A Long Time Coming

The minutes bled by like years as Cierra spent most of the night unable to coax herself to sleep. The night was restless in a foreign, albeit welcome manner, nothing like the countless ones she'd spent crying herself to sleep, wishing to be roused from the horrid nightmare that was her life.

She glanced at the clock on her dresser – 1st January 2020, 3:52am. The new decade was just hours old, and she was already dreaming of a new beginning of untold proportions. She had but one resolution for the longest time, but each passing year had only ended in disappointment and anguish.

Not this year, though. The seedling of hope had finally flourished, and she couldn't wait to get started. Sure, she had suffered her fair share of setbacks, but this time would be different – she could feel it in her bones.

The jitters that permeated her entire being forced Cierra to leave the warmth of her bed, the need to do something leaving her on edge. She stared at the manila envelope on her desk, still not quite able to believe that her missing puzzle piece laid in that innocuous package. Therein laid the way forward for her, and it was impossible to suppress her quiet optimism despite having no guarantee that things would work out the way she hoped.

From the moment she received that fateful call, all traces of lethargy had been eviscerated by the incredible news. The registry had been her last hope, a shot in the dark in her attorney's words, but fate had finally dealt her a good hand.

At long last, Cierra had found her birth mother. She'd survived her heart being crushed by all those doomed new year resolutions, finally catching sight of the light at the end of the tunnel.

Her hands shook with an undercurrent of apprehension as she inched towards the envelope, dying to unveil its contents yet somehow afraid of what laid beneath. But what did she have to lose? At worst, she'd be back to square one, stuck in the same conundrum. At best? She'd play the lead role in the reunion of the millennium.

That a stranger could have such a commanding presence in her mind felt foreign yet heartfelt, her mother's true identity igniting warring factions of apprehension and curiosity. This was the woman who had, at the time of the adoption at least, chose to cut her out of her life from the get-go, and effectively blocked off any means of reconciliation with a closed adoption. Cierra's mind began playing devil's advocate once more, stirring up doubt that her biological mother even wanted to be found. What if the registry had gotten it wrong? What if she'd developed second thoughts about reuniting?

I can't possibly throw it all away now, not after everything I've withstood to reach here, Cierra forced herself to think on the bright side. Her lifelong dream of putting a face to the mother she knew nothing about was within reach, and she resolved to stay the course.

Reaching for the envelope, she ripped off the sealed end without holding back. If she relented with even the slightest hesitation, she knew she'd only end up mired in indecision. She read every word in the folder within intensely, not wanting to omit a single detail.

Diane Howell. The name lingered like a sweet aftertaste as she said it aloud. Tears inexplicably flowed in rivulets as each word lifted her spirit to euphoric heights. Wave upon wave of headiness swept over her, chipping away at the obstacle of her existential crisis.

Within five minutes, Cierra already knew more about Diane than she had over her thirty years in the wilderness. Her mother was a tad shy of fifty, and although her dossier didn't include a photograph, Cierra couldn't resist trying to picture Diane's features. Did they share the same strawberry blonde hair and emerald eyes? Was she just as petite?

She had to meet Diane, especially after she noticed the all-important contact information on the last page, and she dialled her mother's number as soon as the day broke. She let the tone at the other end ring for as long as she could, brimming with curiosity at hearing Diane's voice over the phone, but no one picked up the call. Refusing to cave in, she dialled again to no avail. Bummer.

There was still one last resort - showing up uninvited at Diane's residence, since she had the address that her mother had consented to release. What could possibly go wrong?

The ride to Diane’s home took almost forty-five minutes from her apartment, Cierra's Uber starting and stopping intermittently with peak hour traffic in New York filled with bottlenecks. It was a bitterly cold day with snowfall buffeting large parts of Albany, and she made sure to keep herself toasty with a thick wool jacket on the way out.

