It Takes Someone Special to be a Dad
The truth
I groaned to myself, as I saw the familiar white Ford Focus parked outside my house, the following day.
‘That woman never gives up.’ I thought glumly and made my way up the garden path. My only hope was that my aunt had left Sarah at home today, or she would be taking her daughter home in a match box.
“Holly!” Mom called the second my foot hit the inside of our house. I frowned and shoved my bad down as I closed the door with my foot.
“Hey mom.” I called back and was about to head off to the kitchen and get a drink, when her voice cut through the air again.
“Could you come here, now, please?” She asked.
“Thanks for letting me get in, mom!” I called back sarcastically and wandered into the living room.
“No Sarah?” I asked Sophia as I flopped onto the sofa. She smiled softly and shook her head.
“She doesn’t have the right to treat you like that, and she doesn’t have the right to hear about your father.” Sophia said. I nodded slowly and looked at my mom, whose face was extremely pale. I knew she was really nervous about bringing up the past, but I needed to hear it from her.
“Mom…I know you don’t want to do this…but I want…I need to know about my father.” I said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had washed over the room.
“Honey, I know…it’s just hard…I thought I loved him…I did love him…” She said quietly. Sophia stood up from the chair and sat down beside her sister.
“Mom…you don’t have to…I can…um…” I mumbled. Mom shook her head firmly and looked at me, her dark eyes staring into my lighter, hazel, ones.
“No, honey, you need to hear this from me.” She stated with a sigh, before continuing.
“My parents never really liked your father. He was everything they didn’t like, back then. He was into the dark stuff, horror movies and rock music. In their eyes, they didn’t want one of their daughter’s growing up around that. When he got me pregnant, well, that was just the icing on the cake for them. They said he was irresponsible, and I guess, at that age, we were. I spent so many nights crying, just trying to get through to them so they would listen to what I wanted for a change. They just couldn’t see. All they saw was a teenage boy who had slept with their 14 year old daughter.”
“How did you see him then?” I asked softly, feeling tears rise within myself as my mom’s eyes watered, too.
“I saw him for real, past the dark hair and pale skin. Past the rock music and passion for darkness. I looked into his eyes and saw a heart-broken father-to-be. He was pushed away by everyone but me and his younger brother. His parents saw him as irresponsible, my parents judged him on looks alone. I…It was heart-breaking to watch. Every time I saw him, I saw a little bit more break, just another crack inside that no-one else saw. He would get shouted at by both our dads, he would turn up crying and I just held him, supported him and cried with him. God, we were so young and naïve.”
The whole time she spoke, she stared blankly ahead of her and I gripped her hand like my life depended on it. I guess she did depend on the closeness; I saw the odd tear fall every now and then.
“He was starting to save money for college, at that point, but he was so selfless and gave it all to me, for you. I think it made his parents open their eyes a bit; they began to see he was serious about being there for me and facing up to the consequences like a proper father would. Even then, they still nagged him. It carried on after you were born, too. He just kept fighting through all the verbal abuse to prove he was a capable father. I could see it breaking him down, though, even when he was with you and his eyes shone with pure love, he was broken. Every time he left you, to go back to his own house, I saw him break even more. 9 times out of 10 he left in tears. It broke me, too and I confronted him.”
“Bella, maybe we should stop for a while?” Sophia asked as another tear fell from mom’s eyes. Mom shook her head violently.
“No, I need to do this.” She replied firmly, not moving her face, not moving anything to mop up her steady flow of tears.
“In the end, I couldn’t stand watching him suffer like he did. I told him that, too. Things were almost decided for us, when his parent’s told us they were moving to New York. I begged my parents, and he begged his, just so he could stay with us. In the end we all decided it would be easier for everyone, in the long run, if he left with them.”
“You mean easier for Grandma and Grandpa?” I mumbled bitterly and mom continued.
“It was hard for me, but he wrote all the time. Well, he did for a while and then they just stopped. I would write to him, but I never got a reply. That was when you were a year old, so I gave up and we lost contact altogether.”
“Holly, your grandparent’s were keeping the letters from you. Every time one came, they would take it and hide it.” Sophia said. I felt the tears fall from my eyes.
It was my grandparent’s fault. Everything was down to them; none of it was his fault.
“Holly, he gave me an e-mail address for you to have. You don’t have to take it.” Sophia said. I shook my head.
“I want to. I want to hear his side of the story. Do you have it?” I asked hopefully.
She gave me a piece of paper which read;
Vampire_Gee@msn.com
As I read it a new feeling washed over me; admiration. I admired my dad from going against his heart to make things easier for me and my mom. I didn’t hate him at all, in fact, my hate was slowly being turned to my grandparents, for making me and mom go through this.
