Status: Completed
Fracture
one.
I never had any worries about my daughter until she started dating a boy in a band. She had never given me any reason to worry until then. She woke up every morning and got to school on time unless she was too sick to do so, got good grades, was involved in an ample amount of clubs, was well adjusted in her social life, and usually had the house swarming with teenagers on the weekends.
Body issues seemed utterly irrelevant to her, and I could only count a few times we'd really argued. She had developed the outgoing, fun personality of her father, and my calm (most of the time) attitude. In my humble motherly opinion, she was completely beautiful. She had the dark complexion and hair of her father, and by some punnett square miracle had inherited my deep blue eyes. Her body was enhanced by the curves I had always longed to have at her age, and her smile had been perfected by the braces she wore when she was younger.
I'd only heard her ask about her father a few times, but she had, it seemed, accepted the fact that I had raised her alone and didn't plan on telling her who he was. I had worked extremely hard to give her the best life I possibly could since the day she was born. My mother had been nothing short of a savior in those first few years; helping me get through school and watching my daughter whenever I needed her to. I gave up any thought of dating and instead graduated with a degree in business by the time my daughter turned 4.
A year later I was working the job of my dreams. Now, almost 12 years later, I was higher up in the music industry than I ever thought possible. Despite what people say, it's not about clawing your way up or sleeping around; you just have to impress the right people and work your ass off. Although, I won't deny the fact that there ARE some women who manage to get where they want by doing things I don't want to imagine.
On the day my daughter was born, I was full of emotions. I was extremely happy that there hadn't been any complications with the birth and I now had a beautiful little girl to devote my life to. On the other hand, I was a complete mess. How was I supposed to do this alone? What would happen when she started wondering why all the other kids had fathers and she didn't? I made myself push aside any worries and make sure she grew up happy and sane.
Juliet Ameera Reed was everything I hoped she would be so far. I had made sure I kept a bit of her father by giving her an Arabic middle name and doing my best to make sure Juliet understood that he was in no way a bad person. His life had just been headed in a different direction, and that direction didn't include getting his 18 year old girlfriend pregnant while he was only 21. I told her he was funny, charming, and when she got a little older, I told her he loved having a good time. I never wanted her to grow up thinking he left us like he didn't care, because I knew if he had the decision, he would have left his whole life behind.
At the time, I thought I was letting love make the difficult decision for me by making sure he kept pursuing his dreams. The time that eventually passed kept me from contacting him and telling him the truth. It was easier to keep moving forward than try to make sense of the past.
***
It was a quiet Saturday night, and I expected Juliet home at any minute. I was watching TV in sweats and an old band t-shirt that I had bought in my mid-teens at my first concert. The memories I had of my teenage years were distant and selective; the only teenage memories that mattered were of when I was 18 and 19. I heard the front door open and close and I listened to see if Juliet had brought anyone home with her.
"Hey, Mom! I'm gonna change really quick," Her voice came from the direction of her bedroom, and I heard the door shut quietly.
A couple minutes later Juliet nearly skipped into the living room, a smile plastered on her beaming face.
"Did you have a good night, bug?" I asked as I turned the volume down and Juliet snuggled into the opposite side of the couch.
"Best night EVER," She continued smiling, "Have I told you about Tyler yet?"
"I think I've heard his name a few times, but nothing too in depth," I smirked, knowing I was in for story.
"Well, he's this amazing guy. He's tall and tan and oh my gosh you wouldn't believe how cute he is!" She gushed.
I laughed lightly, "And?"
"I went to see his band play tonight and they were SO good. Then afterward he took me out to get some pizza and we went to the park and... Mom? What's wrong?" Her face suddenly dropped as she saw the look on mine.
"You said he's in a band?" I couldn't force myself to smile.
"Yeah... What's wrong?" Her face took on a puzzled look.
"Nothing. Do you want something to drink?" I pushed myself off the couch and walked to the kitchen.
I couldn't ruin her seventeen-year-old dreams, no matter what had happened in my past. She followed behind me and kept her questions up.
"Mom, do you think he's using me to get to you or something? I haven't told him you work for a record label, I swear," Her voice had taken on a worried tone.
"No, that's not it, honey," I shook my head filled the kettle with water.
"Then what's the problem? He's a really nice guy, I-"
"Juliet, it's nothing. Really. I'm glad you've found a nice guy. He sounds very sweet," I told her, setting the kettle on the stove and turning the heat on high.
"Mom, I know that something's wrong. If you're afraid I'm going to get hurt or something, I understand."
I placed my hand on Juliet's cheek, "Honey, I want you to be happy. Getting hurt is part of life. It's part of getting involved with any guy," I smiled, "I have to let you experience everything without getting involved."
I dropped my hand and made my way to the cupboard.
"Believe it or not, Mom, I can tell when something's actually wrong. Why can't you just tell me the real reason?"
I shook my head and took down two mugs.
"Hot chocolate or tea?" I asked, rifling through the packets.
"Is it about Dad?" She asked quietly.
I dropped my hands and looked into the eyes that matched my own. I had to make a decision: tell my daughter the whole truth about her father, or wait even longer to tell her.
"Whatever it is, I can handle it," I could see her eyes start to dance at the thought of finding out details about the father she never knew.
"Honey, I don't..." I took a deep breath, shaking my head.
"Please..." She pleaded in a voice I rarely heard.
I looked up at her and made a decision, "Okay... I think it's time you knew about this anyway..."
"Oh, Mom! You don't know how long I've waited for you to say that!" The grin that had disappeared minutes ago suddenly reappeared.
