Call it what you like...
telling the truth
Hi, I’m Ava. I’m almost eighteen and I live in a small town near Knoxville, in Tennessee. It’s really crap because there’s like nothing to do. I would be dead without my friends, and when it comes to Luk, I mean I would be quite literally dead without her. We’ve been friends since we were kids, and when we were ten, she quite kindly donated a kidney to me, because both of mine were failing and without a new kidney I’d have been dead within weeks. Anyway, I’ve grown up with my mom and dad, as an only child, in the same house all my life. I was home schooled until I was eleven, and then had to fight to be allowed to go to a proper school with Luk and Ellie, and I won.
I have auburn hair, and blue eyes, with a green tinge to them, sort of like aqua, and I’m told red runs through them when I’m angry. I’m 5’ 7’’ and reasonably well built for a girl.
I like any music really, but I’m not into that whole ‘new punk-pop’ shit that’s been all over the radio lately, either be proper pop, or proper punk, choose one and fucking stick with it. And now I’ll go and have a nice little cup of tea and calm down, I shouldn’t get so bloody worked up, but I love my music and hate when people screw it up.
*Ava’s pov*
Monday morning again, as much as I love to get up early and go for a run before school, this morning I just don’t want to. I want to just lie in my bed and stay there. I really don’t want to have to face a certain backstabbing asshole today. I walked down the hall to the crummy bathroom, but stopped halfway down, when I heard my parents arguing. This wasn’t right, because I can’t remember them ever fighting, a small disagreement maybe, but never an argument. I stopped outside their room and listened to what was being said,
“…Sally, you know it’s for her own good, she’s a fucking adult, she needs to know the truth.”
“No Jack, she doesn’t. We’ve lived the lie for this long, can we not just leave it, and we can answer the questions when she figures it out by herself. Please babe, I just don’t think I could talk about it now, I don’t think I’d be able to explain it.”
“Well when will you be ready for it. Ava needs to know why none of us were a match for her when she needed us most, why she’s always had that little distance from us that she has noticed. I’ve tried being a fucking father to her, and I’ve tried my damned hardest. I love that kid to death, but it’s always in the back of my mind. Ever since he turned up when she was three, every birthday, every Christmas, every fucking day when she leaves for school, I’ve been scared that he would turn up and demand her back. I don’t want to loose my little girl, not to someone that abandoned her when she was a baby.”
“But that isn’t for us to meddle in. He left her, and she’s ours. She always has been, and she always will be, please.”
“But what if we don't tell her and she finds out from someone else, and she decides that she doesn’t love us anymore, cause we lied to her for her whole life, and that she wants to go live the high life with her father, and doesn’t want to know us. I just don’t want to have to let her go, it would just be too hard, especially when we can’t have our own.”
“I know, but still, we can’t make that decision for her, can we not just leave it, I know that when she does find out, she’ll make the right decision, we’ve brought her up well.”
I stood up and balanced myself with the wall, wiped the tears from my cheeks, and walked into my parents’ room. They both stood, quite shocked, mid-sentence, and stared at me. My dad turned to me,
“Just tell me, how much did you hear?” he asked,
“All of it.” I replied coldly. “But can we go back to the start, and tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out.” He just nodded, mom started to cry, but nodded.
Dad turned to me, “okay, you want the full story?” I looked at him,
“Obviously.” I replied.
“Okay, basically, you’re not biologically our daughter, your mother and myself are unable to have our own children. Your natural mother died in childbirth, or shortly after, we’re not actually sure about how, when or why, but we know that she is no longer alive.” He paused and I let this information set in, but I didn’t say anything.
