I stood there staring at my biological daughter, while she stared back at me with an air of uncertainty.
“Hello?” She said in an unsure tone; no doubt caused by me…a stranger at her door.
She stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her as if she were afraid that I would try to rush into her home.
“Hi there, may I help you?” She said after I still had not responded.
I took the time to look at my daughter… really look at her.
Her damaged eye was covered in a light colored eye patch, but she seemed to carry herself with confidence; as if her disfigurement didn’t matter. She looked even more like I did at her age in person than she did in the picture. We had the exact same lips. She was pretty… not flawlessly beautiful like Carmina, but very, very pretty.
“Do you have the wrong house?” She asked.
I knew that I was quickly crossing the line into being creepy. I had to figure out what to say to her. I wanted to tell Christina that I was her mother… that I was here to protect her; make sure she was safe. “I, um…” I began, but nothing else would come out.
I turned away from her; realizing that I couldn’t do it.
“Are you lost?” She asked; her voice so compassionate that it almost brought tears to my eyes. Anybody else would have been ready to call the cops on me if I were standing on their porch; barely able to speak.
“I’m sorry,” I said slowly; although I wasn’t saying it for the reason she probably thought I was. I was apologizing for everything that I had done to her. “I have the wrong house,” I said, not able to turn to her and lie to her face.
When I finally faced her again, I was once again tempted to tell her everything. I wanted to tell her that I had always loved her and that leaving her was the biggest mistake of my life. I wanted to tell her about her father…about how great he was and how much he would have adored her.
But when I looked at her clothing; which indicated that she was probably a college student and my eyes caught sight of the ring she was wearing on her left hand… a ring that looked a lot like an engagement ring…
I couldn’t do it. She had a future and there was no way that I was going to disrupt her life. The nurse who adopted Christina had been a good mother to her. Who was I to step in and potentially break down everything that she had done in raising my child in a way that I wasn’t woman enough to do?
“Sorry,” I said once again as I stepped down from the porch. My daughter was an innocent victim… I would have to deal with Carmina on my own.
But it hurt me to leave that day. Each step that I took away from her reminded me of the day that I had abandoned her 20 years ago.
Still… I wondered if she had any idea of who I was. Once again, I was left wondering if she felt the connection…the pull at her heart that I felt? For a moment, I desperately wanted her to.
Feeling that I was being selfish, I hastened my pace. She didn’t need to know who I was; knowing would only bring her pain. She stood on the porch and watched me for a few moments as I hurried away.
Finally, to my relief, she turned and reentered the house.
Just as she was closing the door, I stopped walking.
I had found my daughter, but I still hadn’t solved my problem.
I wasn’t the only one who knew where Christina lived. Carmina also knew and I realized that she wouldn’t stop threatening her… especially knowing that it was another means of hurting me.
I stood there for a long time… until it began to pour down raining around me.
As if the rain was sent to clear away my cloudy thoughts… I suddenly knew what I had to do.
The only way I would be able to keep my daughter safe would be to stop Carmina for good.
I would have to fix what I had created.
I walked all the way home with that thought in my head. By the time I was standing in our front yard, I had completely talked myself into my plan of action… the only option.
But, although the what of my mission was clear…
It was the howand when that I now struggled with. Instead of entering the house I sunk down on the porch steps feeling overwhelmed.
With my head in my hands, I tried to think of different scenarios and possibilities. I sat there in that same spot for hours getting soaked by the rain…
I sat there and began to make murder plans.
