CHAPTER TEN – The White Box
I played with the bread crust on my plate as I gazed at the two little boys sitting next to me, talking animatedly about the latest Pokémon XXVI episode. I found it highly ironic that there I was, totally overwhelmed by this once in a lifetime experience and there they were, chatting about make-believe animals that made annoying sounds.
Despite myself and the situation, I quietly laughed, realizing that it was the first time I'd laughed in weeks.
We were all seated around the dining room table later that day. Manuela had prepared lunch and I'd managed to politely take a few bites, even though each time I swallowed, it felt like the food was scraping my throat. The emotional stress had definitely taken a toll on my physical body.
The conversation around the lunch table had been fairly light. I barely said two words myself, still concerned and slightly embarrassed by the vulnerability that I had exposed myself to after displaying that much emotion earlier on.
"Okay, kids," Manuela announced. "Finish up those lunches quick! Then you can go play that new game Daddy bought you yesterday!" At that, Ryan and Jake stuffed their mouths with the last of their sandwiches and gulped down their orange juice, jumping off their seats and racing out of the room.
"Mention a video game and you can get them to do absolutely anything," Craig chuckled, getting up and stacking the dirty plates they left behind.
"Hun, just leave the dishes for later," Manuela said with a small smile. "I think it's a good time to talk over some tea." She went into the kitchen as Craig led us into the living room. I slowly walked around the room, delicately letting my fingers trace the edge of picture frames holding photos of the boys.
I stopped and picked up a wooden frame which held a beautiful black and white photo of Craig and Manuela in an embrace, on their wedding day. I looked up and saw Craig watching at me.
"It's amazing how much you look like her," he remarked. I gave him a half smile and put the photo down just as Manuela walked into the room and placed the tray she was carrying onto the coffee table. She sat down on the couch next to Craig, and I took a seat next to Pete, across from them. No one said anything while Manuela poured tea into the cups.
"I know this must all be overwhelming for you, Cassie," Manuela said, looking up at me. "This is above anything I've ever imagined myself." I brought my cup to my lips and sipped too quickly, burning my tongue. I felt stupid just sitting there and not saying anything. I had planned this moment out in my head a million times. All the questions I had, everything I wanted to say to them.
I saw Manuela give Craig an anxious look when I didn't say anything. Then she suddenly burst into tears and leaned closer to Craig to sob on his shoulders. He stretched his arm around her to comfort her, kissing her hair. Through her tears, she looked up at me again and cried,
"Cassie, I know you're angry at me. I-I know you think that I am this callous, awful human being for abandoning you when you needed me the most." She started to sob really hard, and I started to speak up, but she interrupted me. "No. Just please let me finish. I hate myself for doing that to you. My heart still aches every single time I see a baby with it's mother. To think of how many times you've cried out for your Mommy... and I wasn't there..." she trailed off and Craig pulled her closer, with tears in his own eyes.
Surprising even myself, I instinctively stood up and kneeled on the floor in front of Manuela, taking her hands in mine.
"I don't want you to think that I hate you. I don't," I told her, forcing her to look into my eyes. "I never have." She leaned down and kissed my cheek, her tears wetting my skin. She wiped it away softly with her hands.
"I don't want you to ever doubt the love that your Dad and I have for you. We have loved you every single day of your life," she said emotionally. There was nothing I could do but trust in what she said. "I-It's no consolation, but I have something I want to give you." I leaned back on my feet to give way as she passed me and she brushed away her tears as she walked over to a set of oak drawers on the other side of the room. She pulled one open and took out a large white box with a sheer pink ribbon wrapped around it.
She handed it to me and as I gently tugged at the ribbon, she began to explain.
"On your second birthday, I started to write letters to you every other day, hoping – hoping that one day you'd get to read them and know that there wasn't a day when I didn't think about you." I lifted the cover and from the huge pile of papers inside, took out the first piece of stationary. I unfolded it and began to read the tear-stained ink.