Searching

My jaw dropped as I read the text typed out across my computer screen. I read it again and again to be sure I wasn’t just imagining what I saw. It wouldn’t have been the first time. I hurriedly called over Haley, my twin sister to read the statement as well.

         “What’s all the yelling about?” She sounded annoyed. I watched her eyes slowly pop out of her sockets and her smile grow wider as her read aloud, “Match Found: Katherine Calkins.” A single tear of complete joy rolled down her cheek as she smiled down at me. We had found our mother.

         I quickly clicked on the link below the text that brought me to a page of personal information. I silently prayed, being thankful for modern technology. An old picture resided beside her name. It was definitely Mom.

         I leaped up from my chair and embraced Haley. We jumped in the air, arms still locked in a hug, screaming at the top of our lungs. We had spent twenty of our twenty-five years frantically searching for our mother. It was a miracle.

         After collecting ourselves, we neatly sat ourselves in the big, comfy swivel chair in front of the computer. I scribbled down the personal information, crying and laughing the entire time. A mixture of emotions swirled around inside of me. A feeling of elation overwhelmed me, but at the same time I felt extremely worried. We had found Mom several times before. As close as we got, she always found a way to escape.

         The idea that my mown mother would run from me killed me inside. I blew by the phone and fax numbers the computer provided. I went straight to a street address. I refused to let her slip from my reach this time. I didn’t care about her police record. As awful as it sounded, it didn’t matter what she did to Dad. It was all in the past. I just wanted to be with her.

         My old printer beeped and released a fuzzy, but legible page. I folded it in quarters and hugged it to my chest. For the first time in my life, I felt lucky. Haley and I tried to sleep that night, but the excitement made it impossible. Sometime around two o’clock we gave up trying to sleep, altogether.  The two of us dressed in record time and darted to Haley’s ’94 Buick. She stepped on the gas and we sped our way to the train station.

         As I sat between Haley and an obnoxious businessman with a phone device that doesn’t require hands, the excitement began to wear off. What was I thinking all this time? Mom wouldn’t want to see us. She had killed Dad. She thought we hated her. A few years ago, she told me by phone that she feared I would turn her into the police. I wrapped my arms around my shoulders and hoped that everything would turn out all right.

         I moved in a daze as Haley guided me off the train and hailed a taxi to bring us to Mom’s house. I knocked on the door, sweating and shaking with nerves. As I heard her footsteps approach the door, I stiffened, but stood up straighter, trying to maintain my dignity. She opened the door.

         “Hi Mom, It’s us.” Haley choked out.

         I saw her surprised and disgusted look as she slammed the door. Haley held me as I cried.