Edging Obsession

28

F or as much as I wanted to continue talking to my mother, Anja’s arrival stole the opportunity from me. Everyone freezes when we hear Anja, and she turns to us. Well, mainly when she notices Miles. She screams, covering her mouth, jumping up and down, staring and basically eye-fucking him. In a different situation, I’d put an end to it, but I let her gush over her celebrity crush. Miles has women throwing themselves at him all the time, so it’s odd to see him blush. Maybe it has to do with my parents being present or him knowing he has to explain everything to Anja. Or worse yet, he’s attracted to her.

She rattles on about how much of a fan she is, shooting off question after question before he can answer the first one. This has me laughing, which finally gets her attention. For the first time, Anja realizes there are other people in the room. Her eyes skip from one to the next and to the next, until they land on Miles.

Miles clears his throat. “Thank you for supporting me and the band. I appreciate it.”

He turns toward the rest of us to find my mother and Elisabeth clutching the front of their shirts, faces twisted in agony. Miles introduces my mother and father, not mentioning who they really are, and hugs me to his side when he says I’m his girlfriend. A warmth flows through me while Anja’s smile drops.

I stretch my hand out. “Hello.”

She eyes my hand and takes it cautiously. “What are you doing here?”

Anja’s focus returns to Miles, so he answers. “Some recent information has come to light that we’d like to talk to you about.”

She bites her lower lip as worry paints across her face, so I step in. “No one is hurt or sick.”

I’m glad she speaks English instead of Miles having to translate, especially when we’re unsure of what he’s saying. Miles doesn’t know how to, shall we say, soften the blow. He’s as forward as they get.

Anja asks, “Why is the most popular drummer in the world standing in my living room with his girlfriend and her parents?”

Miles is about to speak, but I hold my hand up. “Let me. Maybe it will be better coming from me.”

“Maybe what will be better?”

I gesture to the couch. “Do you mind if we sit?”

Elisabeth comes over to Anja and hugs her. “Mutter. Was ist denn los?” (Mother. What’s going on?)

Elisabeth nods to me, and I answer. “There isn’t an easy way to say this, so I’ll just start at the beginning.”

Taking a seat on the couch, Anja gives Elisabeth one last glance before joining me. My head tilts as I gaze at her. She does have my parents’ features. There’s little doubt she’s theirs, and a little bit of my heart fractures. It’s one thing to speak about their biological daughter, and another to see her. To see how she’s a product of my loving parents, who have given me everything. My eyes bounce from my mom, dad, and Elisabeth.

I let out a breath and smile. “Miles is only here because of me. We met back in the States and started dating soon after.”

My head turns toward my parents who are as stiff as a log, clasping hands. It kills me that I caused them so much hardship over the years. Being weird and crazy must have put a strain on them. Throw in depression, attempted suicide, and bipolar, and my parents are probably ready to swap children for a while. Except that’s not fair of me to say. They’ve never shown anything but love toward me. It’s my own guilt which has me feeling sorry for their bad luck. And seeing their biological daughter makes me jealous and happy for them at the same time.

I return my gaze to Anja. “Several months ago, I had an accident, which required a blood transfusion.”

Elisabeth sees my parents’ tears and asks for a translation. Miles does so, and she gasps, sitting next to me and resting her hand on my arm.

“Everything’s fine. I’m better now.” I tell Miles to translate for Elisabeth as I speak to Anja. “My parents gave blood. Unfortunately, we found out that they weren’t my biological parents.”

Anja’s mouth drops open. “What? Through your whole life you thought they were your parents?” I nod. “Didn’t they ever tell you, you were adopted?”

“I wasn’t adopted.” I reach for her hand. “They found out we weren’t blood related when they went to give blood. It turns out I was switched at birth.”

So far, it hasn’t sunk in with Anja. She’s listening to my story as if it’s only about me. Her sweet apology for my pain has me swallowing back tears. If I break now, I won’t be able to continue. I lock eyes with Miles, who gives me a faint smile.

“Miles happens to be German, so he hired people to find my birth parents.” Anja slips her hand from mine. My words are making sense to her. I angle my head toward Elisabeth and say, “Your mother is my biological mother.”

Her head whips toward Elisabeth. “Mutter, is das wahr?” (Mother, is this true?)

Elisabeth nods, and a light bulb turns on in her head, except it’s the wrong thought. “You’re my sister?” She claps. “Oh my God, I’ve always wanted a sister.”

Shit! I wish it were true.

My teeth gnaw on my lower lip. This is harder than I thought. I’m trying to take it slow, but it’s only creating more assumptions.

