“Wait, so you live here, too?”
Judy laughed. “Of course. This isn’t just my restaurant. It’s also my home, which is why I take pride in making sure everyonewho passes through feels comfortable and welcome. But don't worry, I know how to keep to myself. You'll have plenty of peace and quiet.”
The notion of sharing a home with my employer was new to me, but not entirely disagreeable. The way Judy spoke made it feel less like a business arrangement and more like being welcomed into an extended family. I had been looking for a fresh start, and the promise of becoming part of this unique, seaside community was unexpectedly appealing.
“What about Rosie? Does she live here, too?”
“No. She’s got her own place, just across the street.”
“I see. She’s not from around here, is she?”
Judy chuckled. “No. She was born in Texas, but her family is originally from Mexico. They moved to Corpus Christi before she was born. She’s got quite the story, Rosie does, but I’ll let her tell it. Well, I should get back downstairs and give you time to get settled.”
“Thank you, Judy. You have no idea how much all of this means to me.”
Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “You’re more than welcome. We’re happy to have you here. The dinner rush starts around six. You’re welcome to join us downstairs if you’re up for it. Oh, and if you’re wondering about things to do, I’m afraid there isn’t much. But there’s a bar a few blocks up that has a good band. And there’s a movie theater that Rosie and I frequent on Roanoke Island, which is about a half hour from here. You’re more than welcome to tag along.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Judy gave me a final friendly nod before she walked away, leaving me to adjust to my new surroundings. The room was simple but homey. I went to my car and grabbed some of my belongings, then unpacked my suitcase, placing my clothes in the wooden dresser and setting a few personal items–a photograph of my mother, a well-worn novel, and a small potted plant—on the bedside table. The ocean breeze ruffled the curtains as I opened the window to let in the fresh air, and I took a deep breath. It smelled like home, not like Sims Chapel, but like a place where I belonged.
Falling back on the bed, I closed my eyes, letting the sound of the waves wash over me. Despite the odds, I had done it. I had survived the tumultuous journey that brought me here, and I was determined to make the most of this new beginning.
Present
With a long exhale, I called it a day. Despite my exhaustion, I had made it through the most difficult part of my journey. Now, all I wanted to do was rest.
Judy prepared a simple dinner of fish and chips, and Diane and I indulged in the hearty meal. Afterward, we retreated to the back lawn and started a fire, sitting in Adirondack chairs and sipping wine. Our conversation flowed easily, filled with stories and laughter, the warmth of companionship as welcoming as the crackling fire.
“Tell me,” Diane said, “about that departure. Why Kitty Hawk? Why not Wilmington or Edenton?”
The truth was, I didn’t have an answer that would make any sense. I had no family here, no old friends waiting for me. “Impulse,” I said, reflecting on the decisions I’d made during that drive, taking a right instead of a left, turning here when the road went there. “Nothing more.”
Diane was quiet a moment, staring up into the night sky. “It’s funny, isn’t it, how something as simple as going one direction instead of another can have such a profound impact on the course of our lives.”
“Yes, it is. But sometimes, that’s all we can do—choose a path and see where it leads us.”
As the night wore on and the alcohol did its job, Diane opened up more about her life in Charlotte.
“I was raised there,” she said as she stared into her wine glass. “But I wasn’t born there. At least, I don’t think I was. I was adopted, so I can’t be entirely certain.”
“Adopted? What was that experience like?”
“My parents, or rather, my adoptive parents, were wonderful people who provided me with every comfort that life could offer. A nice home, good education, and all the love a child could need. But there was always this void, this missing piece. When I asked about my birth parents, they would always avoid the topic, as if it was a deeply buried secret that could never see the light. I would inquire, and they would deflect. It became a dance we expertly performed over the years.” She paused, her eyes momentarily distant as she remembered. “They passed away when I was in my early twenties, leaving me with more questions than answers. I had hoped that they might leave me with some clue, a hint as to where I came from. But their wills contained nothing of the sort. I want to believe that they didn’t know either, that they, too, were kept in the dark about my origins, but…”
“But you think there’s more to the story, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she replied, her eyes gleaming with determination. “I do. I mean no disrespect to my adoptive parents, but I want to know where I came from and who my birthparents were. What did they look like? What did their voices sound like? What was the color of my mother’s eyes? I just need something—anything— to feel that connection.”
“Have you tried searching for them? There must be records of your adoption somewhere.”
Diane shook her head. “The records were sealed by the court. I’ve tried, trust me. Lawyers, private investigators… They’ve all looked into it, but no one has been able to tell me anything.”
I had experienced my share of pain, but Diane’s was a different kind of torment. She was in search of an identity that had been lulled to sleep, but never quite silenced.
“It’s difficult to walk through life without knowing who you come from, without having that sense of continuity and connection. But my adoptive parents did their best, and in their own way, they gave me a wonderful life.” After a long pause, she finished the last of her wine and said, “I think it’s time for me to turn in for the night. It’s late and we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” She rose from the chair and gave me a crooked smile.
There was something in that smile, in the way one side of her mouth curled slightly more than the other, that seemed oddly familiar. The quirk was small, almost insignificant, but it caught my attention, nonetheless.