Too Far 05 - Simple Perfection

father and he had barely been my adoptive father before he was killed. There was so much my mother had told me that couldn’t be true. She had said she was nursing me and led me to believe she had gotten depressed after my birth. But she hadn’t been pregnant. She hadn’t given birth to me. None of that was true. I didn’t know what was true anymore.
    “What are you thinking?” Braden asked as she drove down the busy streets of Atlanta. Glenda was driving down with her family to Atlanta. We were meeting at a coffee shop that Braden knew about. I wasn’t sure I could eat a meal with this woman yet. I also wasn’t sure what to ask or say to her. There was so much I wanted to know but then so much I didn’t.
    “She doesn’t know about anything. I didn’t tell her. I found her but I didn’t feel like it was my story to share.”
    I wasn’t sure I would be telling her about my life either. “What if I don’t know what to say once I see her?”
    “Then don’t say anything. Do what you feel comfortable with. If today all you’re ready for is ‘hello,’ then that’s what we will do. When you want more we’ll make arrangements to meet with her again.”
    Braden always made everything sound so easy. This woman had put her family in a car and had driven down to Atlanta to meet me. I had to say more than hello . “You won’t go in with me?” I asked again. Braden had informed me that I had to do this on my own. It was my chance to prove to myself I was strong. That I was brave and that I didn’t need someone to hold my hand. Though right now I was thinking I needed someone to hold my hand. I was terrified.
    “Don’t do this to me. I want to go with you. I hate the idea of you going by yourself, but this is for you, Della. This is for you.”
    She was right. Braden was always right. I nodded. “I know. Thank you.”
    I watched as she pulled the car into a parking spot in front of a quaint little coffee shop. There were tables outside and inside. The crowd wasn’t big and I recognized the woman who had given birth to me from the photo Braden had shown me, sitting at the table in the courtyard to the left of the building. She had a cup of coffee in her hand and she was twirling it around nervously. This was scary for her, too, I guess. But she was brave. She was here alone.
    “There she is,” Braden said, pointing toward Glenda.
    “I see her,” I replied, and reached for the door handle.
    “You can do this.”
    I glanced back at Braden and smiled for the first time in weeks. “I know.”

    Her eyes locked with mine the moment I stepped out of the car. I watched as she stood and looked at me. I made my way over to her table, still unsure as to what I would say to this woman. She had given me life but she was a stranger.
    “Della,” she said as if needing to check and make sure it was me. We had the same hair, nose, and mouth. But her eyes were brown.
    “Yes,” I replied.
    She fidgeted with her hands a moment, then covered her mouth with one hand. “I’m sorry. I just . . . I don’t know . . .” She dropped her hand and gave me a wobbly smile. “I’ve thought about this day. I’ve thought about it so many times and now I’m actually standing here, looking at you.” She studied my face, taking in the features I already knew were hers. “You have Nile’s eyes. He’ll like that. He always loved his eyes,” she said with a smile. “They’re his best feature. I’m glad you got them.”
    I knew I should say something but I didn’t know what. I decided that it didn’t matter if she liked me or approved of me. I wasn’t here to gain her admiration. I wasn’t perfect. I was damaged but I was a survivor. I had that to be proud of.
    “I like my eyes,” I finally said.
    She let out a soft laugh. “They’re beautiful eyes. I was always jealous of Nile’s eyes. I used to tell him they were too pretty to be wasted on a boy.”
    It sounded as if she still kept in touch with my birth father. I wanted to know about that, too. “Should we sit down?” I asked, pulling out a chair.
    Glenda nodded and sat back down. Her coffee cup sat forgotten. “Your friend, Braden, she didn’t tell me much about you. She said that you should be the one to decide what I got to hear. I want to know it all, at least everything you feel comfortable telling me. What do you do? Are you in college?” She stopped and smiled at me. “Sorry, I’ll let you talk.”
    There was one thing I was sure of: Glenda