I shall call it Bob!
Alison, How could you?
A day passed, and I had told Billie Joe, Claudia and Frankito about Theresa.
"So you have another daughter?" Ramona says slowly.
"Yeah."
"And how come I haven't known about her till now?"
"Because I just found out." I try to explain.
"Well tell me about her?"
"She's a fifteen year old punk rocker and she's on the verge of a teenage rebellion. Oh and did I mention despite the fact we met yesterday for the first time, she's a mini-me!" I say clearly. "And I made the mistake of telling her about your tattoo."
"Why? Now she wants one?"
"Yeah."
"So did you find out why you only found out about her now?"
"No, I didn't get a chance to talk to Ali yet."
"Well what are you waiting for?"
"Just trying to get my thoughts together so I don't make a blundering idiot of myself."
"That's a good plan Dad." She says cheekily, "Does she call you Dad?"
"No, she started calling me Frank!"
"I mock you."
"Yeah because Ali didn't tell her I was Tre Cool, but I set her straight and now she calls me Tre."
"What's her name?"
"Theresa, well Reese."
"Cool, wait don't Mike and Billie call you Therese when you dress in drag?"
"Umm yeah, Ali was the one who started calling me Therese."
"So in a funky way she named her after you."
"Yeah that's what I'm thinking."
"Wait, so she's the same age as Jakob?"
"Uhh yeah, older by six months though."
"Ahh okay. Well are you going to call her?"
"Uhh yeah, wish me luck?"
"Good luck Dad."
"Right, I'll talk to you later."
"Alright, bye." She hangs up the phone.
I pick up the piece of paper I recopied Ali's phone number on and dial it. It rings exactly three times before she picks it up.
"Alison Trawny speaking."
"Ali, it's Frank Wright."
"Tre?!"
"No Frank, that's what my name isn't it?"
"Tre you have to understand, do you think she'd believe me if I told her that her father is a friggin rock star."
"Well you could've stuck around, maybe inform me I have another daughter."
"Tre, I can't talk now, I'm at work!" she hisses, "Listen, I have my lunch break in about half and hour so you can meet me at the café on the corner of Clark and St. Alban's okay?"
"Yeah, fine." I mutter as I hang up the phone. I knew that could've gone better.
I leave the house soon after, knowing it would take me at least half an hour to get to San Francisco. I finally find this café, pretty small, quaint place. I look myself over in the mirror to make sure I look my best, not sure why though. I get out of Blueberry and head inside this café. I sit at one of the tables near a window and wait for Ali. I wonder if I'll recognize her, and if she'll recognize me. I wait earnestly then I see her come inside the café, she hasn't aged much, she looks great. Last time I saw her she had blond hair, but now it's a medium brown, I think it suites her better. I stand up so she'll see me.
"Ali." I say calmly, she turns around and sees me, she smiles and walk over.
"Hi Tre." She says as we take our seats.
"I think I'll cut to the chase." I say not wanting to deal with awkward chit chat, "Why didn't you tell me I had a daughter, and why did you just leave like that?" she sighs.
"I'm going to tell you everything, but if you interrupt me, I'm walking out of the café."
"Alright."
"Well, where to start? Okay well when I found out I was pregnant I freaked out, we'd only been going out three months, and you were on tour half the time. I remembered that when you found Lisea was pregnant with Ramona you married her to do the right thing. I looked at the situation and I didn't want end up in a dead end marriage just because you knocked me up." I'm tempted to bitch at her for keeping Reese a secret but I remember the agreement, "I know I fucked up, I should've ended the relationship and told you I was pregnant. I was scared, not only of becoming a mom but you're in a band I didn't want to be in the friggin spotlight of tabloids saying you left me and our unborn child and shit like that. I didn't want Theresa to live a life of tabloids; I just wanted her to grow as a normal kid, with no worries of finding her face on Star magazine. Can you understand that?"
"I guess. I'm still pissed though."
"I know, and I'm so fucking sorry."
"Can I know something?"
"Sure."
"Did you name Theresa after me?" she nods.
"I wanted her to have a bit of her father."
"Thanks I guess." A cell phone jingle is heard loud and clear.
"Sorry I need to take this." She mumbles as she puts her phone to her ear. "Alison Trawny speaking.... Alright, I'll be right there."
"Everything alright?"
"Uhh yeah, just a big project at work, and yet another thing has gone wrong." She says shoving her purse back in her bag, "I'll see you around."
"Alright bye." I say standing up.
"Oh! I nearly forgot, Reese is making spaghetti tomorrow, she wants you to come for dinner around seven."
"Alright, I'll be there." I say happily, "And Ali."
"Yeah?"
