When You Know

21 - Finally, you remember I exist; you know, that newborn baby you abandoned?

Turns out, I know how to talk a big game, like when you break a bone and assume because it doesn't hurt any more, nothing will ever hurt again by comparison and that you can handle anything . . . like meeting estranged biological mothers.

But, when it comes down to it, I'm a chicken. A giant, feathery, jittering chicken wanting to fly away from the hungry, predatory fox that wants my head on a platter.

When we lived with Nanny Mary, she kept chickens in our backyard for eggs, and one night a fox got in there and ripped all their heads off and left them lying decapitated around the backyard.

That's what I felt like—a headless, flightless chicken with a literal broken wing—because the minute Bree walked into Greenies, I lost my brain and all the words held in there that I had rehearsed all week after she agreed to meet us, and I was left with nothing. No other words popped into my head other than, 'Oh shit, this was a bad idea.'

I could feel Mum tense up next to me. She was holding my hand—the one not wrapped in plaster—so tightly I wondered whether this was how Tanner felt when Morgan was giving birth to Willow. I would have to apologise to him for thinking he was being a wuss, because damn, I didn't know hands could squeeze so tight. I thought she was going to break all the bones in my hand and I was going to have to go back to the hospital and have the other hand plastered, too.

The second Ruben put his hand across both of ours in her lap, Mum's relaxed and I started to regain feeling in my fingers. I appreciated so much that he had that calming effect on Mum because I could have sworn the tips of my fingers were turning blue and I was going to require amputations.

I could see how blue they were because I looked down when I saw Bree walk in. Jet had hung out in my bed with me last night before I fell asleep showing me pictures of her through his Facebook account just so I had some idea about what she looked like for today. He told me he was proud of me for being so brave, and that he would be right there beside me the whole way, which he was, huddled in tight on the opposite side to Mum.

Bree was getting closer, and I was forgetting how to breathe. I heard Jet take a deep breath next to me, reminding me to do the same, and whisper, "You've got this, little bro." I didn't have anything, but I appreciated that he thought I did.

She stopped in front of our table where we had made sure there was a seat waiting for her on the opposite side to where Mum and I were sitting. I didn't want to sit next to her and neither did Mum.

Bree was smiling, as if it wasn't an effort for her to be here and that she didn't carry with her eleven and a half years of heavy emotional baggage. I was glad I still didn't look anything like her, because that would have made this even more awkward.

"Hey, sis," she said, looking at Mum. I felt Ruben's hand tighten around ours again as if he were protecting us from her from under the table. "Can I get a hug?" she asked, nowhere near as nervously as she should have been sounding in this moment.

The nerve of her, asking for a hug after just abandoning us and still not even acknowledging me.

"Hi, Bree," said Mum, standing up from the table and walking around to her. "It's good to see you." Mum hugged her and I watched as Bree looked back towards me.

Finally, you remember I exist; you know, that child you abandoned at two days old?

"You remember Ruben?" said Mum, gesturing towards Ruben who got up and shook Bree's hand. "And this is Jet," who followed Ruben's lead and did the same. Which left me, alone at the table awkwardly, wishing I had my protectors back around me so I didn't have to feel so exposed.