The Woman Across the Street.

A Story by Stormy Weather

It was late at night, or early in the morning, and she was strutting down the cold sidewalk with a cigarette in her mouth. She kept her gaze focused on the ground, as if to avoid eye contact with anyone she might run into. I was walking down the sidewalk in the same direction as her, but I was across the street. I was coming home from a party I had attended, and since I had been planning to drink, I didn't bring my car. I was still pretty buzzed from the vodka shots, but the cool air helped clear my head a little. I couldn't help but to keep watching her. She looked to be in her late thirties. She had beautiful, rich mahogany hair that was wound up into a messy bun. From what I could tell, she appeared to be rather tall, maybe 5'8"-5'9", but I could be far from the truth because she was wearing high-heeled boots. The smoke from her cigarette drifted behind her as she continued to make her way down the sidewalk. Her black, leather boots coordinated well with her tight, leather jacket. She gave off the impression of toughness, like she could really hold her own. Maybe that's what I found so intriguing about her, but I wasn't quite sure. I looked down at my feet and let my mind wander...

I had a lot on my mind, recently. I was twenty-one, and attending college. My entire life I had never really cared that I was adopted. My parents were my parents whether biological or adoptive. But recently, I had been feeling the sting of not truly being a James. I mean, my surname WAS James, but not by blood. I really could be....well....anything! Maybe I was a Smith, or maybe something ethnic like O'Conner. I really didn't know, until I decided to do some investigating. I had gone to the agency that had first given me to Jim and Rhonda James when I was only a baby. They did some research and finally found something. My mother's name was Michelle Love. She had gotten pregnant as a teenager and gave me up for adoption since she couldn't care for me. She was only sixteen when she had me. My father was unknown, so I figured that he was probably some jerk who knocked-up his girlfriend and then split when the test came out positive. Lovely. But, that name had been circling my name all week since I had found out; Michelle Love. My mother. So, if she had kept me I probably would've been Isabelle Love. What a beautiful name. I just wished so badly that I could meet her.

That thought kept me distracted as I continued down the street, until I came to a cross-walk. I looked up when I had heard the sound of shoe-heels on pavement. The lady I had been watching was crossing from her sidewalk, over to mine. I glanced at her face for a second, and only a second. She had dark blue eyes, and long lashes. Her nose was small and pointed, similar to mine. And her lips were pink and rosy, and looked identical to mine. I gave her a quick smile as she walked past me into the building that was on my left. She smiled back at me, and when she did, I saw a twinkle in her eye. Something about her still drew me in, and I had to find out what it was.

"Excuse me, miss?" I jabbered nervously, not feeling very sure of myself.

She had her hand on the handle of the door, but let go and turned towards me.

"Yes?" She answered, seeming some-what concerned.

"I was just curious, and this really is none of my business, but what is this building you are entering at such a late hour?" I asked, making my voice sound as kind and gentle as possible.

She laughed, a quick giggle, and answered, "Well, I might ask you why you are out so late yourself."

"Touche, but I must say, you have the most beautiful hair I have ever seen," I answered feeling stupid.

"Thank you! You know, your features remind me of myself when I was younger...how old are you?"

"I'm....I'm.." I stammered, "I'm twenty-one."

"Just a baby, you are. It's funny, if I had a daughter, I think she'd look a lot like you," she said warily.

"So, you've never had any kids?" I asked, my curiosity spiking.

"Well..." she started, "I normally wouldn't tell this to a stranger, but you seem so nice. When I was 16 I had a baby girl. But, I had to give her up because I was much too young to be a mother. I miss her everyday, I regret not getting to see her grow up," She sighed, a long, deep sigh.

"Miss, may I ask what your name is?" I asked, my heart pounding in my ears.

"Michelle Love, and yours?"

It was then a single tear rolled down my cheek. I immediately wrapped my arms around her in the tightest embrace I had ever given.

"I'm Isabelle. It's great to meet you Mom."