Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
“You have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I know one thing for certain. You’re not God, regardless of whether you believe in Him or not. He exists without your stamp of approval. I’m not like you. You need to humble yourself. You have no idea what it’s like to go from being on cloud nine, living your dreams on Broadway, having amazing friends and a beautiful life, to then have it all come crashing down around you because your father died suddenly, and your mother is being accused of stealing you. All because some lady pops up on the news, live from her sick bed, talking about Dad is a fraud! A salacious scandal erupts. People feel pity for you and you hate them for it! The way they look at you… judge you. The praises for Dad turned to curses. Did you see what people were writing about him online?! It turned into racial debates on various popular podcasts—suddenly White people adopting Black babies was a hashtag, all because of me! The Black Ice baby! You have no idea what it’s like to discover that you’re bought and paid for like a damn loaf of bread!”
She hated how her anger and depression began to tumble out, a tender vulnerability that was raw to the ear. Her pain had piercing points and jagged edges, and it slipped along her tongue, cutting deep, sharp syllables crushed into hurtful words that dribbled from her mouth in the form of a fine powder—like cocaine—inflicted to punish and obliterate.
Mom wiped away another tear then pursed her lips.
“Now that you’ve gotten that all off your chest, it’s my turn to reply,” she said after a long silence. “First and foremost, the plane ride over here was pure agony.” She put her napkin on her lap and examined her fork. “I almost threw up the closer I got to Alaska. It was a long plane ride, just like the one I took when I left this Godforsaken place after meeting my ex-husband’s in-laws. Never ending. An aerial torture.”
She picked up the fork and blew on it, then gave it a rub with a small cloth she pulled out of her purse. “It looks gray here. No deep contrasts or boundaries. No colorful curves. A bland tapestry of murky, melting snow, matted fur coats, old and mildewed ideologies concocted and held dear by ancient White men with a slippery grasp on domination… and a surplus of bored children moving about aimlessly like pale-faced zombies, their noses pink but their futures bleak. Their excitement? Nonexistent. How can you stay here so long and not go crazy, Kimberly? Or maybe you did…”
The waitress arrived with Mom’s tea and fruit salad, and she quickly threw on a happy face, thanked the lady, and began sipping on her hot beverage. Kim stared down at her half-eaten croissant and realized she’d lost her appetite.
“Now, to the good part, right? To set the fucking record straight.” Mommy Dearest has entered the chat… “I didn’t know your adoption was illegal. I trusted your father, Kimberly. That was his expertise. I had no reason to question it. He didn’t tell me about any money being exchanged, and even presented the adoption papers to me, pretending they were legit. He knew I would never accept such a situation, regardless of how much I wanted a child… a little girl.”
She stabbed her plump strawberries, stacking them onto the fork, then unloaded them into her mouth.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, thank goodness then that you’re not being paid to be a truth finder. You’d be broke.”
“Hmmm, well, you’re right. I’m not being paid to be a truth finder, but obviously I was being paid for… one way or another.” She rolled her eyes at the woman. “You can attest to that. Continue with your little story of lies so I can leave and go back to my life, please.”
“Listen to me. I’m not lying to you. I didn’t know what actually happened until you were thirteen, Kimberly. To make a very long story short, your father was out of town, and you needed a medical form to head out of the country to Canada with your ballet troop. I went digging in the medical records we kept in the same place as your adoption papers. As I searched, I noticed something I hadn’t before on the adoption papers, by mere chance. The date of your birthday on the paperwork didn’t match the date your father told me your birthday was, and the doctor’s name was missing a letter—an ‘e’. Look at this.” Angelique opened her purse and pulled out a set of tri-folded papers. She positioned them before Kim, placing her finger on a specific line. “I found that strange because there was no similarity in the dates at all, and no adult would spell his own name wrong.