The Visit

I couldn't meet her gaze. The receiver felt heavy in my hand, but I kept it pressed firmly to my ear. I shouldn't have agreed to the meeting, should have thought better. I walked away twenty years ago, before she was born. I was selfish, I know, but I had no choice. My life was messed up then. Still is. I didn't want the responsibility of having her in it.

Yet here she was, looking as beautiful as her mother did all those years ago. She had the same steadfast nature, an unmistakable boldness. But she couldn't conceal the reluctance in her face. Perhaps she saw the same in mine.

"Maybe this was a mistake," she said softly into her receiver.

I almost believed her. "Maybe."

She shook her head. "It's been tough since Mom died three years ago. I've felt so alone. But Mom...she feared what would happen if I met you."

I didn't say anything. Of course, I knew what her mother meant. It's one thing to have a father who didn't want to have anything to do with raising his own daughter because the trappings of youth were more important to him. Add incarceration to the mix, it certainly didn't look pretty. Who in their right mind, blood relation or no, would want to have anything to do with such a man?

"But," my daughter said, placing a hand on the window, "you're all I've got." Tears streamed down her face. "I'll never understand why you gave up on me before. I'm just hoping that now you would choose to have me in your life."

My own tears fell. I placed my hand on the glass to meet hers as I fought through the lump in my throat. "I...I'd like that very much."


Written for 01/19/08 Daily Flash Fiction Challenge
Prompt: Write a story about meeting a close relative you have never seen before
Word Count: 298