Lost and Found

“I’m going to go,” I said to Marianne the next day while putting my dirty hair up in a pony tail.

“Are you sure?” she asked, putting a hand on my shoulder and looking me square in the eye.

I sighed, thinking it through dropping my arms to my side. “Yeah, I’m sure. I need to ask Heather and Nick some questions anyway.”

She nodded and pulled me in a hug. “I’m sorry,” she told me in a whisper. "You should've found out a different way."

I nodded and gave a half hearted smile. After a bit of silence I left and walked slowly to the place I’ve called home all these years. The news was such a shock. Why did this happen to me? Why did it have to be this way? I needed to find out who my real parents were. I had a few questions for them myself.

I walked in the door and shut it, looking around the empty house. I felt lost and I felt like I didn't belong here anymore. Most of all, I felt like I wasn't supposed to be here.

“Heather? Nick?” I called. The two ran in from the kitchen and picked me up in a hug. I pushed them away.

“We were so worried,” Nick said. I was pushing myself to use their first names. They were no longer my parents. Parents to me were on the biological level, and these were not them. They raised me but all along they were just my babysitter.

"I just want you guys to know first off I am pissed. I am livid." The pair didn't say anything. Heather looked like she was going to but she stopped herself and crossed her arms across her chest. “I have some questions,” I said roughly. The pair nodded and I led them to the living room. They sat while I stood. “What do you know?” I crossed my arms and waited for their answer.

“We don’t know much at all,” Heather started. “It was a closed adoption. The mother just… popped you out and handed you over.”

My face distorted into anger, showing what I felt on the inside. I didn’t know who to be angry at. “What the hell?” I burst. “How can anyone do that?” I was now pacing in front of them, pointing fingers and placing blame. “How can you just say it like that? Like it's not a big deal? Do you know how abandoned I felt when I was told I was adopted? How could you lie to me for seventeen fucking years? Both of you?! Were you ever going to tell me?”

Heather and Nick looked shocked, but they kept their heads low like a child being punished. Like I did when I was three, sneaking into the cookie jar before dinner.

“No,” Nick said, after looking to Heather.

“Did you ever meet my birth parents?” I asked, softer now.

“We worked things out with the mother, I don’t remember her name. She came in with her parents and our lawyer, sort of like that one movie, Juno," Heather said.

I paced some more. “Did she name me?”

“No. I did,” Nick told me.

I sighed and sat down across from them. “Why didn’t she want me?” I asked, even softer now. A Crack found its way in my voice.

“She had told us she couldn’t take care of you,” Heather said.

“She was sixteen, Lizzie; she explained she wouldn’t be able to handle the responsibility or the financial part of raising a baby.”

I scoffed. “Great, my mother was a sixteen year old floozy that couldn’t keep her legs shut. I feel so much better.” I rubbed the space between my eyes, easing an upcoming headache. “If you saw her, would you recognize her?”

“Yes. But we haven’t. You look a lot like her, I guess. We haven’t heard any word from her since you were born,” Heather said.

“She didn’t even want to know about me?” They shook their heads ‘no.’

“If you want some information, you could try to call the hospital you were born at, or maybe the local one has some information. Your records are there anyway,” Nick suggested. “We’ve lost contact with the lawyer.”

The one question I had now: Does my father know about me? Does he know that his girlfriend, or one night stand, or whatever it was, had his baby? I ran up to my room and slammed the door. I needed some time alone. Either that or I just needed some support.

I needed my real parents. This burning desire in me drove me to know who they were. Are they leading normal lives without me? I could have brothers or sisters I never even knew about. What if Marianne’s parents are really mine too? I know that we were both born in California, just different parts of it. That would be a trip. ‘Hey, Marianne, guess what? We’re related!’

That would be something to be happy about. I would love to be related to one of my best friends. It would be amazing. That, too, would be a long shot. I slowly pulled out my phone and dialed Danny’s number. I needed them to help me with something.

+

“Are you sure you can’t give them to me?” I asked the receptionist one more time. Marianne and Danny were waiting in the car. I had a plan. If they wouldn’t give them to me, Marianne and Danny agreed to go in and steal some information.

