As she moved on, I looked down at my son’s sleeping face. How did I end up here? It felt like yesterday when I was just a carefree teenager, my biggest worry being what to wear to prom.
Then came the positive pregnancy test. My boyfriend Peter’s face when I told him is etched in my memory forever. “I can’t do this, Rhonda,” he had said, walking away without a backward glance.
My father’s reaction was even worse. “Get rid of it, or get out,” he had growled, his face red with anger. I chose my baby, and just like that, I was homeless.
For months, I wandered the streets, my growing belly a constant reminder of my uncertain future. Then, as if fate had a twisted sense of humor, I went into labor on a busy sidewalk.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” A kind-faced woman appeared by my side. “Let’s get you to a hospital.”
hat’s how I ended up in the hospital where I gave birth to my baby boy. Angela, the woman who brought me there, revealed she owned a small airline. When I told her I didn’t want to live in the same city that reminded me of my past, she gave me an option I couldn’t resist.
“I want to help you,” she said, handing me a business class ticket to New York. “This is your chance for a fresh start.”
Now, as the plane soared above the clouds, I was faced with an impossible choice. How could I, a penniless teenager, give this innocent child the life he deserved?
With trembling hands, I scribbled a note.
“I’m a poor mother who couldn’t care for her child. Don’t waste your time looking for me if you find this note. I would never have been able to provide a good life for him. I hope you accept and cherish him as your own. I’d be delighted if you named him Matthew. Matthew Harris. That was the name I had chosen for him.”
Tears blurred my vision as I kissed his forehead one last time. Then, in a moment of heart-wrenching desperation, I left him on the empty seat beside me and walked away, each step feeling like a dagger to my heart.
Once the airplane was empty, the flight attendants began cleaning the seats. One of them, Lincy, suddenly heard a strange mewing sound, like there was a kitten in the airplane. Following the sound, she finally reached my seat and found my baby.
***
Thirteen years passed in a blur of struggles and small victories. I worked tirelessly, determined to make something of myself. And every night, I dreamt of the baby boy I had left behind.
Finally, I gathered the courage to search for him. I contacted the police and they helped me find Lincy, the same flight attendant who decided to take care of my baby.
“He’s angry,” Lincy warned as she led me to her home. “But he agreed to meet you.”
The moment I saw him, my heart stopped. He had my eyes.
“My mom? You must be kidding me!” Matthew’s voice dripped with venom. “Where have you been all these years? I don’t need you! I am happy with my adoptive parents.”
“I’m sorry, Matthew,” I choked out. “I know you’re upset, and you don’t want to accept me, but can’t you give me one chance?”
“No way!” he yelled. “You are a mean woman who left me all alone. If my parents didn’t adopt me, I’d be in an orphanage today!”
Lincy stepped in, explaining my situation. Slowly, Matthew’s anger seemed to soften.
“I can forgive you, maybe,” he said finally. “But I can’t call you mom. I have only one mother.”
“It’s all right, Matthew,” I said, hope blooming in my chest. “Can I come to see you at least on weekends?”
“Ok, I don’t mind that,” he agreed.
Over the next decade, our relationship grew. Now, at 23, Matthew is a successful data scientist in New York City. As for me, I’ve started dating a wonderful man named Andrew.
Today, as I prepare to meet Matthew for our weekly dinner, I feel a mix of nervousness and excitement. I’m planning to tell him about Andrew, hoping for his blessing.
Life has a funny way of coming full circle. The decision I made on that plane thirteen years ago nearly broke me, but it led us here. To forgiveness, to understanding, to love.
As I knock on Matthew’s door, I silently thank Angela, wherever she is. Her kindness gave me the strength to make that impossible choice, and the courage to find my way back.
The door opens, and Matthew’s smile greets me. “Hey, Rhonda,” he says warmly. “Come on in.”
And just like that, I know everything will be okay.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
