A New Chapter

The rhythmic tap-tap-tapping of her fire truck red nails against the wooden table fills the dense ­silence between us. She follows my gaze as my eyes flicker to the stack of papers between us. Slowly, the long nails gather up the documents and shuffle them.

“You've decided, then?” Her voice has a somewhat taunting quality.

“I – yes, I have.”

An exasperated sigh escapes her and she laughs without humor. “Well, I can't stop you. You're an adult now, right? Seventeen years old and you already know what's best for you.”

My anger flares and I press my fingers against the edge of the table. “And you do? You're not even my real–”

“As far as the law goes, I am.” She cuts me off in mid-sentence, knowing my next statement. “And, yes, I do know what's best for you.”

I try to swallow the guilt building in the back of my throat, but it sticks there like a lump of mashed potatoes. For a long moment, I can only stare at her. She waits ­expectantly, her thin eyebrows raised in a question. ­Finally, I clear my throat and meet her gaze with a firm expression. The less uncertain I seem, the better. She can smell weakness like a bloodhound finds food.

“In the end it's not your opinion that matters. It's mine. Next year, I am leaving with or without your ­approval. I've tried for the last 15 years to please you, Mom.” My voice rises in irritation. “I've done everything you asked. I never once went against the decisions you made for me. It would be nice if just this once, you could support me.”

Her nails continue to tap on the table. She presses her mouth into a thin line, watching me closely. To my shock, she nods. “Okay.”

“Okay?” I echo, slowly.

She uncaps a pen and begins to sign the documents. I stare, stunned into silence. I expected much worse, a raging war. I anticipated bloodshed and the exchange of harsh words, not compliance and a peaceful surrender. When she finishes signing everything, she hands the ­papers to me. Once I take them, she stands and leaves the room without another word.

Quietly, I leave the kitchen to mail the papers. In the back of my mind, I am agitated. She still managed to make me feel guilty for finally winning and moving onto my own path. I tell myself that when I finally have my answers, it will be worth it. Closing the mailbox, I put up the small red flag with a smile. The plastic flag stands like a sign of victory, a sign of the coming change in my life. I shake my head to rid myself of the guilt trip my mother gave me and go inside to begin the next chapter of my journey: finding my biological family.