Rae’s parents, who should have loved her the most, left her when she was only 10 years old. Her aunt and uncle took her in, and she got the love, support, and warmth she never knew she needed. Rae is now 22 years old and has built a life for herself. She is doing well in her promising job in IT. But when Rae’s estranged parents come back into her life because she is doing well, she has to deal with old wounds. She needs to figure out if some breaks are too deep to mend and if blood alone is enough to call someone “family” as they try to get a second chance.
When I was ten, my life changed.
The next minute, I was doing arithmetic homework at the kitchen table. My dad was waiting at the front door with the motor running while my mom packed stuff into a small pink suitcase.
My mom said, “Just for a little while, sweetheart,” trying to sound happy. “Don’t forget, we’re going to Grandma’s.” You enjoy spending time with her.
I nodded, even though I was confused. That’s what a lot of ten-year-olds do. At the time, I didn’t know that “a little while” would endure forever.
Ellie, my younger sister, was only five years old, but she was already wow people with her back handsprings and pointed toes. Her coach in gymnastics told her she was special. He said to my parents, “She’s a genius.” “She might be good enough for the Olympics.”
Those five words changed everything.
Ellie wasn’t a little girl in tights anymore. She became the most important person in our family all of a sudden. First came her tournaments, training sessions, and practices. She was always first.
What about me?
I wasn’t significant anymore.
My parents made it sound like a great sacrifice.
My dad said, “You’re older now, Rae,” and then he messed up my hair like that would help. “You’ve gotten older. We will come over all the time, and you will get to spend time with Grandma. “You’ll see!”
They didn’t show up. They didn’t show up in the first month. They didn’t show up the next month either. There were fewer calls, too. I stayed beside the phone until I turned eleven. Then, on a rainy afternoon, Grandma told me to sit down.
“Ellie is getting their attention,” she said, her voice calm but her eyes furious. “She has a good chance of getting something big,” they say. And they think it’s best that you stay with me.
Grandma did her best. But her knees hurt in the morning, her eyesight was becoming worse, and she hadn’t driven in years. Getting to school was an issue every day. Going to the supermarket was tiring. She couldn’t take it anymore, so she called after a few months.
Aunt Carol and Uncle Nate came in at that time.
They had never been able to conceive kids of their own. Aunt Carol sat down next to me as soon as I walked in and said, “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Uncle Nate made a joke about how the stork “misdelivered” me.
“Don’t worry,” he answered with a smile. “We called customer service and they fixed it.”
I didn’t laugh right away. But in the end, I did believe them.
Every night, Aunt Carol would braid my hair and talk to me about how to make it grow and how to get ready for bed. She sometimes dressed like us, took me to mother-daughter brunches, and clapped loudly at every school play, even when I only had two lines.
I asked Uncle Nate for help, and he gave me advise, told me funny stories, and took me out for ice cream after long days. He called me “little lightning” because I could swiftly fix anything, like the remote or my homework.
I stopped attempting to reach my parents when I was twelve.
It has been a while since they called. No birthday cards. No presents. They didn’t even write to me. They didn’t send me a $1 to help me pay my bills either. Nate and Carol provided me all I needed.
When I reached sixteen, they made it official. They let me in.
Aunt Carol had a supper outside with fairy lights and chocolate cupcakes. She even gave me a wriggly golden puppy with a ribbon around its neck as a gift.
“Now you’re officially ours,” she said as she helped me put on my party dress. “I’ve loved you since you were a baby, Rae.” But when you moved in with us, I realized I wasn’t meant to be a mother to anybody else. “Just you.”
That night, I cried in her arms.
They had really become my mom and dad. The kind that came. They stayed in my life.
By the time I arrived to college, I was doing really well. I fell in love with computers in high school. I loved coding, fixing problems, and building my own systems. Uncle Nate joked that he would hire me to fix his business printer before he phoned IT for help. He also labeled me a “tech witch.”
They funded for me to go to college. They cheered when I obtained my first job as an intern. When I graduated, Aunt Carol cried more than I did.
When I was twenty-two and working in IT, the past came back to me.
It all began with a text.
Hey Rae! We miss you and would love to talk to you again. Can we eat dinner soon? — Mom and Dad
I stared at it for a long time. I was going to get rid of it. I didn’t pay attention to it.
Then it was Christmas Eve.
Even though Grandma’s knees hurt and I was tired from work, we went to midnight mass every year. As we drew closer to the church entrance, I saw them.
My mom was standing outside in a cozy coat. Her makeup looked perfect even after midnight. When she saw me, her face lit up, and she ran over to me as if we had just talked.
“Raelyn!” She grinned. “It’s been too long!” “You look so grown up!”
I continued on going. Grandma kept walking, but I kept a steady and gentle pace.
I said, “Sorry,” in a calm voice. “Do I know you?”
My dad walked up behind her with a red face and a stiff body, as if he had bitten into a lemon.
He yelled, “What?” “That’s not the right tone.” We are your mom and dad!
I stopped and pretended to be pondering.
I said, “Oh, you must be Denise and Alan.” ” Fine. Ellie left me behind to go for the medals. I made a mistake.
Their faces looked like old paper. I stepped inside the chapel with Grandma, and everyone else was astonished.
There were two pews behind us. I could feel their eyes on the back of my neck the whole time. As we were leaving, they cornered me again.
“Do you really not know who we are?” My mom asked softly, as if the version of her I remembered had never been real.
I merely said, “It doesn’t matter.”
They somehow got my number and called later that week.
“Raelyn,” my mom remarked in a soft voice. “Since you’re doing so well now, don’t you think it’s time to help your family?” You know, do something kind for us in return for all the things we’ve done for you?
I laughed.
“Sorry, what did you do for me? You mean abandoning me on Grandma’s couch and not coming back?
“Stop being so dramatic,” she said in a severe voice. “We gave you space to grow!” “You wouldn’t be where you are now if we hadn’t given up some things.”
“Do you mean letting me go?” I stated it fiercely. “So Ellie could get better? So you wouldn’t have to worry about me while you were looking for gold medals?
My dad spoke out, and his voice was harsh.
“Family stays together.” Please remember that now. “You owe us.”
“I don’t owe you anything,” I told him. “People who reared me, Nate and Carol, are the only ones I owe. They were the ones that cared about me, not you.
And I hung up.
I might have felt really bad about it. I think I should have checked on Ellie.
But here’s the deal: she would have shut me off too. She never called. Do not text. In all these years, she never sent a text. I was the last sibling left. I was the one who was ignored.
I feel calm as I sit at Nate and Carol’s kitchen table and watch Uncle Nate try to flip pancakes without burning them.
There are Christmas presents, glasses of hot chocolate, and bits of wrapping paper all over the table. A Christmas song is playing on the radio, and Aunt Carol is humming along. My dog snores under the table. With a blanket over her lap, Grandma is resting in the recliner by the fire.
This is my family.
These people are not related to me by blood; they are people who have come into my life. They stayed strong.
The people who styled my hair. Who believed in me. Who named me “lightning” and “songbird”? Who never once made me feel like I was second best.
My biological parents can keep texting, calling, and pretending like they didn’t hurt me when I was ten.
But I’m not ten anymore.
Raelyn Harper is my name. People like me. I am whole. And I know who my real family is.