Chasing Ellie

30. Pinky Fingers

Ellie Hope

Freddie and Lizzie are constantly bickering. Someone from the outside looking in might think they hate each other. The way they fight and yell and steal each other's toys. In all reality that is not the case. And when Freddie has an afternoon with his biological parents, Lizzie is always down until his return.

So I usually annoy her. To help the time pass. You know, big sister duty.

"What ya reading?" She yelps as my momentum shakes the whole bed, shooting me a glare.

"Narnia." She snaps.

"Should have known. What does this make time 304?" I tease.

Lizzie is a little bookworm, reading above the standard reading level for her third grade brain. And the Chronicles of Narnia are her favorite.

"Shut up." She scolds me but I lift the covers and snuggle in bedside her.

As if on cue, she wiggles closer, her warm body pressed against mine.

"We should be having a girl's night." I tell her, my fingers finding a lock of her brown hair and I twist it between them. "Mani/pedis, cheesy girl movies, snacks. Freddie's not here to crash it."

But Lizzie doesn't bite at my offer, instead a heavy sigh deflates her chest, somber and loaded down.

"Why does he get to know his real parents?" She asks, big round chocolate eyes stare up at me.

As a child of a closed adoption I've asked myself that a thousand times. It obviously wasn't mom or mama who wanted it closed otherwise Freddie's would be too. So why did my biological parents never want to know me?

"We know our real parents silly." I feign innocence. "We live with them."

Mom and mama are as real as any one else's parents. They've been the ones there for everything. But the curiosity of who I came from is overwhelming.

Lizzie doesn't like my answer, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. "You know what I mean."

I do. God do I. I have countless hours into trying to figure out who my biological parents are.

But Lizzie's, the small amount I know about hers, that information won't serve her well at all. The thought of her finding out terrifies me. It'll steal her innocence, maybe even conjure up feelings disgust within herself because whoever the man that raped her mother is, is disgusting. He's disgusting and vile and evil and no part of that is Lizzie.

Except that he is apart of Lizzie.

His horrible actions helped create her. And I don't want her to feel shame for that.

Lizzie is beautiful. Full of sass like a little girl should be. Intelligent and bright and full of curiosity. Why put any sort of evil into her mind?

"You know Liz, we are super lucky to have mom and mama. They're here, all the time, giving us love and support. Our biological parents knew they couldn't take care of us. We should just be thankful that they gave us an opportunity to live in a home full of love." I tell her.

I'm a hypocrite I know.

And it's another reason why finding my biological parents has to remain a secret.

"I just wonder what they're like." She murmurs.

Wrapping my arms around her, I let my eyes survey her room. It's still partially little kid but there's also hints that she's growing up. A tablet plugged in and charging, her barbies hidden in the closet because she still loves to play but she's nearing that age where some of the kids are trying to grow up to fast.

"Well that's easy." I say. "They're each a little bit of you."

                             ————————

Freddie and Lizzie have gone to bed, probably even mom and mama. But I'm up late, trolling the internet for anything and everything that sort of relates to a woman named Diana Fowler and a man named AJ.

There's so many AJ's. Countless profiles on Facebook with AJ as a name. It's overwhelming and it makes the task feel so daunting that it seems almost impossible.

So impossible I decide to take a break, switching over to the people whose names I already know. Like Darren Hannigan.

He's interesting and even though his random outburst of facts is not that normal, I sort of like it. He's clearly bright unlike the soulless idiots he hangs out with.

His profile opens on my screen, the photograph of him mid swing in the corner. I'm pleased to see he accepted my friend request, it makes it easier to stalk him plus we've now had lunch together so we've bridged the online friends gap.

My attention shifts to the side where the little green dots are paired with the all the people active online at the moment and his name is one of them.

It only takes me a minute to mull it over, clicking on his name to send him a message.

Me: up late gathering information about how important pinky fingers are?

I bite at my nails as I watch the three dots pop up. A smile pulls at the corner of my lips, my chest bubbling with anticipation.

Darren: did you know that short pinkies are often found on high scorers for Neuroticism? They say it's not a definite indicator but coincidental nonetheless.

Me: what is Neuroticism?

Darren: emotional instability

I wish I had something witty to say back but he's stumped me and as I sit there with an increased heart rate hoping he says more even though I already know it's highly unlikely I can't help but inspect my pinky fingers.

They seem proportionate enough. I think.

Darren: are you also up late researching pinky fingers?

A laugh builds until I blow it out through those quietly, careful not to wake anyone else in my house. I was joking about the pinky research but apparently Darren wasn't.

Before I can think better of it, I ask him if he's willing to risk his other pinky. He responds instantly with "absolutely".

I'll probably regret it come morning when I realize I've told my secret and now the chances of more knowing has increased. But in the stillness of the night, with the quiet that is Darren I tell him about my quest to find my biological parents.

His answer: want help?

——————————

Watching the inauguration of President Biden and VP Harris yesterday and I'm nearly certain the hubs cried for 98% of it.

To clarify, I'm mostly certain he was crying because everyone on tv was getting choked up with happiness. He suffers from that whole issue of if he sees someone cry then he will mostly definitely cry as well.

Not that the inauguration wasn't awesome. Because it was. Definitely tear worthy. Tears of happiness.

But it's also fun to poke fun at how easily he cries so naturally I spent yesterday going "are you crying? Again?" 😏

In emojis:

the hubs: 😭🥺😭🥺
Me: ☝️😏😂🙄🤣