Chapter 17
We celebrated our newfound freedom by taking a walk off the hotel property, alone. No chaperone, no lawyer, no driver, no guard. Just our Guardianship Papers tucked safely into my purse. We walked down the street to a little café we had been wanting to visit.
At this point we were getting used to being stared at. Adoption is not a usual thing in Uganda anyway, but there were terrible rumblings telling of rich, white Americans adopting Ugandan children in order to harvest organs once back in the United States. So, half the stares were curious and friendly. The other half of the stares were suspicious and angry.
The stares in the café were suspicious. It wasn’t terribly friendly, but we were too caught up in our excitement at this forward movement, this one step closer to home, that we just didn’t overly care.
Timos fell asleep on the table and when the waitress brought us our food, she seemed awfully shocked by a sleeping child. She rubbed his back and bent down to speak to him until he woke up and kept asking if he was okay. I remember being slightly appalled by her behavior; she was acting like we had drugged our child. A day earlier I would have had to cater to her worries and her atrocious behavior. Today I could dismiss her to her face.
I had felt like Timos’ mother since the day we decided to adopt. But NOW I was feeling the authority of being his mother in public and I intended to wield it, like I had with my other children. Like any mother does with her babies. I ordered some coffee so she would have to leave us, or risk being considered rude. She chose the Ugandan way and went to make my latte.
Bad waitress aside, I still remember that meal. I had ordered some steak tips and it was delicious. I remember how you had to wind through this beautiful walkway lined with hanging plants to get to the counter. I remember where we sat, next to an open window, toward the street side of the café. I remember the whoosh of traffic behind us, the calling of construction workers next door to their friends and co-workers, the sounds of the birds in the trees, the slight smell of exhaust, the amazing smell of brewing coffee, the feel of Timos’ tiny head under my hand as I stroked him in his sleep to comfort him, the warmth of Garen’s smile across the table from me, the feel of his fingers grasping my other hand. It was a perfect moment. The kind of moment that stays with you forever.
And such a different moment from the one we were about to experience at lunch the very next day.
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