares at it in confusion.

"I'm married, but I'm not here to talk about that..."

"You dropped out of school to get married? Henley, what were you thinking..." My mother says loudly, now just a few feet away. "We didn't raise you to be so..."

"You didn't raise me at all," I clarify loudly. "You sent me away before I could even tie my shoes. You kept me away, kept my troubles away. Gave them to someone else...and ultimately, you gave them to me. Because I'm the one who suffered. And now I'm done with all that. Done wondering why you didn't want me. I just need you to say it. To just be honest once in your life."

I give them a moment, but they say nothing. There's nothing they could say to make this better. They're liars, and I won't believe for one moment that they kept this from me to save me heartache. No. Knowing this information would've changed everything.

"Fine," I laugh bitterly, grabbing the photo. "I'll say it. I'm not your child," I snap. When they say nothing, I know. I flip to the back of photo and point to the blue ink scrawled on the bottom. "'Adoption Day'? What? My "birthday" is the day you adopted me? How the hell old am I?! You adopted me for your own social status, then sent me away. You fucking lied to me. If you didn't want me, why the fuck did you adopt me?"

"You're wrong," my father says sadly, placing his hand on my back and leading me toward the kitchen away from my mother. At first, I don't want to go, but then I see remorse in his eyes and I walk. He leads me to a chair and places his hands on my shoulders until I lower to sit. I'm too exhausted to fight it. He sits across from me and for a second, I think I see the man I used to believe in.

"You're mine. My blood. But you're not your mother's," he swallows. "I...misstepped. Made an error in judgement."

"You cheated on Mom," I say bluntly. "Don't sugar coat it." My Mother is a bitch, but no woman deserves to be cheated on.

"Yes," he says honestly. "Your birth mother...she was young and scared and couldn't take care of you. It was just a fling. A few nights I couldn't take back. I didn't even know she was pregnant until she showed up on my door step with you. You were a month old and you nearly blew my world apart.

"Your mother didn't know I'd been screwing around, and I was dumb enough to think I could let it slip away without ever telling her. But then...there was you. I demanded a paternity test and the results gave me all the proof I needed. You were mine, and your birth mother...she was only 18. She had no money. She worked as a candy striper in the hospital...wanted to go into nursing but couldn't afford it." He squeezes his eyes closed and huffs. "And I fucked up, Henley. I fucked everything up. Your mom nearly left me when she found out. She wanted answers, much like you do now, but I only gave her half-truths.

I told her I'd slept with someone and gotten her pregnant. I told her I'd been contacted when your birth mother died and begged for her forgiveness. She forgave me, after awhile, but I doubt she would've had she known the truth. If she'd known my little Jezebel lived under our roof...slept just a few hundred feet away from us every day, cared for you..."

"What?" I stop breathing. I stop thinking. I can't process what he's telling me. "Dad, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying your birth mother relinquished her rights early on, but she was still in your life. I kept things quiet. I knew people. I'm saying that woman, standing in the other room, legally adopted you under the full belief that your birth mother was dead. I didn't expect to keep her around. I thought I could 'hire' her on as your nanny...pay her more than she'd make at any job in any field. I fucked up, and though I may seem like an asshole, I felt differently about her. Like I messed up her life. She was a fling at first. I didn't think I'd develop real feelings for her. I didn't think I'd fall in love with her..."

I said I wouldn't cry. That I was done with being weak...but this man just ripped my heart open and I'm about to bleed out.

"And when I saw her with you...Jesus. I wanted it. Her. You. Us. And I made her believe it would happen. The affair...it didn't stop. Not at first..."

My world is ending. It's splitting apart.

"Joey?!" I scream. "My birth mother is Joey and you couldn't have told me?!" I scream, standing up and slamming the chair until it hits the table. "You're unbelievable! An asshole! You let her take care of me and love me. You made her lie to me for years...and then what? Everything stops? You suddenly send me off to school and send her away like we're nothing? All the while you're cheating on your wife?"

"I didn't make her do anything. Let's be clear. She's as guilty as I am, sweetheart,"

"No," I yell. "Don't you dare try to apologize. Don't you drag her into this when she's not even here! Adoption is one thing. I came here expecting you to tell me you took me in and it got to be too much, so you sent me away. I never expected this. I never expected you to tell me that the woman who I loved more than anyone in the world...the woman that held me every single day for the first few years of my life, was my parent. My own blood. I cried myself to sleep at night thinking my parents didn't care about me. I thought I wasn't good enough. And now this.

"You're a liar. It's no wonder I was a fucking mess. Joey's a liar. You lied to me. You lied to her," I point to the other room because I can't bear to refer to that woman as mom even one more time. "And then suddenly, it stopped. You sent me away. You sent Joey away...and why? Because she found out, didn't she?" I point  again toward the woman I called mother for my whole life.

"I didn't mean to love her, Henley. It was a mistake to even bring her in my home. It wasn't fair to her or you or my wife. But I'm not fair. And I'm not kind. But you got older, and your eyes got bigger and warmer and there was no mistaking that you were Joey's child, and my wife saw right through it. I guess I missed the fact that she knew people, too...the kind who could do some digging and find paternity results.

It blew up in my face, and I didn't know what to do. I panicked. Your mother," he points to the other room, "threatened me. Threatened to divorce me and take me for all I was worth, and at the time, all I could think of was my career. My reputation. She wouldn't look at you...was constantly angry with you as if it was somehow your fault. And she threatened Joey. I thought I had no choice..."