I offer a humorless laugh. “I’ve always wanted a sister, too, but that’s not why we’re here.”

“Wait a minute. You said you were switched. Am I the other switched baby?”

“Yes.” My arm stretches toward my mom and dad. “My parents are your biological parents.”

Elisabeth moves over to Anja, sobbing, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and Anja withdraws from her to stand. She rubs her hands over her arms, eyes wandering from one person to another, backing up until she’s pressed against the wall.

We remain still while she hugs her arms over her stomach and asks, “How did this happen?” Her eyes snap to her mom’s. “Mother. You were born and raised German.” Miles starts translating. A sobbing Elisabeth nods. “How is it possible for me to be switched at birth with an American baby?”

Elisabeth inhales and responds, “I went to spend time with my cousin and went into labor early.”

Anja’s pinched face says it all. Miles doesn’t have to translate. She’s confused, sick, sad, and probably a million other emotions like I felt. When you find out your life isn’t really yours, it rattles the nerves, pierces the heart, and your mind rewinds through the past. The moments of love. Fights. Heartbreak over a boy. Learning how to ride a bike. Waiting at the coffee shop until my parents closed for the day. Dance recitals. My father’s heart attack. The list goes on. There was and is a place of security in my parents’ presence. In their arms. I can only hope Anja experienced the same, which from the looks of it, she did. Elisabeth did what she could to provide a loving and safe house.

Without stepping toward her, I say, “Anja, I know how you’re feeling. When my parents told me, I went through a myriad of emotions.”

She’s staring at me as if wanting more consoling and understanding.

“My parents’ lives revolved around me. Work. School. Dance recitals. Sicknesses. Everything. They never failed to be there, which I’m sure Elisabeth did the same.” Now I take a step forward. “You’re not expected to just accept what we’ve told you and move on. Take your time to process this information, and when you’re ready, we’ll all be here for you.”

Tears dangle on Anja’s lashes. “What was your reaction when they told you?”

I let out a soft laugh, remembering it. “Shocked. Sad. Guilty.”

Her head rests to the side. “Why guilty?”

Looking at my parents, and then Elisabeth, I turn back to Anja. “Because I’m kind of weird.” She lets out a giggle. “No, really, I am weird.” I let out a long sigh. “My parents…” placing my hand on my chest, I add, “… your parents loved me unconditionally.”

She offers me a small smile. “My mother…well, your mother did the same.”

“Then I guess you can say we’re pretty lucky.”

“What kind of accident were you in?”

I glance over my shoulder at Elisabeth, wondering what she’ll think of me. Will she be disappointed? Disgusted? Will she want nothing to do with me? It isn’t until my mom slips her arm through mine, nods for me to go on, that the pounding of blood in my ears subsides.

In a deadpan stare, I say, “I attempted suicide.”

Anja gasps, walking over to me. “What? Why?”

The blush of warmth of my embarrassment has me gazing at the floor. “I’ve suffered from depression ever since I can remember. At one pivotal point, I couldn’t handle the mess I made of my life, wanting it to end. It turns out, I also suffer from bipolar.” I let out a half-hearted laugh. “I’m messed up.”

She touches my arm, and I raise my head. “I’m glad you failed.”

We smile at each other as Elisabeth stands to our side, wondering what we’re talking about. I ask Miles to interpret. After he finishes, Elisabeth is a ball of sobs, and without thinking, crushes me against her. My arms hesitantly capture her, and I rest my head on her shoulder. The silence grows.

Elisabeth releases me. “I suffer from depression, too. I’m so sorry to have passed it on to you.”

“Oh my God, don’t be. You gave me life, which I do love. I just happened to have hit a snag, and I didn’t think it through. Ending my life seemed like the thing to do at the time, but like Anja, I’m glad I failed.”

“Me too.”

Anja focuses on my mom and dad. “Do either of you have any mental illness?”

My dad responds, “No, but I did have a heart attack a couple of years ago.”

She places a hand over her heart. “Are you all right?”

My dad smiles. “Yes, thank you. Elise makes sure I take my medication and eat properly.”

Anja folds her hands in front of her. “I must have gotten my black hair from you.”

“Looks like.”

She turns to my mother. “My face is shaped like yours.”

My mom’s voice catches in her throat. “Your gorgeous.”

Anja’s face flushes. “Thank you.”

“May I give you a hug.”

She shakes her head. “Please forgive me. I’m not ready yet. This is all so…”

“Of course. I understand.”

The boom of Miles’ deep voice shakes us all awake. “Why don’t you come to my house?”