A local woman missing- Mary Kubica

LEO
NOW
Over dinner I stare at you, wondering if the cleft chin only shows its
face sometimes. But for as long as I stare, I never see it. It’s not
there.
That night I do some digging on the internet. I see the same thing
Piper saw. The only way to get rid of a cleft chin is through surgery.
That costs about two or three thousand dollars. I seriously doubt
those meth heads forked over a couple grand for a chin implant for
you. I’m also doubting there’s a plastic surgeon anywhere near
Michael that could have done it.
I compare the two pictures side by side. There are far more
similarities than not. Most of the differences could be chalked up to
time, like the way your nose has widened or your face narrowed.
That happens as we grow up. Your hair is also darker. The sun
lightens hair. Where you were at, there was no sun.
But then there’s that cleft chin, also known by the internet as the
incomplete fusion of the symphysis menti during fetal development.
In layman’s terms: a butt chin. It’s rare. It’s genetic. It’s gone. You
don’t have it anymore. It isn’t that you lost it.
It’s that you are not my sister.
I don’t know what to do with this information. Do I tell Dad and
break his heart? Or let him go on believing this pipe dream of his?
The odds of my sister ever coming home now are slim to none. As
long as Dad thinks you’re her, he’s happy. He can get on with his life.
He can have closure, albeit phony. You, whoever you are, who lived
locked in someone’s basement for eleven years, can have a better
life. Dad will take care of you. He’ll give you everything you need.
Except that you probably have your own folks out there. Maybe
you have a kid brother, too. They’re probably missing you.
I wait two days before I show Dad the pictures Piper showed me.
At first he flies off the handle, mad mostly at me for making shit up.