Dean, Kenneth, Carmen, Eve, and Gabriel - the children of Lafayette Jeff-Lane and Emerson Jeff-Lane, the power couple of the world, have grown into young adults and are taking on the world.
As the children of the boss grow up in a world where everyo...
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August 1st
This time three years ago when I was fourteen I was in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. I was standing on the balcony overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. I was with my whole family, my closest friends. Dad and I spoke Portuguese together with locals. We saw all the attractions and ate the best food. I was so thankful for my parents during that trip. They told me I was adopted when I was five and that my biological mother was only fifteen when she had me. They had been visiting Brazil at the time, for business reasons. Dean and Kenneth stayed at our grandparents' for those two weeks.
When they came back, Dad told them they were going to adopt from a young woman named Clara. Apparently she had been pregnant and their server and her father, who was the boss, didn't treat her right. Dad took sympathy and talked to her. She knew English but not that well. Apparently she reminded him of Kenneth, his childhood best friend that committed suicide, the person Kenneth my brother was named after. She confessed she got pregnant because she was trying to prove to her family that she wasn't lesbian, and then they were angry at her for being pregnant and were going to kick her out unless she worked day and night at their family restaurant. Dad went to the restaurant often, usually when Pop was off talking business. She confided in him. Dad connected with her. A month later I was adopted.
She received a lot of money in the form of a scholarship and was selected for a foreign exchange program that put her in Boston, very close to where we were. She visited sometimes but worked hard on her school work and then attended Purdue University in Indiana. She went back to Brazil. I vaguely remember her visiting, but I remember seeing her images and being told she was my mom. I didn't understand I was adopted until they told me. We would sometimes email but it started to fade as she got busier and busier. When I was fourteen, we visited her though.
She was amazing. A professor of anthropology with published works dating a woman that was a political activist. We bonded and actually kept in contact more after that. It was the best moment of my life, being able to have my parents, my siblings, and my mom all together.
So as I stood on the porch with my boyfriend as he told me I was being irrational and emotional, I couldn't wait to get to my room and vent to her.
"Joe, you're making a scene," I said.
"Well if you fucking listened to me then I wouldn't have to," he said, talking quietly but it was obvious we were fighting.
"You should try listening to me."
He grabbed my wrist. "I do listen to you but you never say anything. Why don't you open up to me? Why don't you trust me?"
"It's not easy for me to open myself up and you know that. I do tell you things but you always force them out of me."
He squeezed my wrist harder. The skin wrinkled under his fingers but I didn't stop him. "I wouldn't force them out of you if you just told me."
