The Ghost of Memories.
My Parents Meeting.
My mother and father met on The Strip, Las Vegas, Nevada. That sounds so very, very awfully tacky and cheap and morally lowering, but, honestly, it’s not, if I explain.
My mother was twenty-three, and had a five year old daughter; my half-sister, Hannah Marie Keithson. My grandparents, whom I have never met, never knew of any of my mother’s three daughters, I was told. Paul, Hannah’s father, lived in the nearby suburbs, near my grandparents, so Jenny was visiting Hannah and her parents in the one week stay.
My father was seventeen, and my uncle Mikey was fifteen. It was a week in September, as they were in Las Vegas for a birthday treat for Mikey, away from my Nan and Bamps, who were both sat, worrying themselves sick in New Jersey. They were accompanied by Mikey’s then girlfriend, Lisa, who sadly killed herself less than a year later.
My parents met, and they got drunk. To avoid bad mental images, I’ll just leave it as I was conceived.
My mother had managed to get his phone number, so about a month later, back in New Jersey, Gerard got a call of her, saying they needed to meet up in New York. They met in a small diner, and the situation was explained to my father.
They came to an agreement, that when I was born, Gerard would have full custody of me, and my mother could come to visit if she ever wanted. Gerard was left the difficult task of explaining to his very catholic parents.
My parents had little contact during Jenny’s pregnancy. She would occasionally call at midnight in tears, saying that she wanted to die, while my father sat at the other end of the line, comforting her softly. Occasionally, Jenny would talk to him as if he were an idiot. He went to all the scans he was invited to. He never pressed her to let him go, but he waited until she asked. I think Jenny found this reassuring.
I was born, a month premature, on May the eighteenth. I had my father’s hazel eyes, and my mother’s dark red, thick hair.
Every thing went as according to plan, I guess. My mother went back to her office job in New York, and carried on as if I never happened, like it was supposed to go.
My mother was twenty-three, and had a five year old daughter; my half-sister, Hannah Marie Keithson. My grandparents, whom I have never met, never knew of any of my mother’s three daughters, I was told. Paul, Hannah’s father, lived in the nearby suburbs, near my grandparents, so Jenny was visiting Hannah and her parents in the one week stay.
My father was seventeen, and my uncle Mikey was fifteen. It was a week in September, as they were in Las Vegas for a birthday treat for Mikey, away from my Nan and Bamps, who were both sat, worrying themselves sick in New Jersey. They were accompanied by Mikey’s then girlfriend, Lisa, who sadly killed herself less than a year later.
My parents met, and they got drunk. To avoid bad mental images, I’ll just leave it as I was conceived.
My mother had managed to get his phone number, so about a month later, back in New Jersey, Gerard got a call of her, saying they needed to meet up in New York. They met in a small diner, and the situation was explained to my father.
They came to an agreement, that when I was born, Gerard would have full custody of me, and my mother could come to visit if she ever wanted. Gerard was left the difficult task of explaining to his very catholic parents.
My parents had little contact during Jenny’s pregnancy. She would occasionally call at midnight in tears, saying that she wanted to die, while my father sat at the other end of the line, comforting her softly. Occasionally, Jenny would talk to him as if he were an idiot. He went to all the scans he was invited to. He never pressed her to let him go, but he waited until she asked. I think Jenny found this reassuring.
I was born, a month premature, on May the eighteenth. I had my father’s hazel eyes, and my mother’s dark red, thick hair.
Every thing went as according to plan, I guess. My mother went back to her office job in New York, and carried on as if I never happened, like it was supposed to go.