Time and Consequence

After running around the whole town of Phoenix with it being a hot summer afternoon, I finally found the toy my five year old daughter, Annabella, wanted. All I listened to in the car ride home was her giggling as she played with the doll she’s wanted since her last birthday which was four months ago, but I finally saved up enough money to buy it for her. Once we arrived home to where I was living (my parent’s basement), she fell asleep the minute I laid her down in her princess themed bed. Her nap time usually ranges around from 2-4. It was 3 o’clock now, so she would be out for an hour.

Sometimes it was painful to be around my daughter. Horrible, isn’t it? It would be so much easier if she had my eyes. While her green eyes pierce into mine, I want to just cry. They bring back such memories as to when I was madly in love with John O’Callaghan. I was stupid enough for him to get me pregnant when we were seventeen. But that was five years ago. I doubt he even remembers who I am, let alone that I carried his child for nine months.

I decided that after that the long day I’ve had, I deserved to use the laptop I never have time to use. I sat down in the living room of the small apartment that my parents made the basement into. My recent looked at pages were the three websites I always looked at. Facebook, Twitter, and my e-mail. I’m not that exciting, I don’t need to be.

I looked at Facebook first, checking some messages from my old friends. I haven’t properly hung out with them since I was sixteen. Annabella’s my life now. I didn’t respond to the messages.

Next I checked my e-mail. All spam.

I opened the Twitter tab and I scrolled down the recent tweets. A few stupid re-tweets about girl problems (why do I follow people like that again?), some pictures from Instagram, but all of this is nothing new. One tweet definitely stuck out at me. It was from Garrett Nickelsen.

Garrett Nickelsen @garrettmaine
Hello my lovely Arizona! I missed you.

This meant that their tour for the year was done. The Maine was in Arizona. John was in Arizona. Annabella’s dad was here. Why was I getting so excited over nothing? He wasn’t coming by anytime soon. I knew that he would never take up the responsibility he promised to me. He would never step up and be the father he promised to be.

The day I told him I would be carrying our child; I could tell he was scared. I was too. No one plans to have a child when they’re teenagers. The first months he was the best boyfriend anyone could ask for. Of course we haven’t told our parents yet. We didn’t even tell our friends. He was at my house every other day, the days he wasn’t with me, he was with his band members. While we were together, we would spend every moment lying in bed. He would rest his head into my stomach, trying to hear our child’s heartbeat.

“Daddy can’t wait to see you,” he would coo into my skin, my cheeks getting flustered as I felt his hot breath hitting the skin, his baby growing underneath the flesh where he spoke. His raspy voice sending chills through my body. At that moment in time, I was so jubilant that he was fathering my child. We would be the perfect little family.

When it got visible that I was in fact pregnant, we broke the news to our family and friends. My parents were disappointed, but they both agreed they would help me raise this child. John went unheard of for weeks. I would call and I would get his voicemail. I would text and I wouldn’t get replies. I would show up at his house and his parents or his brothers would say he wasn’t home. I got fed up after a while. I called one of his close friends, Eric. All of us called him Halvo, since his last name is Halvorsen. Halvo laid down the news gently, telling me that John didn’t want to be part of the baby’s life, or mine. The news was heartbreaking, but three months after that, I gave birth to our daughter. Since John refused to sign the birth certificate (he refused to even show up), my daughter took my last name. I named her Annabella Lynn Clark. Five years later, here I am. Single mother of a beautiful five year old with a big imagination.

I quickly broke out of my daydreaming when I heard a ‘ding!’ come from the speakers in my laptop. I moved from the Twitter tab to the Facebook tab. New message. I didn’t expect it. Ross O’Callaghan. Ross was one of John’s little brothers; the closest one in age to John. Shane was the youngest. I read the message over and over.

Ross O’Callaghan: Hey Noel, haven’t talked to you in a while :) How’s Annabella?

I pondered whether or not to respond, but Ross has always been nothing but nice to me. I started to type, changing what I sent to him a few times.

Noel Clark: She’s good. How are you? And I know, we haven’t talked in a long time. How’s the O’Callaghan family?

Jenny and John (John’s parents) didn’t talk to me much. I’m sure John (Annabella’s dad) had something to do with that. I know that John told Ross not to talk to me, because Ross has told me before.

Ross O’Callaghan: I’m pretty good, and we’re all good. John just came back from their tour. John’s been asking about you.

I suddenly got really angry. If he was asking about me, he could have called me. Better yet, he could come over and meet his daughter. I didn’t respond for a few minutes so I could think of a witty comment.

Noel Clark: If he’s asking about me, you can tell him he could come to my house since he knows where I live, or did he forget about me since he’s a fucking rockstar?

I reread my comment and I quickly typed again.

Noel Clark: Sorry Ross, not mad at you. Just mad at him… not trying to shoot the messenger.
I stared at my screen for a few minutes, waiting for a reply. I saw the little font at the bottom saying that he was typing.

Ross O’Callaghan: No worries, and do you want me to talk to him? Maybe I can convince him to come over and meet Annabella…

I considered it for a moment.

Noel Clark: Just give him my number and tell him to call me, please.

He shot back a quick response.

Ross O’Callaghan: Will do :)

I shut my laptop once I heard small feet walking in the next room, and then Annabella opened her bedroom door. I suddenly got a pang of regret for telling Ross to tell John to call me. Did I actually want him to be a father, or would he just run away again?