Once I arrived in Mexico, I was asked to stay on the plane by one of the flight attendants. I sat in my seat until the whole plane cleared out, from there a gentleman in a black suit boarded the plane and said the key words only I would know, "Captain America awaits for you in his car."
My biological father was known as Captain America because of his strikingly American facial features.
I deplaned and walked to a black SUV that was sitting on the tarmac. It was here that I met my birth father for the first time. He was just like the picture, except he had aged about 30+ years.
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When I had first decided to run I thought maybe I could go to a place where no one would know me and I wouldn't stand out, then I realized I needed protection. A few years ago I started looking into my family background and I found nothing. For the first few months I searched and came up empty, and then it hit me after about a year that my birth father looked familiar. I thought to myself, I've looked at that picture for years, of course it looks familiar. Then one day over a cup of coffee and the newspaper I spit my coffee right onto his face.
Inside the LA Times was an article, the latest on what 'Victor Guadalupe Lopez' was up to. I couldn't believe it on top of trying to put the pieces together my only clue had coffee all over it. I tried asking my parents questions but the answers were always the same. They didn't know much.
I used my resources and started looking and there it was, all this information on my biological father. Almost forty years of crime and they could not prove a thing, all allegations. If anyone found out can you imagine what that would mean for a Detective in the LAPD.
I found a way to coerce my mother to call him once, with the excuse that I was sick, just so I could see if he wanted anything to do with me. He said if I really wanted him around he would be there for me. I panicked and decided I wasn't ready and I never called again. Not until I had no where to hide or run.
"Buenas Tardes." I had downloaded an app, and that was the best I could do with my spanish.
"Good afternoon, Tiffany, welcome to my country."
"Thank you. I'm glad you speak English, I don't speak spanish." It was fairly accented English but it was light years beyond my Spanish.
"Is not perfect but it will do for now. Come inside."
Why had I run here, well I knew no one would find me here, not Jane and not the U.S. government. My father, well he is a notorious Mexican drug-lord. 'Captain American', one of the most wanted men for his connections, to say the least. Did I mention he's filthy rich? No one knows where to find him or how, he finds you not the other way around. And here I am a detective for the LAPD on my way to his personal home, no chance of anybody finding me here.
"I hear you been attacked, someone try to kill you."
"Yeah, I was working a case and I got too close to the killer, and apparently my death was the easiest way for them to avoid getting caught. Does it bother you that I am a cop?" He laughed a good laugh. We were sitting together in the back of his SUV.
"No my daughter, I think it is how your people say ironic. We both make a living doing what we do best that is all. I do this to make a living and once you are in there is no out, unless by death." Daughter only two other people called me that. I mean it is not as if I am ready to call him father or anyone else mother.
"I would appreciate it if I didn't see anything too illegal please, if they find out where I have come to hide they will try to get as much information from me and I rather not know anything."
"Of course not, that is why your mother and I gave you for adoption. So you would never have to be force into life of crime. Pero here you are a policia."
"Is that why you gave me up, for my protection. You don't have other kids?"
"No you are my only daughter, my beautiful Rosita, you look just like your mother but with my eye color, skin and eyes. You are beautiful." He stroked my cheek it was unsettling and I winced, but he meant no harm. He immediately retracted his hand. I had been on edge for a while now.
"Can I meet her?" Bad question because he broke eye contact.
"I am sorry she die a few years ago, she never was able to get over the pain of letting you go, I think she died of a broken heart, doctor says heart attack."
"Oh."
It's easy to talk to someone who is a total stranger. Upon arrival he wasn't my father, he wasn't anything. He was just someone who was helping me out. I didn't have all the questions I had as a kid, none of them mattered anymore because I was happy with what I had, a loving family.
As a child I always knew I was adopted, my sisters and I looked too different. My parents told me that my adoption had taken place before I was born and at birth my mother held me for two hours crying and then she handed me to my new mother. I had never seen her after that but my adoptive parents always sent them pictures of me.
I had hopes of seeing them some day when I was ready, but I was told I could only call my father if it was a life or death emergency. So, I put it away along with the thoughts of who they were and why. I knew it was because they could have raised me and chose not to. I only knew that they were Mexican, I knew the basics. I didn't care because they had given me up, not the other way around and I had a family and sisters who loved me.
I had stopped talking for a while. I thought I would get to see her at least once.
I wanted to learn about my origins so I could someday tell my kids but now here I was with only my birth father. I didn't know what to do or say, but I knew I needed space to process everything.
Why had I run? I know that parts really clear to me. The woman I thought I loved told me I was insane when I told her that her soon to be ex-wife was a serial killer. I had all the proof but would need her help to get all the evidence together.
We weren't together officially, but we were dating and like an idiot I fell for her. She was getting a divorce and only waiting for Jane, her ex-wife to sign the papers. Then when I told her everything I knew about the killings and her ex-wife's involvement, she tells me that Jane is her wife and how dare I say those things. She might as well have shot me in the face because that might have hurt less than those damn words.
I don't exactly have a plan as to what I'm going to do but Captain America says I can stay here as long as I want. He has even offered to set me up for life if I want, without any connections to him or my past.
If I didn't have a loving family I might have done it. I never want to see Jane or Solo again. I'm going to stay here for as long as it takes me to figure out a plan. I'm no longer on the case so I don't feel I'm a threat anymore as long as Santana keeps her big, luscious, juicy lips shut. Fuck, no I hate her, I hate her so much.
I cut myself off from the world when I threw away my cell phone in Ft. Lauderdale. When I arrived at Miami I left the airport for Ft. Lauderdale making sure to leave a trail somewhere in between and had a different taxi drive me to West Palm Beach. As far as they knew I was in Miami headed God knows where.
In between all that I bought a few prepaid phones and had money cards for each of the different companies. I was determined to stay in hiding.
Captain America said he would find a safe way for me to contact my parents and have them tell the U.S. Marshals who are looking for me to not look for me since I had willingly left. I would later deal with the consequences of my actions, if I ever went back.