As the driver exited the freeway towards a quieter part of town which she hadn’t been before, the houses visibly diminished in size with each passing street, the upkeep increasingly dismal. It would've been naive to expect the affluence of West Village, but she had held out hope that her mother's life had been comfortable. From what she'd seen of the vicinity, she was having a hard time calling it liveable.

Cierra's mind churned a thousand permutations about the kind of woman Diane would turn out to be, given that the hamlet Diane lived in probably hovered near the purlieu of the poverty line. How would her life have turned out, had her mother backed out of adoption proceedings? It felt like jumping the gun, but life on the other side of the coin seemed a tough dream to spin. The problems to contend with would have been vastly different. Instead of coping with the media tornado perpetually surrounding her adoptive parents and their fêted careers, she would have been agonising over bread-and-butter issues, struggling to make ends meet. Much as she hated the limelight, the grass was certainly not greener on the other side.

“Do you mind not doing that? It’s incredibly distracting,” the driver’s brusque voice cut through her thoughts like a hot knife through butter. It was only then that she noticed her subconscious habit of incessantly drumming her fingers when in deep thought, the door handle the victim this time.

“Oh, sorry. A lot on my mind lately.”

A lot that you clearly don’t give a damn about, she grumbled internally as he shifted his gaze back to the road with a curt shake of the head.

When the taxi finally arrived came to a halt at her destination, the driver was just as eager to be rid of her as he returned her the change without so much as exchanging glances.

Cierra stood just outside Diane’s residence, taking in the small house and its nondescript layout. It appeared in better condition than some of its neighbours, although the faded blue walls looked like a fresh coat of paint was in order. The beat-up silver Tacoma parked outside looked ripe for the scrapyard. A rickety old mailbox which looked like it hadn’t been used in years slanted out of the ground, the aperture slightly ajar. The front porch was in disarray, peppered with gardening tools and lifeless clay pots.

As Cierra navigated her way through the labyrinth of detritus out front, her attention was drawn to the half of the stairway leading to the front door that had been modified into a wooden ramp. Did her mother, or someone in her family, suffer from mobility issues? Standing mere inches from the front door, she exhaled deeply and knocked three times before she had the chance to change her mind.

Here goes nothing.

The muted voice of someone deeper inside the house sounded, followed by the shuffling of footsteps. Every fibre of her body tensed as the front door creaked opened slightly, pulling the jangling chain lock taut.

“Yes?”

She couldn’t get a clear view of the person answering the door but was sure it was a woman from the raspy voice that reeked of impatience.

“Hi, I’m looking for Diane Howell. Is she in?”

“That’s me. What do you want?”

Cierra heaved a sigh of relief at having found the right place. She could see a sliver of her mother’s face, her auburn hair streaked with grey and a hint of lassitude in her eyes. The urge to bash the door down grew stronger, but she fought her curiosity with clenched fists. Patience was the key; she didn't want to scare Diane off straight off the bat. Besides, the older woman's animosity was hard to ignore, her tetchy reply indicative of her guarded nature.

Cierra had her work cut out for her, but she resolved to press on.

“My name is Cierra Bowman, and I came to Albany in search of my biological mother. It was only after I checked in with the Adoption Information Registry that I found out about you, Diane." She paused, the words almost catching in her throat. "You're my … mother."

For a while, the older woman seemed taken aback as she retreated into the shadows of the dimly lit house, before lashing out with harsh words that stung Cierra's heart.

"That damn Jesse, I knew he was up to no good when he kept asking me those questions about the past. I've lived perfectly fine for so long without a daughter, and I sure as hell don't need one now. So, just go back to wherever you came from. This meeting never took place."

"No, the Registry told me that you'd consented to the release of your identifying information. That was what led me here in the first place. Please, just hear me ..."

"I said go away! Fuck off! Don't you get it? You're not wanted here!" Diane grew increasingly agitated as Cierra could hear her pounding her fist against the door, the chain lock reverberating with each thud. "Get the hell off my porch before I call the cops."