“Your father on the other hand, is very much alive. He came to us in the middle of the night seventeen years ago, in a storm. He arrived at our door clutching a bundle of blankets, with you wrapped up warm against the wind and rain. We could tell that he loved and cared for you. He said that your mother had died, and that he couldn’t look after you because his mom would disown him if he came home with a kid, and he was finishing a tour as a roadie, and heading home. He was only fourteen, fifteen tops. He told us that if we would look after you, until he found his feet, and then he would come and get you and pay us for looking after you. We, obviously, agreed, just thankful to have a child in our lives, and we didn’t see a problem with it, but when the authorities found out, we had to leave quickly, and basically run, and that’s how we ended up here, in Tennessee. Now, when you were three, he tracked us down, and claiming he had started a band that were gonna be huge, he wanted you back. He wanted you to be a part of his new life. But since he was still only 18, we refused. He said he’d be back, he didn’t know when, but he would be back. Since then we’ve been constantly looking over our shoulders, worried that one day he would just snatch you and there was nothing we could do, especially since he was right about his band, they are huge. He’s now turned from a ratty kid, to a multi-millionaire, and I thought it was time to let you know.” He finished, I nodded,
“What was his name?” I asked, clearing my throat,
“You’ve been talking this whole time, but you haven’t told me his name.” dad looked over to mom, who was sobbing in the corner the whole time,
“He’s Billie Joe Armstrong, from Green Day.” I shook my head,
“No, no, my father is not Billie Joe Armstrong. He’s not. I don’t look anything like him, he’s not, you are.” I stammered. I hate that band, and the man. I mean, I’ve read up on some of the stuff he’s done and said, and frankly, he’s a disgrace. I can’t stand his music, his songs, his personality. I’ve seen the way he acts on TV. shows, it’s ridiculous to even think that he’s my father. Dad looked at me sadly,
“As much as I would love to tell you that this is all a lie, and that I am your dad, I can’t. we’ve lied to you too much, and I don’t want to anymore. He sent us a letter last week, saying that if we didn’t agree to let him see you before you turned eighteen, he would come with the authorities.”
“but, I don’t want to see him, and anyway, he has a wife and two kids, why does he want me back. Can’t I just stay here? Please?” dad shook his head,
“nope, sorry, but he wants to see you. And I just want to let you know, you always have a home here with us, but you have to go see him.” He added. I nodded,
“When?” I asked,
“As soon as possible, to get it over and done with. Go get yourself packed and we’ll organise the flights.” I nodded and wiped the tears from my face, then got up and left the room.
I have auburn hair, and blue eyes, with a green tinge to them, sort of like aqua, and I’m told red runs through them when I’m angry. I’m 5’ 7’’ and reasonably well built for a girl.
I like any music really, but I’m not into that whole ‘new punk-pop’ shit that’s been all over the radio lately, either be proper pop, or proper punk, choose one and fucking stick with it. And now I’ll go and have a nice little cup of tea and calm down, I shouldn’t get so bloody worked up, but I love my music and hate when people screw it up.
*Ava’s pov*
Monday morning again, as much as I love to get up early and go for a run before school, this morning I just don’t want to. I want to just lie in my bed and stay there. I really don’t want to have to face a certain backstabbing asshole today. I walked down the hall to the crummy bathroom, but stopped halfway down, when I heard my parents arguing. This wasn’t right, because I can’t remember them ever fighting, a small disagreement maybe, but never an argument. I stopped outside their room and listened to what was being said,
“…Sally, you know it’s for her own good, she’s a fucking adult, she needs to know the truth.”
“No Jack, she doesn’t. We’ve lived the lie for this long, can we not just leave it, and we can answer the questions when she figures it out by herself. Please babe, I just don’t think I could talk about it now, I don’t think I’d be able to explain it.”
“Well when will you be ready for it. Ava needs to know why none of us were a match for her when she needed us most, why she’s always had that little distance from us that she has noticed. I’ve tried being a fucking father to her, and I’ve tried my damned hardest. I love that kid to death, but it’s always in the back of my mind. Ever since he turned up when she was three, every birthday, every Christmas, every fucking day when she leaves for school, I’ve been scared that he would turn up and demand her back. I don’t want to loose my little girl, not to someone that abandoned her when she was a baby.”
