Thanks so much for the reviews, people! This fic has become my new baby lol
What do you wear to meet a long-lost relative! An only relative!
That was the question that was circle through Stella's mind as she ransacked her closet. It was nearing seven when she found something that would be deemed suitable. She pulled on the grey pant suit and crisp blue shirt, slid her feet into her boots and grabbed her purse.
Clicking the button for the elevator, she found that it wasn't exactly empty. Instead, Mac stood facing her, his work suit still on, but his tie slightly looser than before.
"I was just coming to see you. You're going I take it"
"Nothing ventured…" she shrugged, stepping in and clicking for the ground floor.
"How do you feel?"
"I couldn't tell you. I don't know myself" she flashed him a humourless smile
Mac handed her a brown manila folder.
"What's this?"
"Everything about Antoli Nastasi." He explained. "I wanted to check him out myself, see if he was telling the truth"
She looked down at the folder in her hands. Did she want to open it? What if it said something that would ruin the illusion before it had even begun?
"I understand" he said, knowing what she was thinking. She thanks him but puts it in her bag.
"Want me to drive you?" he asked as they stepped out onto the street
"No, but thanks again. I need some time to…figure this thing out"
Mac nods, sticking out his hand to hail a cab for her. As one stopped, he reached out to open the door, "Good luck. Be careful. Call me for anything"
"I will. Thanks, Mac". Stella climbed into the car and Mac closed the door for her. She told the cabbie the destination, and she was on her way.
Stella watched the buildings whiz by; the hundreds of people becoming blurs as the driver raced down the streets.
These streets are her life.
She's walked down them; shopped down them; worked down them her whole life.
She watches as they pass the little deli on 5th Avenue. Her mind had often wandered, to where she'd imagine herself and her mother walking into the small store, buying a birthday cake, maybe for her.
They passed the little park, where she saw her father pushing her on the swings. Every time she swung back to him, he'd tickle her in the ribs and she'd giggle and wriggle out of his hands, sending the seat swinging all over.
And past that Town house. The one where Stella saw herself sat on the stoop, watching her little brother ride up and down the street on a blue tricycle, shouting her to watch him.
This was how she'd imagined her life would have been had she had parents.
She'd imagined her grandparents too. They'd all be gathered in the house, watching her perform a piano recital, or her favourite 'memory' of Christmas Day.
Stella, her parents and grandparents would surround the large pine tree, decorated with red and gold baubles and tinsel, and at the base would be hundreds of presents, the majority for her.
But what now?
She'd seen this family all her life. This man could destroy the illusion. What if her parents died horribly? What if they weren't good people? What if Stella was a mistake?
Of course, with this mans arrival, she could learn all about her mother and father. Did she look like them? Did she get her sense of humour from her father? Was he trademark curly hair courtesy of her mother? Did she have any brothers or sisters?
The cab driver broke her from reverie. She was there. Was she ready?