“I’m sorry, but those records are classified. No one is allowed to them. Look, I’m sorry you’re adopted, looking for answers and whatnot, but those records are highly confidential.”

"But they are about me, they're my records," I tried, not fully understanding.

"I'm sorry," she said again, "but they clearly state that these records are not to be viewed by anyone. Including you. It was a closed adoption, meaning that the birth mother didn't want any contact and she didn't want anyone knowing who she was. There is very personal information in these records and I just can't hand them to you. If you want, I’m sure you can try to call the hospital in California where you were born but I’m sure they will tell you the same thing."

I huffed, annoyed, and just turned around, heading for Danny’s vehicle. I opened the door and slammed it.

“They wouldn’t give them?” Danny asked, turned in his seat. I shook my head, telling him ‘no.’

“Well, I guess we have an undercover job, then, Dan,” Marianne said, opening the door. “See you in a few.”

Danny and Marianne got out of the car, shutting the doors behind them. I watched as they walked into the hospital.

They were gone for at least an hour. But it seemed like days. I was so thankful they were risking getting caught and going to jail for me. No normal person would do this. Just my friends would. I consistently watched the entrance for their arrival. Even on a few counts I had thought they were caught and already in handcuffs. I finally breathed when I saw them walking out of the hospital with confused looks on their faces.

“Did you get it?” I asked when they were both in the car.

“Uh… yeah,” Danny said. Marianne handed me a piece of paper with her hand writing on it.

“I wrote all I could,” she said.

I started to read her scrawl.

Elizabeth Malory Dean
DOB: 8 - 4 - 1997
Weight: 8 lbs. 7 oz.
Length: 20 in.

Birth Mother: Valary DiBenedetto
Birth Father: Unavailable
Birth Mother’s Address (as of 8 - 4 - 1997): 910 East Main Ave., Huntington Beach CA
Phone Number (as of 8 - 4 - 1997): (238) 555-3827

Type of Adoption: Closed
Adoptive Mother: Heather Dean
Adoptive Father: Nick Dean
Adopted on: 8 - 5 - 1997
Current Address (as of 8 - 4 - 1997): 231 Oak Park Street, Los Angeles, CA
Phone Number (as of 8 - 4 - 1997): (238) 555-3281

I put the paper down and just stared at it for a moment. “Valary DiBenedetto?”

“We’ve always just joked about it…” Marianne said. “What if we were telling the truth, and didn’t know it?”

“Yeah…” Danny agreed. They were both blank. This has come to a shock for all of us.

“We need to go on a road trip,” I said suddenly. Marianne and Danny looked at me from the front.

“To where?” Danny asked.

“California,” I said. I was being serious. “What if Valary DiBenedetto is a completely different person than we think? And she still lives at this same place?”

“Look, honey,” Marianne said. “The chances of there being two Valary DiBenedettos in Huntington Beach are very low. You’re Matt and Val’s baby…”

“I just want to make sure. If not this Valary, then maybe her parents. They have to know she had a baby. We could go see my real grandparents at least.”

“And do what? ‘Hey, I’m your daughter’s child! How are you today? Where can I find Mummy and Dahddy?’ Besides, Liz. With what money are we going to get down there? We used it all on the concert.”

“Heather and Nick owe me at least this,” I told them seriously. “They should give us money for gas and food. We can sleep in the car for all I care.”

Danny and Marianne looked at each other. “Mom and Dad will give us some; too, seeing this is a good cause. We can use that,” Danny said.

Marianne nodded. “Dawn and Mom will be more than happy to help. But we may need more. It’s at least a three day driving trip. We need gas money, food money, sleep money. We need like... a thousand dollars.”

“Let’s hit up all we can then,” I told them. “We can at least try. I need to know, you guys.”

Marianne’s lips fell into a thin line as she placed a hand on my shoulder. “I know,” was all she said. “We will try everything we can. If we have to we’ll panhandle,” she laughed. It was contagious and I found myself chuckling.

Notes