"Diane, please. Don't turn me away like this. I don't mean any harm …"

The door slammed shut before Cierra could react, but only to allow Diane to unhinge the chain lock. She finally had a clean look at her mother from head to toe, and was immediately certain of their relationship. Diane's hair, bearing the same shade of blonde as her own along with copious grey streaks, had been cut in a messy bob that ended just above her shoulders. Her eyes flashed a turbulent green, but it was more than anger that Diane harboured. Was it shame? Guilt?

Cierra had no time to react as Diane, a few inches shorter than her, reached over and roughly shoved her to the ground. Biting back tears of disbelief as she stared into her mother's eyes, all she saw was a stranger who had made it abundantly clear that her presence was a bane.

"I'm giving you one more chance. Leave me the fuck alone."

The echo of the door slamming reverberated through Cierra like a pejorative slap to her face. It hadn't been Diane's push that left her reeling on the ground; instead, it'd been the way her mother shut her out for the second time, any hope of a long awaited reunion all but gone.

Dusting herself off, Cierra took off into the distance, forcing herself not to turn back. She didn't care that a thunderstorm was brewing, the torrential rain soaking her to the core. Perhaps it was for the better. That way, no one could see the avalanche of tears she could no longer hold back, co-mingling with the raindrops as they streamed down in rivulets. She had been desperate to escape the looming shadows of her adoptive parents, desperate to forge a new path for herself by locating her birth mother. Instead, all she'd done was set herself up for heartbreak. It had been foolish to think that the acceptance and affection she craved so badly could come from the same woman who had abandoned her in the first place.

Two streets away, she collapsed onto the ground, her legs devoid of the will to keep moving. Her mind was a maelstrom of denial, and deep inside, she still refused to accept that her biological mother would be uncaring enough to jettison a gift-wrapped shot at reconciliation. All these years, she'd been deluding herself that she just needed to be patient, and let the powers that be align the stars on her behalf. She hadn't expected such a cruel twist of fate instead; had the time come for her to throw in the towel?

The pounding of footsteps along the gravel sounded as a large shadow was cast over where Cierra sat. She looked up, only to see Diane sheltering her from the rain with a bright red umbrella.

"Why did you come out? Haven't you made yourself abundantly clear that I should just leave?"

The tension between them was palpable as Diane stayed silent, weighing her words like she was afraid of saying the wrong thing again.

"Look, if you're not going to say anything, I'll …"

"Wait. I chased you away just now because I was ashamed. I'd been the one who let you down years ago, and now that you've come back from the blue, I got caught off guard. I don't deserve you; I've never did. But when you took off again, I couldn't beat the thought of losing you, possibly for good this time."

Cierra found her feet, keeping her gaze on Diane's tear-streaked face as the rain continued pelting them both. "I came here with only one thing in mind - to reconnect with my missing past. For the longest time, I've never known who I was, where I came from. You can't imagine the nights I've cried myself to sleep wondering why my origin is a black hole. All those Fourth of July celebrations and Thanksgiving dinners with my adoptive family, I'd wonder where my real family was and what they were up to. This reunion means more to me than I can ever put into words, because the bond we share can never be taken away by time and distance."

It had been so hard for Cierra's heartfelt words to emerge that she hadn't even realised Diane kneeling, arms wrapped around her in a massive hug.

"My child, you're right that what I've put you through is unforgivable. I can't change the past, but I can start making amends from now. Let's get back to the house, shall we? We've got a ton to catch up on."

Cierra's heart lurched as she nodded vigorously, not wanting to waste another second with her mother. They huddled alongside each other in the unforgiving rain, heading back to Diane's apartment with a skip in their step. For the first time in forever, Cierra smiled from the depths of her soul, grateful to see the joyous end of a decades-old new year resolution. Now that the first step had been taken, a journey of infinite possibilities beckoned, and she couldn’t wait to get started.