Forgotten Love

March 4, 2008
She wove the crowds, desperation overpowering the manners grilled into her.

Her fingers pried apart bodies hastily as she fought her way against the current of the frenzied mob.

Just one look…one glance into the life she could’ve led.

The clamor of the press as they surrounded the three victims seemed like a faint hum in her ears. She ignored insults and dirty looks thrown her way as she struggled through. Bodies were packed tightly together as the gossip hungry press fought to interview the celebrities.

And then, just as she was about to collapse from the chaos and anxiety that wracked her tired, slender frame, she saw them. She had succeeded. Her eyes flew wide and soaked in the image.

They looked just as she had imagined. A woman, with a willowy physique and ash blonde hair that hung to her back. Her sunglasses were tinted blue, and her wary eyes scanned the crowd from behind them. A leather Prada bag hung from her shoulders, and she was decked in expensive designer wear, pre-made before they were even out in stores.

She drank in the sight of her mother in flesh, seeing the reality instead of a hastily snapped picture placed on a magazine’s front cover.

The man towered over the other two at around six foot. He had a commanding stance, probably developed after running a largely successful company for over twenty years. His dark hair hung over hazel eyes that revealed nothing, not a fleck of emotion.

She ran her fingers through her own hair, blinking her eyes furiously as she realized that she had her father’s hair.

Finally, her eyes fell upon the last person. The boy, her impersonator. Her lips twisted as she looked at him: the supposed ‘son’ of her celebrity parents.

Yes, he was the one who led the fame, inherited the fortune, and lived the life.

Her eyes narrowed as she inspected his new image. This was not the same boy she had known 3 weeks ago. This was him, warped after 3 weeks of pampering and Beverly Hills. Him, decked out in Armani and Ralph Lauren, his chin jutted out in arrogance. Her own parents believing that this was their son, oblivious to the deception that had been made. Her own parents, not knowing that their real child was of the female gender. Her own parents, unaware that she now stood looking at the child they believed was theirs with jealousy and outrage.

No. She must not think like this. It was she that had made this choice. She did not want this path, and she had offered him the impersonation. His greedy soul fell upon this offer like a shark in bloody water, snatching her life out of her hands before she had time to reconsider.

Years later, she would be thankful. She would be thankful that it was he who fell into the deep pit of deceiving, lavishness, and fame, and not herself. He was the one who led a life surrounded by leeches who waited hungrily, searching tirelessly for the one moment where he would let his defenses drop and they could move in for the prestige and money they sought. He was the one who faced backstabbing friends and an unloving family. She had escaped these factors because of her childish naiveté, and how thankful would she be years later.

Her time was almost up. The press swarmed over her, a wave that loomed over her and threatened to push her away. Her eyes swept over the family one last time and one lone tear slid out, slowly making it’s journey down her pale face. The solitary tear silently mourned the loss.

And then they were gone: replaced by a thousand news reporters and magazine photographers. Turning away, she made the easier journey away from them, away from her family and a life she would never lead.

A weight lifted off her shoulders and she made her way to her real parents: the two people who had turned kind eyes to a child they came upon. They did not know about her famous birth parents. They did not know that they had thrown her out as soon as she was born, fearful that she would become a detriment while their success peaked at its highest. A child was unwanted to them while they raked in money. And now, 14 years later, they wanted her again. But how could she go back? How could she, knowing that they had thrown her away: chosen money and fame over her? She knew she had made the right decision, seeing that they had forgotten her gender, forgotten the gender of their own child. They had never loved her, and never will.

But her foster parents were different. They welcomed her into their home, knowing nothing about her, and raised her with all the things she needed.

And as she swung open their door, the door that had always been open for her, she finally understood that this was the path she had chosen, and that she would never regret it.

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