Imbolo Mbue - Behold the Dreamers

“But will your husband care that they’re gay? How does he feel about gays?”

“He’s not afraid of them.”

“Yes, but is he … never mind that. My bigger concern is not about them being gay. I think it’s wonderful that they’re gay, just like it’s wonderful that I’m not. What I care about is how this is all going to play out. Assuming you email the professor and meet and he tells you, sure, if you have to go back to Cameroon, my partner and I would love to adopt your boy. Assuming your son is happy with the arrangements, you kiss him goodbye at the airport and get on the plane, how do you think you’re going to feel the moment that plane gets in the air, knowing you might not see him for years?”

“I don’t know how I will feel … I will be worried for him, but … I don’t like to live my life thinking too much about how I’m going to feel. I just have to …”

Natasha leaned forward and pushed the box of tissues closer to Neni, who sniffled, but didn’t reach for a tissue.

“I know you came to see me,” the pastor said, “because you want me to validate you, tell you that you’re making a tough decision but it’s the right one. But I can’t do that … I really can’t, because I believe you will regret it. I don’t believe for a second that you’ll go through with it, knowing how much you love your son. But if you do … I’m sorry, Neni, but regret, especially when it comes to your child, it’s not something you want to live with.”

“I will not regret it,” Neni said. “I will not regret leaving him behind so he can become a citizen, grow up and be—”

“Are you even certain he can become a citizen if they adopt him?”

“I Googled it, and it says American citizens can adopt an illegal child and file for green card for him, and after a few years the child can become a citizen.”

“I’ve never heard of that. I would consult an adoption lawyer first, especially since the couple you have in mind is gay and there’s DOMA to worry about.”

“But I cannot take money to pay for a lawyer without telling my husband first!” Neni said, throwing her hands in the air. “And if I try to talk to him about this … I cannot even say anything to him these days without him …”

“Don’t worry about the money for now — I could always get you a free consultation somewhere or talk to the church board about helping you guys pay for a lawyer.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Natasha! From the bottom of my heart, I thank you so much!”

“But before we go ahead and start spending money on lawyers,” Natasha said, “I’ll ask you to please spend more time thinking—”

“Thinking about what?”

“Think about if this really is the best solution. Spend some more time—”

“I don’t have more time!” Neni cried. “My husband is ready to go back home right now, and I don’t know what else to do! I’m so angry at him, I cannot eat, I cannot sleep …”

“But there has to be another way to get your family out of this situation.”

“There are other ways but my husband says no!” Neni cried again, pulling tissues from the box and bawling into them. “He wants what he wants and I cannot do anything about it!”

Natasha leaned back in her seat and for almost a minute she said nothing, looking on as Neni finished her cry, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose. When Neni was done, Natasha stood up, picked up Neni’s used tissues from the floor, and brought her a new box of tissues.

“Oh, Natasha, what am I going to do?” Neni said as Natasha retook her seat. “Sometimes I feel as if I am in a movie about a crazy African woman.”

“We just have to trust God that the movie will have a happy ending, don’t we? And Neni and her family lived happily ever after!”

Neni burst out laughing, then she was crying, then she was laughing and crying all at once. Natasha watched as she went through the full range, dried her eyes, and then laughed again and cried again, unable to believe this was where life had dumped her.

“I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you, but you have to look at the things you’re willing to do. You’re willing to divorce your husband and marry a man you barely know. You’re willing to give up your child for adoption knowing you might not see him for many years.” Natasha paused, looking at Neni intently. “I think you ought to step back a little bit, ask yourself why you’re—”

“I have to do what I need to do.”

“I’m not disagreeing.”

“I don’t like how people say to a woman, oh you want so many things, why do you want so many things? When I was young my father said to me, one day you’re going to learn that you’re a woman and you should not want too many things; like I should just be happy with my life even if it’s not the kind of life I want.”

“Mmm-mmm,” Natasha said, shaking her head.

“I’m not ashamed of wanting many things in life. Tomorrow when my daughter grows up I will tell her to want whatever she wants, the same thing I will tell my son.”

Someone knocked on Natasha’s office door and said her next appointment had arrived. Natasha said she’d be ready in five minutes. She stood up, came around the coffee table, sat down next to Neni, and took her hands. “I will support you,” she said. “Whatever you decide to do, you will have my full support.”

Neni nodded, and bowed her head.

“You don’t have to ever worry about me judging you.”

For a moment Neni sat in silence, her head still bowed. “A lot of mothers where I come from,” she said softly, raising her head, “they send their children to live with other people. They want them to be raised by relatives who have more money.”

“Hmm.”

“Sometimes these mothers and fathers are poor and other times they are married and living together and have enough to feed their children, but they want their children to grow up in the house of rich people.”

“Does this usually work out well?”

“The relatives treat the children well sometimes; other times they treat them badly, but the mothers let their children remain there. I did not understand why.” She took a deep breath and leaned back on the couch, her hands crossed over her belly, her eyes on the floor.

“What are you thinking?” Natasha asked her.

“Maybe I’m becoming another person.”

“Mmm-hmm. And what do you think of this new person you’re becoming?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let me put this another way: Are you happy with who you’re becoming?”

Neni’s eyes welled up with tears, but she didn’t cry. She looked toward the window and blinked back her tears.

GONE WERE THE MOMENTS OF TENDER EMBRACES IN THE KITCHEN, MINUTES of stolen passion in the bathroom while the children slept. They were now in two separate universes, each certain of his or her rightness and the other’s senselessness. Unwilling to fully embrace the new person she was becoming — it seemed so futile, considering the final decision wasn’t hers to make — she could do nothing but engage in fraught conversations about their future, which ended in accusations from her and rage from him. We’re going back home, he would say, and that is the end of that. How can you do this to us? she would screech. How can you be so selfish? If she spoke while he was eating, he would push away his food and jump into a rant about how she had been sold the stupid nonsense about America being the greatest country in the world. Guess what, he would say to her in mock instruction, America is not all that; this country is full of lies and people who like to hear lies. If you want to know the truth I’ll tell you the truth: This country no longer has room for people like us. Anyone who has no sense can believe the lies and stay here forever, hoping that things will get better for them one day and they will be happy. As for me, I won’t live my life in the hope that someday I will magically become happy. I refuse to!