"That's the biggest bullshit I've ever heard in my life," I say softly. "Because if you'd told me, I could've understood. If not when I was that age, than at least when I was older. I could've been happy with Joey, knowing I had someone to go to. Because I needed parents, Dad, and not just when I was little. I needed parents when I was in high school and fucking around in class. Drinking. Doing pot," I scream. "And when it comes right down to it, I could blame you for every last thing that's happened in my life, because I didn't have the support that I needed growing up. But I won't, because it won't change a thing. I've made mistakes. Big ones. But

I'm not that messed up kid anymore. I grew up. And my poor decision making didn't end when I stumbled across that stage at high school graduation. No, it took a whole lot more than college to make me want to change. You know what did it? Love. Pure, easy love from a boy that I married. So fuck you, and fuck 'Mom'" I say with air quotes, "for judging my marriage or anything else. I didn't come to kiss and make up. I came for answers, and I guess that's what I got. And that's all I want from you. We're done..."

"Henley..." he stands, but his plea is half-hearted because he knows there's no way in hell I'm turning back. I storm out the door, so angry I'm shaking. My stomach twists and I vomit before I realize it's coming. I'm clammy and dizzy and in absolutely no condition to drive nearly fifteen hours back to Wisconsin alone. I should call Ryan. I need to call Ryan. He'll forgive me for my outburst. He'll come for me and everything will be alright...

I pull out my phone and begin to dial, wiping my mouth before I slip into my car and back out of the driveway. It rings and rings, but I'm in the middle of nowhere and I lose reception before we connect. I try to send a text message but my signal is gone, so I throw it on the passenger seat and hope for better reception at the hotel. I slam my fists on the steering wheel and let out a string of words that would make a sailor blush. And yeah, I may have grown up a lot lately, but I'm completely okay with being a brat right now.

It takes about twenty minutes to find a hotel that doesn't look like something out of a horror movie, and I'm tired as hell and ready to crash. It's not until I go to fish in my purse for my credit card that I realize it must've fallen out of my purse when I threw up on my parent's porch.

Embarrassed and exhausted, I apologize to the attendant and head back toward to my parents'. I can't bear to see them or talk to them again, so I'm thankful it's pitch black outside. They won't see me, and their driveway's long enough that I can park at the bottom without them noticing headlights.

I can smell the smoke before I reach the driveway. My gut aches with fear. I'm angry with them, hate them for what they did...but I didn't want this. It's all black smoke and flames, without a fire truck in sight. It's what we get for living out here...miles away from everything...from neighbors. My phone's still shit, so without thinking I race inside hoping to get to the phone just inside the living room. It's hot...so fucking hot...I can't see. I can't breathe. But I can hear them screaming...and I can see my Dad stuck underneath a piece of broken wall.

"Henley. Get out of there. Get the hell out of here!" He screams. "Just go. Go!"

But I can't. I hate him, but I can't do this. I can't let them burn, die...just knowing. I have to do something. I scramble to dial 911, but I hear a crack and everything goes black.

Present Day

"Oh my God," I blink through the thick, cold tears weighing down my eyelashes. I don't know how long I've been staring like this or how long these memories took to sink in, but it was long enough that Ryan is awake and rushing to my side, pulling me against his side with a strong, warm arm. "Oh my God..."

"Baby, what's wrong? Jesus, are you okay?" He pushes the damp hair away from my forehead and kisses it softly. His eyes are wide and terrified, much as they were the moment I remembered his drug addiction.

It's this moment I realize I'm now on the floor. I don't remember passing out, but I must've gone down pretty quick. I couldn't have been out for more than a few seconds.

I look to Ryan and wonder how much he knows. It dawns on me that I never had the chance to tell him about my birth mother. I hadn't even told him why I'd left for Wyoming in the first place, just that I needed to do something on my own. He'd begged me, begged me to tell him, but I knew if I did, there was no way in hell he'd let me go alone. And that was something I needed for myself.

He gets me back up in the chair at the kitchen table as Joey slides me a glass of cold water. My stomach hurts too much to down it, but the scared look on their faces pushes me to do it anyway. In moments, my breathing is back to normal and I'm holding Ryan's hand.

"I'm so sorry," Joey says nervously. "This is my fault."

"Of course it isn't," I say. "It happens...memory triggers..." I frown. "I don't usually pass out...but yeah, this was a big one," I let out a long breath. "I mean, I think I got it, but just to be clear..."

"Yes. I'm your Mother, Henley..." She says seriously, and I didn't realize until right now how much I needed to hear the words out loud...how very healing just a few words could be.

"Well holy shit." Ryan says loudly, but I smack his leg to shut him up so I can relish the moment. "And you knew?"

"The night of the fire..." I apologize, and we all fall silent.

"I have a lifetime of apologizing to you, starting with years ago when I showed up on your Daddy's doorstep. I'm so sorry. Beyond sorry, and I hope you'll give me the chance to explain and tell you how sorry I really am."

"Of course," I answer quickly, because it's what I want, too.

I thought it was impossible, but Ryan's eyes go even wider and I can't help but smile. It's possible he's as boggled as I am by all this, and I'm looking forward to hearing the uncensored version of what he really thinks later. Because yeah, it's absolutely coming tonight when we're alone.

How am I still smiling?

I know. I should be angry, right? As pissed at her as I was and am at my father? But she's Joey, and she's the one good thing from my childhood. I've missed her for as long as I can remember, and loved her even longer. Yes, there are a million things we need to discuss. She lied to me, too...and stayed away...

But we'll muddle through all that, and I've got a feeling it won't take long because I believe in forgiveness. And I believe in second chances.

I know what it's like to be young and lost. Afraid. I'm probably the biggest mistake she ever made, but she doesn't look at me that way. No, she looks at me the same loving way she always has, and I don't know how the hell I couldn't see it before, because the love that's radiating from her isn't the affection of a friend or a caretaker. It's the love of a mother, and nothing in the world could make me throw it away.

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