“But that isn’t for us to meddle in. He left her, and she’s ours. She always has been, and she always will be, please.”
“But what if we don't tell her and she finds out from someone else, and she decides that she doesn’t love us anymore, cause we lied to her for her whole life, and that she wants to go live the high life with her father, and doesn’t want to know us. I just don’t want to have to let her go, it would just be too hard, especially when we can’t have our own.”
“I know, but still, we can’t make that decision for her, can we not just leave it, I know that when she does find out, she’ll make the right decision, we’ve brought her up well.”
I stood up and balanced myself with the wall, wiped the tears from my cheeks, and walked into my parents’ room. They both stood, quite shocked, mid-sentence, and stared at me. My dad turned to me,
“Just tell me, how much did you hear?” he asked,
“All of it.” I replied coldly. “But can we go back to the start, and tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out.” He just nodded, mom started to cry, but nodded.
Dad turned to me, “okay, you want the full story?” I looked at him,
“Obviously.” I replied.
“Okay, basically, you’re not biologically our daughter, your mother and myself are unable to have our own children. Your natural mother died in childbirth, or shortly after, we’re not actually sure about how, when or why, but we know that she is no longer alive.” He paused and I let this information set in, but I didn’t say anything.
“Your father on the other hand, is very much alive. He came to us in the middle of the night seventeen years ago, in a storm. He arrived at our door clutching a bundle of blankets, with you wrapped up warm against the wind and rain. We could tell that he loved and cared for you. He said that your mother had died, and that he couldn’t look after you because his mom would disown him if he came home with a kid, and he was finishing a tour as a roadie, and heading home. He was only fourteen, fifteen tops. He told us that if we would look after you, until he found his feet, and then he would come and get you and pay us for looking after you. We, obviously, agreed, just thankful to have a child in our lives, and we didn’t see a problem with it, but when the authorities found out, we had to leave quickly, and basically run, and that’s how we ended up here, in Tennessee. Now, when you were three, he tracked us down, and claiming he had started a band that were gonna be huge, he wanted you back. He wanted you to be a part of his new life. But since he was still only 18, we refused. He said he’d be back, he didn’t know when, but he would be back. Since then we’ve been constantly looking over our shoulders, worried that one day he would just snatch you and there was nothing we could do, especially since he was right about his band, they are huge. He’s now turned from a ratty kid, to a multi-millionaire, and I thought it was time to let you know.” He finished, I nodded,
“What was his name?” I asked, clearing my throat,
“You’ve been talking this whole time, but you haven’t told me his name.” dad looked over to mom, who was sobbing in the corner the whole time,
“He’s Billie Joe Armstrong, from Green Day.” I shook my head,
“No, no, my father is not Billie Joe Armstrong. He’s not. I don’t look anything like him, he’s not, you are.” I stammered. I hate that band, and the man. I mean, I’ve read up on some of the stuff he’s done and said, and frankly, he’s a disgrace. I can’t stand his music, his songs, his personality. I’ve seen the way he acts on TV. shows, it’s ridiculous to even think that he’s my father. Dad looked at me sadly,
“As much as I would love to tell you that this is all a lie, and that I am your dad, I can’t. we’ve lied to you too much, and I don’t want to anymore. He sent us a letter last week, saying that if we didn’t agree to let him see you before you turned eighteen, he would come with the authorities.”
“but, I don’t want to see him, and anyway, he has a wife and two kids, why does he want me back. Can’t I just stay here? Please?” dad shook his head,
“nope, sorry, but he wants to see you. And I just want to let you know, you always have a home here with us, but you have to go see him.” He added. I nodded,
“When?” I asked,
“As soon as possible, to get it over and done with. Go get yourself packed and we’ll organise the flights.” I nodded and wiped the tears from my face, then got up and left the room.