Story of a Girl

Decisions

My whole body froze. Literally, froze. Chills were sent down my spine and I rubbed my arms to keep warm. I didn’t know what to do or say. Should I run out screaming? Should I weep into his chest and say how happy I am to have found him?

I was focusing more on the first choice. I knew nothing about this man. He could just be making this up and all he wants from me is to please him in more ways than one. I shuddered at the thought and looked back at my “Uncle”. He didn’t look like he wanted to harm me or that he was lying. But isn’t that what those guys do best? They act all nice and tell kids they have candy so they can jump in their van and drive away?

But the thing is; I’m at a police station. And this guy’s a cop. So why would he do something like that? I don’t think he would. Then again, it wouldn’t look the least bit suspicious if he escorted me himself out of here. But it would look suspicious if we never came back. I shuddered at the thought and looked back at him.

“Prove it.” I demanded my voice cold.

He sighed and leaned forward, picking up one of the framed pictures on his desk. “I thought you would ask for that.” He said, handing me the picture.

My shaking hands took it from him, my eyes scanning the picture. It was a picture of a little girl with already black hair, no more than two, curled up to a little boy, with shaggy brown hair slightly older than the girl, a giant quilt cradling them. They were both asleep, mouths open slightly.  I knew who this was a picture of because I remember this day. I just didn’t want to admit it.

“Your father sent that to me.” Scooter said from his chair.

My vision started to become blurry but I blinked them away. “If you’re my uncle, why haven’t we met before?”

He scratched his cheek. “We did. When you were first born though. After that, I moved out of New York and went to Nashville to get away from the hustle and bustle for a while. Hence, the slight country accent I have now,” he chuckled, “but I began to miss it here so I came back.”

I stayed silent, still not believing him that much.

He sighed, “Remember that pink tricycle you got for Christmas when you were three? And Toby got a matching blue one?” I nodded, and he held his arms open before laying them back on his legs, instigating that he was the one that had given them to us.

“I loved that bike.” I mumbled.

“I know, you’re dad told me.” he smiled slightly. I vaguely remember dad talking about his brother and I guess he was the one sitting in front of me now. But for all I know, he could’ve had more brothers.

“Was it just you and dad?” I questioned warily.

“Always have been, always will be.” He said proudly.

I sunk into the chair I once occupied, clutching the picture to my chest. If this guy was who he says he was, and I think he was telling the truth because I could just feel it in my gut that he was, then my parents were still out there somewhere. Maybe even mourning the loss of their daughter that they never got to see grow up. And Toby. Did they even know what happened to him?

“Do they know about Toby?” I whispered.

He scratched his mustache, hesitating. “Yes.”

“And?” I pressed.

“Oh, upset they were, no doubt about that.” He sighed.

“Are they coming to the funeral?”

He scrunched his eyebrows together. “That, I’m not so sure about.”

“Are they even still in New York?” I threw my hands up in exasperation.