Bring Me Closer

Closer: Part 4

CHAPTER EIGHT

I awake the next morning with a plan. I skip out of Mike's room quietly and grab my laptop. I immediately fire up the internet in search for some information on my mother. I type "Camille McAllister into the search engine and the results come rushing in. Psycho Mother Drives Kids off Bridge in New York. It was all over the news. Oh my God. There's me. a picture of me in the hospital bed. My face is wrapped in bandages. I'm red and purple all over. The image almost makes me cry. There's a picture of her, my mother. She's black. She looks just like me. She has caramel skin. Big round eye's, just like mine. There are newspaper articles about her:

A pregnant Camille McAllister has been released on bail for assault and battery of her estranged husband and ex-pimp Henry Latson. Latson fled the scene and McAllister was arrested on the spot. The police still search for Latson.

I research Henry Latson. Looks like he was a notorious drug dealer in Brooklyn. He's white with dirty reddish blonde hair. He was arrested for attempted murder in 1998. He's been sentenced to 14 years. He gets out sometime this year? The year's almost over. But murder? My birth parents were attempted murders? Great. Where is he? Rikers Island. Bingo.

It's about an hours drive. When I get there, I park the car and walk in, it's dark. Security is heavy, obviously. I'm not exactly sure how it all works, but I figure it out when I'm searched intensely. This is uncomfortable. I mean, do I even want to do this? Will he know who I am? Will he want to see me? I hope he won't be mad that I showed up. Oh my God, what if he got transferred to a different facility? I almost turn around for the exit, but then I stop myself. I take a deep breath and continue to the front desk.
When I tell them who I'm visiting, the guards laugh, asking "What's he to you?" I'm not even sure how to answer that, so I don't.
I'm told to sit and wait for him to come out. I don't know what to expect. I'm not scared, I'm just confused, mostly. Is this a bad idea?
A tall man bound in chains walks toward my table. Much hairier than his picture. It's the man from the picture. He sit's down across from me and stares at me for a minute before either of us speak.
"So what can I do you for?" He speaks. His voice deep and sarcastic.
"Uh, h --how are you?" I ask, making small talk. He stares without answering. "Did you know Camille McAllister?" I cut to the chase.
He squints at me like I do out of habit. Oh my God. I finally realize I'm looking in a mirror once again.
"Depends, what's it to you?" He asks, looking around.
"She was my mother." I blurt out. I stares at me harder, different now. A hint of a smile breaks through his pouty lips. "Charlie, Charlie, is that you?" He asks.
I don't know what to say. I nod vigorously and I begin to cry. He walks over and hugs me. "I can't believe it, I, I can't believe it." He says. "Where's your sister? Do you know what happened to her, do you even know about her? Oh my God, you do know you have a sister, right?" He rambles, just like I do when I'm nervous. I chuckle wiping the tears from my eyes.
"Yes, I do. Camille's good friend at the time, Laurie, my mom adopted us." My hands are clenched underneath the table.
"Oh wow, how is she? How is Cameron?" He asks.
"She's good." I look down into my lap. "You know, I lost my memory in that crash. I didn't find out until yesterday who Camille was, and that she died and that my sister and I almost died." I fight the tears. "Laurie never told us, anything. It's like I've been living a lie." I blurt out.
Henry shakes his head. "Now Charlie, don't say that. I'm sure Laurie was trying to protect you. Give you and Cameron the life you deserved. You can't let your past define you." He says all too loosely. You've been in jail for 14 years, your past defines you. What else can you think about in this place besides your past?
"I just can't believe my real mom tried to get rid of us. After all this searching, to find out that's what happened. I kind of wish I'd never asked. But then I wouldn't have met you." He squints at me.
"Charlie, I know things look bad. I'm in here and I wasn't able to support you as a father and it's almost too late. But there are no fairy tales. When Camille first became pregnant with you, we were both unsure who the father was. I was young and I mistreated her. We didn't meet on the best terms either. But, I grew to love her, but I wasn't the best at showing it. I did some things and made some choices that I wish I hadn't, obviously." He laughs. "But it's those mistakes that make us stronger. I can't live in the past, and neither can you." He smiles.
"And I won't. I just don't feel like I know who I am anymore. I can't blame Camille so I blame Laurie, she lied to me." I slouch as I feel my phone vibrating. I ignore it.
"Charlie I've been blaming people all my life. Does it look like it helped?" He holds his arms out. "It doesn't matter who's fault it was or is, it's about taking the next step toward a better and brighter future." Wow, who would've thought I'd be getting life counselling from my inmate father. "But you have every right to be angry with Laurie, but don't hold it against her forever. It will take time to get over it, and you will." I smile and nod looking into my lap again.
"So, you're getting out pretty soon," I mumble.
"I am, Christmas Eve." He smiles. Well, Merry Christmas then.
"That's great, really. Do you know what you're going to do? Where you're going to live?" I ask. He shakes his head. "I don't, but I do know that I want my daughters in my life. I may not deserve anything, but you two would be the best Christmas present I could ever wish for." Wow, this man is sweet. It's unreal knowing that he wasn't always. I'm glad I know him.
"You got it." I smile standing up. "Well, I've got to go. My friends are probably wondering where I am, so I should go." I walk over to him and hug him again.
"I'll see you Christmas Eve." He smiles as I walk out.
"It's a date." I call back. "Oh, and Henry,"
"Yes?" He answers.
"You might want to do a little trim." I point to my chin. He laughs. "Will do."