‘That woman never gives up.’ I thought glumly and made my way up the garden path. My only hope was that my aunt had left Sarah at home today, or she would be taking her daughter home in a match box.
“Holly!” Mom called the second my foot hit the inside of our house. I frowned and shoved my bad down as I closed the door with my foot.
“Hey mom.” I called back and was about to head off to the kitchen and get a drink, when her voice cut through the air again.
“Could you come here, now, please?” She asked.
“Thanks for letting me get in, mom!” I called back sarcastically and wandered into the living room.
“No Sarah?” I asked Sophia as I flopped onto the sofa. She smiled softly and shook her head.
“She doesn’t have the right to treat you like that, and she doesn’t have the right to hear about your father.” Sophia said. I nodded slowly and looked at my mom, whose face was extremely pale. I knew she was really nervous about bringing up the past, but I needed to hear it from her.
“Mom…I know you don’t want to do this…but I want…I need to know about my father.” I said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had washed over the room.
“Honey, I know…it’s just hard…I thought I loved him…I did love him…” She said quietly. Sophia stood up from the chair and sat down beside her sister.
“Mom…you don’t have to…I can…um…” I mumbled. Mom shook her head firmly and looked at me, her dark eyes staring into my lighter, hazel, ones.
“No, honey, you need to hear this from me.” She stated with a sigh, before continuing.
“My parents never really liked your father. He was everything they didn’t like, back then. He was into the dark stuff, horror movies and rock music. In their eyes, they didn’t want one of their daughter’s growing up around that. When he got me pregnant, well, that was just the icing on the cake for them. They said he was irresponsible, and I guess, at that age, we were. I spent so many nights crying, just trying to get through to them so they would listen to what I wanted for a change. They just couldn’t see. All they saw was a teenage boy who had slept with their 14 year old daughter.”
“How did you see him then?” I asked softly, feeling tears rise within myself as my mom’s eyes watered, too.
“I saw him for real, past the dark hair and pale skin. Past the rock music and passion for darkness. I looked into his eyes and saw a heart-broken father-to-be. He was pushed away by everyone but me and his younger brother. His parents saw him as irresponsible, my parents judged him on looks alone. I…It was heart-breaking to watch. Every time I saw him, I saw a little bit more break, just another crack inside that no-one else saw. He would get shouted at by both our dads, he would turn up crying and I just held him, supported him and cried with him. God, we were so young and naïve.”
The whole time she spoke, she stared blankly ahead of her and I gripped her hand like my life depended on it. I guess she did depend on the closeness; I saw the odd tear fall every now and then.
“He was starting to save money for college, at that point, but he was so selfless and gave it all to me, for you. I think it made his parents open their eyes a bit; they began to see he was serious about being there for me and facing up to the consequences like a proper father would. Even then, they still nagged him. It carried on after you were born, too. He just kept fighting through all the verbal abuse to prove he was a capable father. I could see it breaking him down, though, even when he was with you and his eyes shone with pure love, he was broken. Every time he left you, to go back to his own house, I saw him break even more. 9 times out of 10 he left in tears. It broke me, too and I confronted him.”
“Bella, maybe we should stop for a while?” Sophia asked as another tear fell from mom’s eyes. Mom shook her head violently.
“No, I need to do this.” She replied firmly, not moving her face, not moving anything to mop up her steady flow of tears.
“In the end, I couldn’t stand watching him suffer like he did. I told him that, too. Things were almost decided for us, when his parent’s told us they were moving to New York. I begged my parents, and he begged his, just so he could stay with us. In the end we all decided it would be easier for everyone, in the long run, if he left with them.”
“You mean easier for Grandma and Grandpa?” I mumbled bitterly and mom continued.
“It was hard for me, but he wrote all the time. Well, he did for a while and then they just stopped. I would write to him, but I never got a reply. That was when you were a year old, so I gave up and we lost contact altogether.”
“Holly, your grandparent’s were keeping the letters from you. Every time one came, they would take it and hide it.” Sophia said. I felt the tears fall from my eyes.
It was my grandparent’s fault. Everything was down to them; none of it was his fault.
“Holly, he gave me an e-mail address for you to have. You don’t have to take it.” Sophia said. I shook my head.
“I want to. I want to hear his side of the story. Do you have it?” I asked hopefully.
She gave me a piece of paper which read;
Vampire_Gee@msn.com
As I read it a new feeling washed over me; admiration. I admired my dad from going against his heart to make things easier for me and my mom. I didn’t hate him at all, in fact, my hate was slowly being turned to my grandparents, for making me and mom go through this.