Missing Jenny

I stared outside the window. It was raining heavily.

Lord, where is my daughter? What have I done wrong that she ran out on me?

I was holding a photo frame of my daughter, gazing intensely at the smiling 14-year-old. Her father’s eyes. Her mother's nose. Our baby. Gone. Stolen. Kidnapped.

The picture was taken last Christmas, in front of our Christmas tree. Flash forward, when New Year’s Eve came, she did the countdown with her friends in the city.

Since it was her first request to spend New Year with friends, I let her go. It was the biggest mistake in my life. That night, she met her boyfriend, a charming sweet-talker who wanted nothing but her body.

I saw his craving in his eyes- the way he looked at my daughter. I tried to warn my daughter but she got angry. We were arguing in no time and between a 14-year-old mother-and-daughter relationship, she chose to be with him- a young boy whom she knew for less than three months.

Where could my baby be, Lord? It’s raining so heavily outside. Where could she be?

I imagined so many things. I imagined her walking along the streets, cowering in the rain, or running across the streets, her hands over her head. I imagined that she was at her boyfriend’s house, having sex. I felt sick at the pit of my stomach. No, my baby! Tears welled in my eyes. There was an unbearable pain in my heart.

I failed my motherhood, Lord. I failed my child! I failed to protect her.

I felt hands on my shoulder. I turned, my eyes still watery. My husband looked at me silently. The pain he suffered was no less. I have never seen so many tears in his eyes. The eye-bags beneath his eyes have grown deeper, darker. I could not console him as I could not console even myself. Instead, at guilt, he was the one who stood by me, who consoled me although the pain in him was also so real.

“She’s our only daughter, Charles. Our only baby…” I told him, almost whimpering as I hugged myself. “I should have just let her be with him.”

Charles squatted in front of me, held me tight, looked at me in the eyes and said: “Look, there is nothing you could have done to prevent this, okay? You have done your best, and I am so proud of you.”

Proud of me? Why the hell would he be proud of me? I killed our baby! There’s blood on my hands!

“Tell me, Charles. Where could she be?” I demanded, standing up, losing my patience. “Where is she? Where does this boy live?”

I lost my mind. I became angry. “I don’t care. I want to go out and look for her!”

I took the car keys from the key tray and turned to go. Charles stood at the door to prevent me from going. “But, baby, it’s raining outside!”

“Who cares if it is raining? My little girl is out there, in the streets! I am her mother! I can’t be sitting around doing nothing! I am going insane, Charles!”

Charles had a very strange look on his face, as though two opposite forces were battling against each other from inside of him. Finally, after a long while, his face softened and showed the anguish and heartbreak he had first pushed away when he heard the news of Jenny’s disappearance.

“You are right, baby,’ he said softly, his voice breaking. “What was I thinking? Nothing is more important than having our little darling back safely.”

It was the first time he had ever acknowledged that Jenny had run away from home … that she was missing. “I’m coming with you, baby…” Charles said decisively.

“Stop wasting time and let’s go!” I scolded him, feeling rather irritated that we have lost so much time standing around at home instead of searching for Jenny in the streets. We hopped in the car and went to look for her. Missing her was driving us both crazy- especially me. We went to the social centre so many times and they got so tired of us that they sent us home the moment they saw us. Sometimes, I doubted if they were really actually helping us at all.

Sure, Jenny’s picture has been in every newspaper but it’s been about 3 weeks now. Anything could have happened to Jenny.

“Wait! Wait! Stop the car!” I cried out as I saw a figure walking in the streets. “That’s her!”

“That’s not her.” Charles said, certain.

“Stop the car! Stop the car!” I demanded stubbornly.

“Okay, okay!” Charles said when I took over the steering wheel to distract his driving. “I stopped the car.”

I unlocked the door quickly and stepped out to the streets. From the streets, I saw that it was not her. Then, horns were blaring and I looked at the vehicle coming towards me. My daughter was inside that car. Her boyfriend was driving.