“Tell me what?”
“I’m adopted,” Rory says. “It’s the rest of the scar story I promised I’d tell you one day.”
“Oh,” I say. “Wow. I mean, um. I don’t know what to say.”
“No need to say anything, dear,” Lisa says. “We know he is our son, and so does he. There’s no difference if I carried him or if I didn’t. Rory Dennis is mine and Tom’s.”
Rory takes his mom’s hand in his, making me smile.
“I’m confused,” I say. “What does that have to do with the scar?”
“When my biological mother learned I had a heart defect and would need open-heart surgery as soon as I was born, she gave up her rights to me.”
“The poor thing was very young, and a sick baby was more than she could handle.” It’s nice to see Lisa doesn’t seem to carry any resentment toward Rory’s biological mother.
“At the time, we had been praying for a miracle,” Lisa continues. “When we got the news about him and that he had a heart condition, well that hurt as if he were ours. Because he was ours.”
Tom listens to his wife tell the story with a small smile, letting her do all the talking.
“Is that why you wanted to be a doctor, because of your heart?” I ask Rory.
He nods, and I imagine a teenage Rory, feeling rejected by his biological mother and wanting to be a doctor so no other child would have to go through the same thing.
“Why oncology, then?”
“The plan was pediatric cardiology, but then I came to Heartland Metro and met Dr. Ramirez.”
“Ah,” I say, understanding. “She inspired you.”
“Yeah. You could say that. I’ve had many passionate teachers before, but to her, fighting cancer is like a personal battle. She recruits physicians into oncology like she is drafting for war. She’s a force to be reckoned with.”
“No need to explain further,” I say. “You never stood a chance.”
Lisa and Tom both laugh like they already know everything Rory is saying and all about Dr. Ramirez. Does he talk to them about everything? I wonder what that’s like. To have parents you can speak with and who listen—parents who support your dreams, even when they change. Rory may be adopted, but his parents are closer to him than my biological ones ever will be to me.
Lisa stands, inviting herself to my kitchen. She opens the fridge door, and meeting with scarce options, declares it won’t do. In a blur, and before I can stop her, she goes into my room and comes out with a dirty clothes bin. “I’ll take care of these for you, dear,” she says.
I’m about to protest, but she glares at me with a look I don’t dare confront.
“It’s best if you just let it happen,” Tom says and winks at me.
“Tom, would you drive me to the grocery store? I want to fill the fridge and—” Lisa starts to say.
“It’s really not necessary. My friend Chema is staying with me. He’s helping.”
When I mention Chema, the corner of Rory’s eyes tighten a bit.
“I don’t see him anywhere,” says Lisa.
“He’s napping,” I say.
“Good. While he naps, I’ll get the laundry going and go get some things so I can make some soup.”
“Mom’s chicken noodle soup is magic,” Rory says.
“Uh . . . Thanks. For everything,” I say.
“You betcha, dear,” says Lisa with a smile.