TMI (2014 Collector's Dream Winner)

TMI - Chapter 46

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.

Bailey was actually going to meet her dad.

After all these years of not knowing, all the weeks of searching, she'd found him, she'd finally found him. It was like Christmas morning — no, it was like seventeen years of Christmas mornings. Even though it had totally upset her mom, signing up for that classmates site was the best thing she'd ever done. It was kind of cool seeing pictures of Nicole at seventeen. But when Ryder — no, Simon — sent her the name he’d found, it wasn’t hard to use the same site to find his yearbook. Matthew Schor.

Her father.

She’d even found pictures. His hair was curly, like hers. And they had a dimple in exactly the same place. He played football and basketball and was voted Best Smile. Maybe she'd win Best Smile next year. Maybe he'd want to adopt her and she could move in with him instead of Nicole's creepy soon-to-be-husband. Oh my God! Maybe he was married, with kids of his own and she'd have brothers or sisters.

Whoa. Head rush.

Matthew Schor.

She liked that name. It sounded so strong and well, fatherly. She could have been Bailey Schor instead of Bailey Grant. That hot spike of outrage aimed at her mother surged in her core but she battled it back. She wanted to remember every second of this precious moment with clear eyes. She wrapped her arms around her middle and squeezed out a big smile. At a red light, the driver of the car next to her kept turning to laugh at her but even that couldn't kill her joy.

What would he be like? Smart, she thought. Of course, he'd be smart, like doctor or professor or lawyer smart. Or maybe he was artistic. Not like Meg. The smile froze in place when another little pang hit and she pushed it away. She would not think of Meg. Not now. Not today.

She was meeting her dad. She tapped out another status update. 

Oh my God, wouldn't it be cool if he's a computer programmer?

The light turned green and she put the phone away. They could build her video game together — it would be a father/daughter project. She thought and dreamed and wished and imagined halfway to the address she'd found online. For the second half of the trip, she obsessed over what to say. She supposed she should have called first, but she didn't want him to hang up. She had to see him for herself. Although just knocking and blurting out, "Hi! I'm your daughter!" was probably not the best idea. She'd seen too many cheesy movies to not know that's the fastest way to getting a door slammed in your face. She revised and rewrote her script. She'd smile, give her name, and say she was looking for Matthew Schor to talk to him about her mother, Nicole Grant, and hadn't they gone out together when they were teens? He'd smile and nod and say of course he remembered Nicole, the great love of his life. Whatever happened to her? And she'd say Nicole had a baby and that baby was her and she was there to find out if her dad wanted to get to know her. He'd smile and cry and grab her in a big bear hug, spin her around and around and never want to let go.

It was just a little past noon when she stood in the driveway of a huge house with red shutters and lots of windows, her palms sweaty and her heart pounding and for a minute — just for a minute — wished Meg was here to hold her hand. She swallowed hard and swallowed again and forced her feet up the walk to the front door where she rang the doorbell with a hand that trembled.

Footsteps approached.

She wiped her hands down her pants.

The locks clicked.

Her heart stuttered.

The door opened.

She forgot to breathe.