Bobby has a Daughter-only a story

Bobby Has a Daughter
This is a short story about Bobby Goren finding out he has a daughter. This is written in his own words. Of course he doesn't have daughter, at least not yet. Thank you Vincent D'Onofrio. Enjoy!!!!!

July 1, 2008

It was a hot July day and Eames and I were sitting at our desks discussing the turn of events that had happened from a particular homicide. We were at a dead end and although we did not like or want to admit it, the events were not in our favor. This particular day it seemed the humidity from outside had seeped into the very core of the precinct. I was HOT and I didn't want to be here anymore.

I found myself daydreaming of sitting in a pool of sparkling clear water. It started to rain, just a sprinkle and I cherished the water as it splash against my face. A giggle snapped me back to reality and I realized it was Eames. She had taken her fingers and dipped them into a cup of water and tossed it in my direction. Man, did I feel foolish. I only smiled at her.

She smiled back, but she knew I would probably get her later and I would. "It sure is hot today." She managed to say, wiping some sweat off her brow.

"The captain said the air conditioner had broken and they were working on fixing it, but you know how it goes." I answered her.

Eames acknowledged me by saying, "Yeah, yeah." then she put her face back into her notes. She picked up the phone and made a call.

I tried my best to concentrate, but I couldn't. Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I turned to look. "Excuse me detective," a fellow officer said to me, "there is a young lady wishing to speak to you."

"Wishing to speak to me?" I repeated.

"Yes sir, I have her sitting in the interview room. She's a real looker." The officer then walked away.

I was baffled by his remark. I haven't been visited by a woman in about-hell-never, let alone a young lady. This really peaked my curiosity, but what does that old saying say? Curiosity killed the cat. Am I even allowed to think that? I looked at Eames, hoping she could shed some light on the matter, but she was still on the phone and it looked like she was having an enjoyable conversation too. I thought she was making a call to solve the case, silly me, I thought.

I sighed softly and walked to the interview room. I had to have a peek. Yes, curiosity did get the best of me, after all I am only human. I looked through the glass and saw a petite young girl, not lady, sitting at the table with her hands folded in her lap. Couldn't have been no more than eleven or twelve, pretty though. Her brown hair was long with bangs across her forehead. She did look familiar, but I couldn't place her. It was her eyes, a light chocolate brown. Where have I seen eyes like that before, I kept wondering.

She looked up at me and smiled slightly. I've decided to enter the room. "Hello there young lady."

"Are you Mr. Robert Goren?" she asked me.

"Yes, I am and you are?"

"My name is Myra." She said extending her hand out for a shake. She seemd so mature for her age.

"How can I help you?" I asked her taking a seat across from her. I could not over her eyes. I know I've seen eyes like that before.

"Do you know Christine Jenkins?" She was to the point. She seemed a lot like-well like me.

Christine Jenkins. Wow, I haven't heard that name in nearly twelve years or so. "I have known her." I answered her. "Is she your mom?" I could see a resemblance.

Myra smiled and her face lit up as if she had received a really cool present. "Yes."

"Did she send you?" I asked. It made me wondered if Chrissy was nearby and I got nervous. We didn't part on the best of terms.

"No." Myra looked down at the table, almost afraid to look me in the eye.

"Then where is your mother?" I asked. She still wouldn't look my in the eye. "Does she know you are here?"

Myra held her head up, "no."

I was shocked that this young girl would be wandering the streets of New York City, without supervision. At least my daughter wouldn't be. "You are too young to be going about the city."

Her smiled faded, "I am not! I'm nearly twelve!" Her bottom lip pouted.

The girl had no idea what lurked on the streets. Perverts, murderers, pimps; all looking for fresh young blood like her. I've seen it all and it isn't pretty. If she was my daughter, she certainly wouldn't be by herself, I found myself thinking. Her innocence made me smile.

"So, why did you want to see me?" I changed the subject.

She wiggled restlessly in her chair and I decided to get her something to drink. I excused myself and left the room leaving her with her thoughts.

I stopped at the soda machine and got her a can of Sprite. I still could not get over those eyes. Where have I seen eyes like that? I walked past my desk. Eames was still on the phone, laughing and giggling and I just shook my head. I really needed her opinion right now, but whoever was on the phone had her undivided attention.

I opened the can and set it in front of Myra. she took a sip like a dainty girl would and it made me smile. She sure was a proper young lady. I sure hope she stays that way.

On the table was an envelope and she pushed it towards me. I didn't notice an envelope before, but I dismiss the thoughts as I took and opened it. Before removing the contents, I gave her one last look as she looked up at me with those brown eyes.

Inside the envelope was a folded piece of paper. I opened it and realized it was a birth certificate, Myra's birth certificate. I looked at her and she was still watching me. She seemed so eager. "What is this?"

"Didn't you read it?" Her smile faded.

"I know it is your birth certificate, but why do you want me to read it?" I was really stupid.

There was that pout again. "Did you read who the father was?" She managed to blurt out.

I gave her a long hard stare and then I looked at the certificate again. Under the father section was typed, Robert Goren. My eyes got wide. Of course, now I knew where I saw those eys. I looked at those eyes everyday; everytime I look in the mirror. They were my eyes.

I wanted to run and hide. There was no way I was this young girl's father, but I could not deny it either. There were rumors of why Chrissy left, but I never persued them. I began to panic, but I tried not to let her see. How did something like this happen? Of course, I know how it happened, I just wasn't willing to accept it.

"Did your mother send you?" I wasn't smiling and she saw that. Her eyes began to fill with tears and it broke my heart.

She shook her head. Her bottom lip began to quiver. She actually hadn't thought about how I would feel or if I would accept it or not. She probably had some father fantasy about how when she told me, I would sweep her in my arms and we would live happily ever after. Well, little girl, this isn't a fairy tale and I am certainly not your father in shining armor, I thought.

But, I couldn't tear myself away from her. I wanted to run, but my feet would not go the distance it would take to get away from her. Her tears fell down her cheeks as she looked at me and I was afraid; afraid of my own stupid feelings. I am NOT supposed to feel things like this. I am a detective; a cop; a law enforcer; trained to catch even the most horrid of criminals and here is a young girl, barely old enough to understand life itself, but here she is just the same, torturing me. She has somehow grabbed a hold of the strings of my heart and man, does she have a grip. I can not pull away, nor do I want to.

I find myself going to where she is sitting. Back up Bobby boy! Don't go near her! Stay away! RUN! But I can not. I take her in my arms and hold her close as she cries against my chest. Suddenly my thoughts take a different turn. This is my daughter. My heart is beating with pride and I am realizing that I want this; I need this. Women have this maternal instinct, maybe men have a paternal instinct. I do not know, but something has happened to my cold, old heart and it has to do with a special little girl.

.......I am a father......