Meeting You

• Shams Alkadhi, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2019

My heart is beating in my chest. It’s a sound I know all too well, one I’ve been hearing too much lately. Without even thinking, I lift my hand and flatten my hair. Do I look okay? This is the most important day of my life. It has to be perfect. I’ve been up all night thinking about this, and now I’m overthinking everything. Will they be proud of me? Will they love me like I was still theirs, or would they neglect me? This is my first time meeting my biological parents. And I’m terrified.
My mother and father were never off well. My dad never went to university and worked as a waiter until he got fired. My mum worked in a factory until she lost her job due to automation. Apparently, that means the factory found a machine that could do her job instead, so they replaced her. They didn’t have enough money to raise me, so they had to let me go when I was about three. My adopted parents told me this. Well, mainly my mum. She wasn’t the type of adoptive parent that never talked about my past situation and tried to hide it. She told me that my parents loved me very much and putting me up for adoption was one of the hardest things they’ve ever had to do.
The drive felt like forever, even though it was only 45 minutes. It took ages to track my parents down, but when I did, my parents promised to take me to see them. I was excited at the time, but now I’m having second thoughts.
We’re here. The house is big, but not above average, and I’m guessing it’s better than what they had when I was born. I ring the doorbell and shuffle my feet. A kind woman opens the door and smiles. I’m surprised I recognise her, then I remember why. I had dreamt about her, but she never said anything. She was beautiful, with olive skin, freckles and dark hair. Her eyes seemed tired but still had an element of etherealness. You could tell I was her daughter. Her face became frozen when she looked at me. She looked sad, so I said, “Hi mum.” When I ran to hug her, the wind blew my hair and my tears rolled down my cheek. She was crying too. “Hi sweetheart, I love you so much,” I heard her say.
We sat down in her living room while she poured me and Liz some tea. We talked for hours, and she apologised for giving me up and explained that she was much better now, and I could live with her if I wanted to. I looked over at Liz, my adoptive mum, who looked at me with sad eyes. I told mum, “I’d really love to, but I don’t want to leave my adoptive parents and my school.” She smiled and said it was alright and I could visit her anytime I ever wanted to.
When we said goodbye to my mum and dad and got in the car, I looked at the window and replayed the last few hours. This went so well, and my parents really seem to love me despite not having even seen me for the past fourteen years.
I don’t know why I was so worried.