I thought it was a long shot at best. That if she lived here she would be hard to find.
I was wrong. Very wrong. Local celebrity. Loved. Admired.
My father loved her too. She was his pride and joy. The one I grew up hearing I could never measure up to.
I thought she would be more like the Bitch. Nothing about her is like the Bitch and that threw me off.
She smiled and I automatically smiled back. I felt wanted in her presence. Just standing near her was soothing. Safe. Calm. How does she do it?
She had me convinced I was talking to the wrong person. She wasn't the one I had expected to find. Nothing gave her away. No signs of recognition to anything I said. A humble, helpful attitude.
Just a random stranger with the same name.
I had to be sure. There was one foolproof way of finding out.
Pity in her voice. Concern. A warning.
Like dancing with a dream creature. Like trying to catch smoke.
Woke up with a headache and knowing I had found her.
Too kindhearted. That was her flaw. Father always cursed her for it. Wished she hadn't been. But she is, and I was certain now.
I thought the concern I heard had been for herself. That me being here had her worried.
I was wrong about that too.
Saw her again, watched her, listened to her talk to someone she had just met. Friendly. Welcoming. Happy.
She knew I was there. That I could hear her every word. It didn't faze her.
I got a glimpse of her life. Heard the warmth in her voice.
The concern had been for me. I was a stranger to her, and she wanted to help me. Keep me from making mistakes and getting hurt.
I want to believe that it is a clever act. I don't think it is. But I want it to be. She was easier to hate before I met her. Before I saw why my father loved her.
With every inch of me, I want to hate her. But I can't.
I'm in awe of her.
