Nearly Normal by Cea Sunrise Person

Author:Cea Sunrise Person
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Canada
Published: 2016-12-11T16:00:00+00:00

A few weeks after we visited Grace, I was reading in my bedroom when Mom came in and sat next to me on the bed.

“What’s wrong?” I asked when I saw her face.

“It’s Jessie, she just called. They . . . they took Grace away.”

“They—what? What do you mean?”

“I mean the authorities. The—I don’t know, whoever was in charge of Grace’s case. They were monitoring Jessie carefully, and they decided the baby had to be taken away.”

“But . . . why?”

Mom shrugged. “A baby is a lot of work. Jessie tried, but . . . I think she just wasn’t able to look after it.”

“Her,” I responded dully. “Look after her.” I met my mother’s eyes, already knowing the answer to the question I was about to ask. “Mom. Did Grandma Jeanne ever meet Grace? Did Papa Dick?”

“No. I mean . . . not that I know of.”

“So, no. Their first grandchild since I was born. And Jessie named her after Papa Dick’s sister. And how old is Grace now? About eight months?”

“Cea, you know how it is. Mom is—”

“Busy with her new boyfriend, yes. And Papa Dick is too busy living his wilderness dream to be bothered. Yes, I know how it is.” I snapped my book closed and brought my fingertips to my forehead. “You know what, Mom? They make me sick.”

Mom rose from the bed. “I don’t like hearing you talk like that, Cea. My parents are wonderful. They gave us everything we needed when we were growing up—love, acceptance—”

“Yes!” I said, jumping up beside her. “They gave that to you, but they can’t even be bothered to meet their own grandchild? There’s something not right about this family, Mom, but I guess I’m the only one who cares!”

Mom pursed her lips and shook her head, and then she left. I closed the door forcefully behind her and paced the room a few times. After I’d collected myself, I went to my bookshelf and took down the photo of Grace. I hadn’t really looked at it since Jessie gave it to me, which made me feel deeply ashamed. Really, was I any different from the rest of them? I tucked the picture into the corner of my mirror and stared at it. No. I was crying, and that alone was proof I was different. I knew what happened to kids who went into the foster system. I pictured her landing at someone’s home, someone who didn’t really care about her, and then getting slowly sucked into a black hole of misery. I cried because Grace would never know that she had a cousin somewhere in the world, a cousin who loved her. And I cried because I knew, without a doubt, that I would never see her again.

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