An Interruption to Regularly Scheduled Programming
Introducing Family Vacation: An Adoptee's Journey Home
Author’s Note: This week's post is different from my normal articles. Writing about adoption trauma while navigating and healing from it myself has its ups and downs. Writing about it has been key to my own healing, but at times, it can be too much. This was one of those weeks. Rather than publish an article that is not my best work, I'm posting the introduction to my novel. In addition to writing articles on adoption, I'm also working on the first of a series of novels based on the true story of my own adoption. Family Vacation: An Adoptee's Journey Home tells the story of the fictional character Margo as she uncovers life-altering secrets and truths that she must reconcile, all while dealing with normal things that forty-somethings face. I hope you enjoy it.
Part Two of the series, Adoptees Speak, will return next week with a deeper look at how adoptees described adoption trauma and what we need for support in our healing journey.
Family Vacation: An Adoptee’s Journey Home
Margo's damp hands clenched the steering wheel as she waited to turn left into the golf ranch. Of course there would be traffic today, of all days, on University. She always worried that her tiny Ford Focus, or the Fetus as Jackson liked to call it, wouldn't make it up the unnecessarily steep drive to the course, but so far, it hadn't let her down. She drew a quick, deep breath while she waited, a fruitless attempt to release the tension that had relentlessly captivated her just moments before.
When Margo had gotten to the golf ranch the first time, Jackson had asked her to go back to EZ-Mart to buy some cigarettes. She didn't mind of course. But it meant that, despite her conscientious planning and early departure to ensure punctuality, she ran the risk of being late for their 1:40 tee time. She could feel her heart beating in her chest, like a ticking time bomb she was racing against.
Margo hated being late, but more than that, she utterly loathed others' frustrations or disappointments with her. Others' opinions of her as a person were relatively unimportant to her at this point in her life, at least compared to the weight they once bore on her. Perhaps the years devoted to therapy weren’t totally for naught. But letting someone down was a different story.
"Come on," she uttered to herself. Finally, after a good 20-second delay, Margo spotted an opening in traffic and whipped into the driveway, making sure to give it a little extra gas, just in case.
1:32 Margo made it with eight minutes to spare, but still not enough time to transition back to a relaxed state. She texted Jackson, "here," then decided to grab her purse and head to the clubhouse without waiting on him to come get her in the cart. He always insisted on picking her up at her car, but Margo didn't mind the walk. And she had already wasted enough time, as is.
Get it together, Margo. She hurried down the broken asphalt trail. It was supposed to be a fun day with her new man. Nothing to stress over. She breathed deep again, this time her chest lightening just a bit.
There were more golf carts and golfers than normal that day outside the clubhouse. But, she didn't spot Jackson.
"Margo!" She heard Steve's familiar voice from among the crowd. She was still slightly uncomfortable around his friends, but she was getting better.
"Hey Steve. Have you seen Jackson?"
"I think I saw him getting some pizza inside."
"Cool. I'll go check in there."
Margo opened the door to the clubhouse, and spotted Jackson immediately. They both smiled as their eyes met across the room.
"Hi sweetheart." Jackson leaned down to kiss her. "Do you want some pizza?"
Realizing she hadn't eaten anything since an early breakfast and was about to be on the course for 18 holes, a couple of slices of pizza didn't sound like a bad idea. "Sure."
"Cool. Well, get you a plate and I'll meet you out on the cart." Jackson grinned at her.
"Yes sir!" Margo teased, as she returned his warm smile. She grabbed a couple of slices of pizza, opened the back door of the club house, and searched the sea of golf carts for Jackson's bag.
Robin egg blue. That was the color her cousin Carol had always used to describe Margo’s eyes. They were a distinctive blue, crystal yet vibrant, light cornflower irises framed by a cobalt ring. She had been told by more than one person that they had never seen eyes like hers. But Margo had. And there that day, from a golf cart, sitting outside the club house, a set locked with hers.
She didn't make the connection when Jackson asked her to come to the ranch that day that there was a possibility for Elliott to be there. But, it was a Saturday after all, and Jackson had mentioned he was playing with him that morning. So it shouldn't have been a surprise. Yet, Margo hadn't had enough time to prepare for it, or as her friends would say, overthink it. What would she say? How was she supposed to act? Although stunned and frozen, she did manage a smile, and a warm one at that. Margo was still figuring out how to feel about Elliot, but it wasn’t bad.
She managed an automatic, "How are you?" Her go-to, a socially awkward introvert's ace-in-the-hole.
The surge of nerves she felt briefly paused, as Elliott smiled back. His smile was pristine, blazing white teeth sitting side by side in perfect rank and form against the backdrop of his worn smokers face, aged well beyond its 62 years. She couldn’t tell you what he said, but her mind registered his deep, raspy voice, unbefitting of his small stature. His unimpressionable words were oddly soothing, yet anxiety provoking. What should she say next? There isn’t exactly a handbook for these types of scenarios. There she stood, a blundering blonde buffoon, no clue what to do or say.
Her hand sensed the vague weight of the paper plate it held all along, the perfect exit strategy. Margo gestured to her pizza, smiled awkwardly once again, and turned around, frantically scanning the crowd until she spotted Jackson's cart. Solace at last.
The rest of Chapter 1 can be read at ruthiejackson.com/blog. If you’re on Instagram, you can follow my writing journey and get updates on my books by following me, @ruthiejackson.author.