Chapter 3 - The Boy with My Eyes
I drove back to Miami International Airport like a madman.
I parked illegally and sprinted through the terminals, searching every café, restroom, and concourse.
I asked three different janitorial supervisors about a woman named Camilla.
Finally, an older woman with a mop bucket took pity on me.
"Camilla doesn't work weekends," she said in broken English. "She only does the night shifts on weekdays."
"Do you know where she lives? Please, it's a family emergency," I begged.
The woman hesitated, but eventually scribbled an address on a napkin.
It was in Hialeah, an hour away from the wealthy estates of Coral Gables.
I drove through the heavy Florida traffic, my knuckles white on the steering wheel.
I pulled into a neighborhood of cramped, fading apartment complexes with peeling paint and rusty chain-link fences.
I parked outside building 4B and walked up to the second floor.
My heart was hammering against my ribs as I raised my fist to knock on door 212.
Before my knuckles hit the wood, the door across the hall opened.
A little boy ran out, holding a plastic toy dinosaur.
He was small, maybe four years old, wearing faded denim shorts and a mismatched t-shirt.
He stopped and looked at me.
I stopped breathing.
He had my messy dark hair. He had the exact shape of my jaw.
But most importantly, he had Camilla's bright, piercing green eyes.
"Leo! Don't run into the hall!" a voice called out.
Camilla stepped out of the apartment, holding a laundry basket.
She froze when she saw me standing there.
The laundry basket slipped from her hands, crashing to the linoleum floor.
Clothes spilled everywhere.
"Mommy?" the boy asked, looking up at her.
Camilla quickly stepped in front of the boy, shielding him from me.
"What are you doing here, Lucas?" she demanded, her voice shaking with a mix of fear and anger.
"Is he...?" I couldn't finish the sentence. My throat felt completely blocked.
"His name is Leo," Camilla said fiercely. "And you have no right to be here."
I took a step forward, tears finally spilling over my eyelids.
"Camilla, I didn't know. I swear to God, I didn't know."
She let out a harsh, sarcastic laugh.
"Don't lie to me, Lucas. Your mother made it perfectly clear how you felt five years ago."
"My mother lied to both of us!" I yelled, desperate for her to believe me.
Leo shrank behind Camilla's legs, frightened by my volume.
I immediately backed away, raising my hands in surrender.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, buddy. I didn't mean to yell," I said softly to the boy.
Camilla watched me carefully, her protective stance unwavering.
"What do you mean, she lied to both of us?" Camilla asked, her eyes narrowing.
"She told you I was upstairs and didn't want the baby," I said, my voice breaking. "But she told me you never came. She never told me you were pregnant."
Camilla stared at me, searching my face for any sign of deception.
"I only found out this morning," I whispered. "Aunt Laura told me."
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Camilla closed her eyes, letting out a long, shaky breath.
"Come inside," she finally said. "Before the neighbors call the cops."
