The phone rings once. I think to myself.
"Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap. It's her! What do I say? How do I answer? Chill. Just pick up the phone and answer. Wait. Don't appear to eager. Let it ring again."
The phone rings a second time. Again, I start with the thinking.
"Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap. Just pick it up! Give your salutations and start talking! Simple as that. Wait! I'm not ready. One more ring."
The phone rings a third time. I start to think, but then just say "screw it" and answer.
"Hello?"
"Hi. Jimmy? It's Marsha."
"Hi, Marsha."
Dead silence. Speak up, damn it! Well, she's not speaking either. Someone say something! What seemed like minutes was actually about 5 seconds of silence. Great. Nice way to start off. Then, as if on cue, we both just start cracking up laughing. I finally speak through the laughter.
"Well, that was almost awkward and ridiculous! I'm so glad you don't sound like an monkey on crack!"
Marsha laughs and questionably replies.
"Uh..what?"
I realize she may not be ready for my brand of humor and I quickly shut it down.
"Never mind."
We talk for a couple of hours. Just telling each other about our lives. And how screwed up it is that we are just meeting. But, how great it is that we finally are meeting! It felt like we had known each other our whole lives. Like we actually did grow up together. As I listened to Marsha tell me about her life, I hung on every word. Soaked in every detail. Not wanting to miss anything. Seeing as how I had missed the first 23 years of her life, I wanted the rest to be committed to memory. We ended the conversation with excitement and hope and the realization that our lives had just changed. Dramatically. She was nervous, because she still hadn't told her mother about my emails or the call. She wanted to wait a few days to gather the right words.
Over the next couple of days, we talked again and emailed again. I assured her that there was no question in my mind that she was my sister. And she really felt like there was no doubt that I was her big brother. Still, she had to run it by her mother. That day came. I anxiously and precariously awaited her call or email to hear the results.
I was a quite dismayed by what my eyes read. My heart broke in pieces. Here, I thought I had found my baby sister. That missing link in my life. There was no question that we shared DNA. However, her email went something like this.
"Dear Jimmy
I am so confused and upset and bewildered! I talked, well it was more like yelled, with my mother and she said that it wasn't true. You aren't my brother. Marcial isn't my father. It was not a pretty conversation and we both left it tearful and disconcerted. I suspected my mother was just covering up and I demanded that she tell me the truth. She maintained that we were not related. I am sorry, Jimmy. I don't know what to think. If you aren't my brother, then at least I think I made a good friend. I feel like you are, but I don't know what to think any more. I need to figure some stuff out and we'll talk soon.
Marsha"
I used to be a big cry baby. For years. Then I realized that it was stupid and unnecessary. So, I kind of stopped doing it. I have to admit that I openly wept upon reading this. I knew, just knew she was my sister. Why would her mother not tell her? And, was my father wrong? In his old age and thick accent, did he become confused? Now, I was second guessing. Through,the tears, I did my best to gather myself and replied.
"Marsha
I don't know what is going on. But, I do know one thing. YOU ARE MY SISTER! I just know it. I feel it. I felt it the first time we spoke on the phone. I think you did too. If for some weird cosmic reason, we have been fooled, then I apologize for creating all of this. If not, and we are...well, then...we are. Please don't give up. I know I won't. We will figure this out. Trust in that.
Jimmy"
I hit "send" and awaited a response. A response I feared would never come.
...to be continued.
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