I call to her in the darkness, and I can hear her whimper softly.
“Come to me”, I beckon.
Silence envelopes me as I hold my hands out in front of me feeling through the darkness in this cave like home.
“I understand now”, I whisper.
A sob rings in my ears.
“No, don’t cry. Let me near. Let me come to you.”
There is no easy way to do this, feeling through the darkness, and hoping she’ll make any sound so I can get to her. She’s been alone for too long, and she needs to know that we are one and the same now. There’s no reason for us to be living separate like this any longer.
“You’ve been here alone for too long. I want to share this pain with you.” I feel tears forming in my eyes.
“Please, just let me help you. Let’s do this together, not separate anymore”.
“I’m here” she feebly utters.
“Keep talking,” I say.
“It’s going to get harder to get to me. There’s a drop, and there’s a lot of rocks on that path. It’s too hard. Just let me be here alone, you go back.”
I stumble on a misplaced rock, and bang my head. My tears are from the pain now.
“I won’t do that any longer.” I feel for the wall and I climb back up. I think I smell blood.
“Why did we do this?”
“We had no choice. We had no choice.” I repeat.
“We had no choice” she repeats.
“How did you get down here?” I ask.
“I just kept climbing until I found a safe place. I buried all of the pain with me so you could move on. Did you move on?”
“I did. For a time, until I realized the lie I was living, and how I was in pain. I could still feel it, even though it was all the way down here.”
“Oh. I should have hidden better.”
“No, you should have never hidden. We should have dealt with this together. We will now. When I get to you.”
I climb down, scraping my knees on the rocky terrain. I’m feeling claustrophobic as I realize the walls are getting closer together.
“How is he?” she asks quietly.
Gasping for breath, I collapse.
“I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“They closed it. They said they never wanted us. They kept on holding off the moment when I got see him again. Or talk to him, or be near him. They never let me in. It was a game.”
I hear her draw in her breath.
“But they were the only thing that was going to be okay…”
“They weren’t in it for us. They were in it for a baby, and he wasn’t perfect. And we aren’t perfect. They just wanted a baby. We gave it to them, but it wasn’t what they signed up for.”
“But they did. They lied. They lied. THEY LIED!” her voice cracks, and she begins to wail.
“I know. I know. They did.” I can’t comfort her because that pain is my pain.
The air gets cooler in the cave, and I feel that my feet are on solid ground.
“Are you closer?”
I struggle in the darkness, my eyes still wet from all my confessions, and her pain. Our pain. Then I feel her. Her hands reach up to mine, and I can feel her skeleton.
“Oh. Oh, you didn’t have to come here. You didn’t need to do this.” I embrace her in my arms, and stroke her matted hair.
“I’m so sorry,” she mutters.
“No, I’m sorry for not realizing you were here sooner.”
“They took our baby, and now they don’t talk to us?” She asks.
“Yes. He’s ten now. I asked for them to be more open. I thought they wanted to be more open. They told me that. But they never wanted a birthmother. They didn’t sign up for open adoption.”
I can feel her shaking beneath me. “But they did…”
“I know, I know.”
“I don’t know. I can’t tell you. I’m just as blind as you are when it comes to him. In my heart, I feel as though he’s struggling, but I truly have no idea.”
“Because they can. Because it’s easier for them. Because they never wanted us.”
Her cries could be heard for miles I’m sure.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here. We’ll do this together from now on. Let’s just rest, and I’ll carry you out in awhile.”
She nods, and places her head on my chest.
“I miss him. I love him more than I did then.” she softly weeps.
“Me too. We didn’t know it would be like this. We just didn’t know.”