Her mother

Her face. Her eyes. 

Familiar, but also innately stranger to her.

They looked exactly the same. Their figure curved in the same spots and their eyes crinkled the same way when they smiled. Ayesha also clutched her handbag tightly to her chest when she was nervous; she also scuffed her boots on the floor when she was unsure what to say. Bitten lips and haphazard selection of clothes told Ayesha that they also both almost late for the discussion. They looked so alike. The teenage girl felt like wanting to touch the woman in front of her, just to check that this was all real and that this wasn’t a mere enactment in front of the mirror.

It was a dream come true…

The letter brought to her last week, detailing her biological mother’s will to see her had caught Ayesha from complete surprise. Even after years of dreaming about this one moment, toying with the idea of how it would turn out, nothing could’ve prepared her for that moment. 

At first, a burst of elation enveloped her before quicker than a set of traffic lights, she got overtook by fear, nerves and, least of all, but still there hiding in the background, anger. Ayesha brushed it aside, looking to Andrea for advice. The moment was never thought of and that hint of bitter emotion never entertained. 

Andrea had insisted that Ayesha go, a sad smile playing her lips, as she stroked her auburn brown hair fondly.

“Will she like me?” Ayesha had wondered aloud.

Andrea paused. “We’ll see” 

The use of the collective pronoun brought a smile to Ayesha’s lips. It had never been ‘Me’ or ‘I’ with Andrea, but ‘We’ and ‘Us’. The two of them had done everything together and Ayesha knew that the woman had filled more than just the blank space of a mother in her heart. Andrea, with her light brown straight, mousy hair, fair complexion and freckles accompanied by Ayesha, with her dark brown, wavy hair, brown complexion and almond-shaped eyes. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Ayesha wasn’t Andrea’s actual daughter. Eyes and stares followed the two of them wherever they went and after a while, even a young Ayesha started noticing. It hadn’t been long before the girl had started making excuses to go out alone and refuse to be picked up from instantly outside the school gates. All she’d wanted was a mother.

…or a nightmare come to life

And now here she was in front of her. Almost completely identical, if not for age. Ayesha had got her wish. No more sniggers behind her back that no one wanted her or comments about how she turned out so different from Andrea. Ayesha should’ve smiled, her life should’ve lit up like they do in movies and she should go and hug her…that woman right now and tell her everything was going to be alright.

But she didn’t. This woman wasn’t Andrea. Sure, she looked decent enough to look like her mother, but there was no spark, no familiar smile, no bucket-full of memories. Just a blank void. No one could fill that. 

Realisation hit her hard, while staring at that woman. 

Andrea was her mother. 

All this time she’d been fooling around, waiting for her mother, wondering what the woman would think of her; working hard to please her and creating a directory of everything she’d done to show her, when right there, standing to the side, waiting patiently for her to realise, was Andrea. A pang of pain shot through her at the thought of what Andrea must’ve gone through. Affection filled her soul. 

The woman in front approached and pulled the young girl into a hug. Ayesha stiffened. She didn’t know what to do. This hug wasn’t warm and comforting like Andrea’s, nor jovial and relaxing like her friends’ from school. No. It was strange and oddly restricting. Ayesha stepped back shaking her head. This couldn’t be her mother.

“I’m sorry” she mumbled, stumbling upon her own feet, as she walked towards the door she’d only come through a few minutes ago. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do this anymore”

Slowly and carefully, choosing her steps right, Ayesha walked out of that door, letting it close tightly shut behind her. 

A world full of possibilities closed. 

Ayesha looked ahead of her and smiled tentatively.

Andrea was sitting there, her head propped in her hands as she read the magazine.

“Andrea” Ayesha whispered.

The woman looked up suddenly and smiled warmly at sight of Ayesha, gesturing her to come forward.

The girl obeyed.

“You were quick” she commented, wrapping an arm around Ayesha’s shoulders.

No answer.

“You alright, Ayesha?” Concern etched her voice.

“I didn’t meet her” Ayesha confessed, eyes drawing up to meet Andrea’s.

“But why? I thought you were excited. She’s your mother.” Andrea rambled, her eyes flicking up and down Ayesha, checking she was looking well.

Ayesha frowned at that word: “Mother”

Andrea was her mother in all ways but one and that woman was her mother in no ways but one, but still that woman was allowed to keep the title. She didn’t understand it. 

“I don’t need her.” Ayesha explained. “She’s not my mother. You are.” She gestured to Andrea, who looked bewildered at the idea. “You’ve taken care of me long before I could remember and you’ve been the one whose helped me every step of my life. I don’t care anymore if you don’t look the same way as me. When people laugh and point, let them point. I don’t care. You’ve helped me in more ways than I can imagine and still I can’t call If you aren’t my mother, then I don’t know who is.”

Her short monologue finished, Ayesha smiled tentatively at Andrea. 

Nothing.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

She backtracked.

“Of course, I wouldn’t-“

Her speech was cut off by a large pair of arm snaking their way around her. Ayesha leant in without even realising. Warm and Comforting. They fit perfectly together. Breathing in the deep small of vanilla and honey shampoo, Ayesha closed her eyes instinctively. Warm, wet tears dampened her hair, but Ayesha didn’t mind.

A weight lifted itself off her shoulders and the girl smiled.

This was the hug of a mother.

She’d found her.