"You look great as a brunette." She smiles.
"Thanks." And then she's gone out the door.
"So you have another daughter?" Ramona says slowly.
"Yeah."
"And how come I haven't known about her till now?"
"Because I just found out." I try to explain.
"Well tell me about her?"
"She's a fifteen year old punk rocker and she's on the verge of a teenage rebellion. Oh and did I mention despite the fact we met yesterday for the first time, she's a mini-me!" I say clearly. "And I made the mistake of telling her about your tattoo."
"Why? Now she wants one?"
"Yeah."
"So did you find out why you only found out about her now?"
"No, I didn't get a chance to talk to Ali yet."
"Well what are you waiting for?"
"Just trying to get my thoughts together so I don't make a blundering idiot of myself."
"That's a good plan Dad." She says cheekily, "Does she call you Dad?"
"No, she started calling me Frank!"
"I mock you."
"Yeah because Ali didn't tell her I was Tre Cool, but I set her straight and now she calls me Tre."
"What's her name?"
"Theresa, well Reese."
"Cool, wait don't Mike and Billie call you Therese when you dress in drag?"
"Umm yeah, Ali was the one who started calling me Therese."
"So in a funky way she named her after you."
"Yeah that's what I'm thinking."
"Wait, so she's the same age as Jakob?"
"Uhh yeah, older by six months though."
"Ahh okay. Well are you going to call her?"
"Uhh yeah, wish me luck?"
"Good luck Dad."
"Right, I'll talk to you later."
"Alright, bye." She hangs up the phone.
I pick up the piece of paper I recopied Ali's phone number on and dial it. It rings exactly three times before she picks it up.
"Alison Trawny speaking."
"Ali, it's Frank Wright."
"Tre?!"
"No Frank, that's what my name isn't it?"
"Tre you have to understand, do you think she'd believe me if I told her that her father is a friggin rock star."
"Well you could've stuck around, maybe inform me I have another daughter."
"Tre, I can't talk now, I'm at work!" she hisses, "Listen, I have my lunch break in about half and hour so you can meet me at the café on the corner of Clark and St. Alban's okay?"
"Yeah, fine." I mutter as I hang up the phone. I knew that could've gone better.
I leave the house soon after, knowing it would take me at least half an hour to get to San Francisco. I finally find this café, pretty small, quaint place. I look myself over in the mirror to make sure I look my best, not sure why though. I get out of Blueberry and head inside this café. I sit at one of the tables near a window and wait for Ali. I wonder if I'll recognize her, and if she'll recognize me. I wait earnestly then I see her come inside the café, she hasn't aged much, she looks great. Last time I saw her she had blond hair, but now it's a medium brown, I think it suites her better. I stand up so she'll see me.
"Ali." I say calmly, she turns around and sees me, she smiles and walk over.
"Hi Tre." She says as we take our seats.
"I think I'll cut to the chase." I say not wanting to deal with awkward chit chat, "Why didn't you tell me I had a daughter, and why did you just leave like that?" she sighs.
"I'm going to tell you everything, but if you interrupt me, I'm walking out of the café."
"Alright."
"Well, where to start? Okay well when I found out I was pregnant I freaked out, we'd only been going out three months, and you were on tour half the time. I remembered that when you found Lisea was pregnant with Ramona you married her to do the right thing. I looked at the situation and I didn't want end up in a dead end marriage just because you knocked me up." I'm tempted to bitch at her for keeping Reese a secret but I remember the agreement, "I know I fucked up, I should've ended the relationship and told you I was pregnant. I was scared, not only of becoming a mom but you're in a band I didn't want to be in the friggin spotlight of tabloids saying you left me and our unborn child and shit like that. I didn't want Theresa to live a life of tabloids; I just wanted her to grow as a normal kid, with no worries of finding her face on Star magazine. Can you understand that?"
"I guess. I'm still pissed though."
"I know, and I'm so fucking sorry."
"Can I know something?"
"Sure."
"Did you name Theresa after me?" she nods.
"I wanted her to have a bit of her father."
"Thanks I guess." A cell phone jingle is heard loud and clear.
"Sorry I need to take this." She mumbles as she puts her phone to her ear. "Alison Trawny speaking.... Alright, I'll be right there."
"Everything alright?"
"Uhh yeah, just a big project at work, and yet another thing has gone wrong." She says shoving her purse back in her bag, "I'll see you around."
"Alright bye." I say standing up.
"Oh! I nearly forgot, Reese is making spaghetti tomorrow, she wants you to come for dinner around seven."
"Alright, I'll be there." I say happily, "And Ali."
"Yeah?"
"You look great as a brunette." She smiles.
"Thanks." And then she's gone out the door.