***
"I'm not really sure where to start..." We walked back into the living room, mugs in hand, and sat down on the couch again.
"Start at the beginning," She laughed.
"That sounds good," I smiled.
Body issues seemed utterly irrelevant to her, and I could only count a few times we'd really argued. She had developed the outgoing, fun personality of her father, and my calm (most of the time) attitude. In my humble motherly opinion, she was completely beautiful. She had the dark complexion and hair of her father, and by some punnett square miracle had inherited my deep blue eyes. Her body was enhanced by the curves I had always longed to have at her age, and her smile had been perfected by the braces she wore when she was younger.
I'd only heard her ask about her father a few times, but she had, it seemed, accepted the fact that I had raised her alone and didn't plan on telling her who he was. I had worked extremely hard to give her the best life I possibly could since the day she was born. My mother had been nothing short of a savior in those first few years; helping me get through school and watching my daughter whenever I needed her to. I gave up any thought of dating and instead graduated with a degree in business by the time my daughter turned 4.
A year later I was working the job of my dreams. Now, almost 12 years later, I was higher up in the music industry than I ever thought possible. Despite what people say, it's not about clawing your way up or sleeping around; you just have to impress the right people and work your ass off. Although, I won't deny the fact that there ARE some women who manage to get where they want by doing things I don't want to imagine.
On the day my daughter was born, I was full of emotions. I was extremely happy that there hadn't been any complications with the birth and I now had a beautiful little girl to devote my life to. On the other hand, I was a complete mess. How was I supposed to do this alone? What would happen when she started wondering why all the other kids had fathers and she didn't? I made myself push aside any worries and make sure she grew up happy and sane.
Juliet Ameera Reed was everything I hoped she would be so far. I had made sure I kept a bit of her father by giving her an Arabic middle name and doing my best to make sure Juliet understood that he was in no way a bad person. His life had just been headed in a different direction, and that direction didn't include getting his 18 year old girlfriend pregnant while he was only 21. I told her he was funny, charming, and when she got a little older, I told her he loved having a good time. I never wanted her to grow up thinking he left us like he didn't care, because I knew if he had the decision, he would have left his whole life behind.
At the time, I thought I was letting love make the difficult decision for me by making sure he kept pursuing his dreams. The time that eventually passed kept me from contacting him and telling him the truth. It was easier to keep moving forward than try to make sense of the past.
***
It was a quiet Saturday night, and I expected Juliet home at any minute. I was watching TV in sweats and an old band t-shirt that I had bought in my mid-teens at my first concert. The memories I had of my teenage years were distant and selective; the only teenage memories that mattered were of when I was 18 and 19. I heard the front door open and close and I listened to see if Juliet had brought anyone home with her.
"Hey, Mom! I'm gonna change really quick," Her voice came from the direction of her bedroom, and I heard the door shut quietly.
A couple minutes later Juliet nearly skipped into the living room, a smile plastered on her beaming face.
"Did you have a good night, bug?" I asked as I turned the volume down and Juliet snuggled into the opposite side of the couch.
"Best night EVER," She continued smiling, "Have I told you about Tyler yet?"
"I think I've heard his name a few times, but nothing too in depth," I smirked, knowing I was in for story.
"Well, he's this amazing guy. He's tall and tan and oh my gosh you wouldn't believe how cute he is!" She gushed.
I laughed lightly, "And?"
"I went to see his band play tonight and they were SO good. Then afterward he took me out to get some pizza and we went to the park and... Mom? What's wrong?" Her face suddenly dropped as she saw the look on mine.
"You said he's in a band?" I couldn't force myself to smile.
"Yeah... What's wrong?" Her face took on a puzzled look.
"Nothing. Do you want something to drink?" I pushed myself off the couch and walked to the kitchen.
I couldn't ruin her seventeen-year-old dreams, no matter what had happened in my past. She followed behind me and kept her questions up.
"Mom, do you think he's using me to get to you or something? I haven't told him you work for a record label, I swear," Her voice had taken on a worried tone.
"No, that's not it, honey," I shook my head filled the kettle with water.
"Then what's the problem? He's a really nice guy, I-"
"Juliet, it's nothing. Really. I'm glad you've found a nice guy. He sounds very sweet," I told her, setting the kettle on the stove and turning the heat on high.
"Mom, I know that something's wrong. If you're afraid I'm going to get hurt or something, I understand."
I placed my hand on Juliet's cheek, "Honey, I want you to be happy. Getting hurt is part of life. It's part of getting involved with any guy," I smiled, "I have to let you experience everything without getting involved."
I dropped my hand and made my way to the cupboard.
"Believe it or not, Mom, I can tell when something's actually wrong. Why can't you just tell me the real reason?"
I shook my head and took down two mugs.
"Hot chocolate or tea?" I asked, rifling through the packets.
"Is it about Dad?" She asked quietly.
I dropped my hands and looked into the eyes that matched my own. I had to make a decision: tell my daughter the whole truth about her father, or wait even longer to tell her.
"Whatever it is, I can handle it," I could see her eyes start to dance at the thought of finding out details about the father she never knew.
"Honey, I don't..." I took a deep breath, shaking my head.
"Please..." She pleaded in a voice I rarely heard.
I looked up at her and made a decision, "Okay... I think it's time you knew about this anyway..."
"Oh, Mom! You don't know how long I've waited for you to say that!" The grin that had disappeared minutes ago suddenly reappeared.
***
"I'm not really sure where to start..." We walked back into the living room, mugs in hand, and sat down on the couch again.
"Start at the beginning," She laughed.
"That sounds good," I smiled.