Me, You

"'... It's almost irresponsible for me to contact you like this and now of all times. But, I had only found out about you just a mere three months ago.'" John's eyes widened and loudly, he shouted, "What the fu-"

I slapped a hand over his mouth to stop him. Our parents were only a floor below us, watching the D-Backs game in my living room, "Shut up, they can't know I have this letter."

"Lou, this is so fucking crazy-" He dumbly sputtered.

I pressed his lips together with my fingers. Practically hissing, I repeated, "I guess I wasn't clear enough the first time. They can't fucking know I have this letter because they still think I'm stupid enough to believe that my dad doesn't exists. Now, I'm going to remove my hand from your mouth and you will quietly read the rest of the letter, understood?"

John weakly nodded and returned to whispering the letter, "'The only way I can put this simply is this: I have cancer.'"

His breath caught, as if he was about to start choking, but I only flinched.

"'After the news of this impending doom, I was contacted by lawyer, asking if I desired to put anything down for my daughter in the will.

"'For a moment, I thought he was joking, from all the years I was married to Sophia (who in this case, is your stepmother, I suppose), she could not get pregnant. But, this daughter of mine did not have the last name of Watkins. Her last name was Collins.

"'How your mother managed to keep you a secret was beyond me. How long it took me to figure out about you is still beyond me.'" John stopped when his hands started shaking.

“Come on, John.” I groaned, “You’re the last person that’s supposed to react like this.”

“How are you not freaked out?!” He squeaked.

“Because,” I snatched the letter out of his hands, “I actually managed read it all and took time to think it through. And since you’re being such a fucking pussy, then I’ll read it.”

“Lou, this doesn’t feel right. Maybe I shouldn’t be reading it...”

“The letter says, ‘To Louise Mae Collins and whoever else reads this.’ You're not reading it, you're listening to it. You’re fine.” I scanned the letter, “He talks about how Mom broke up with him when he was hired for a job in New York, eighteen years ago. She didn’t tell him she was pregnant, so he moved on and got married.”

“A tragic love story,” He shook his head.

“This is where it gets interesting. ‘Maybe, it’s not rightfully my place to ask you to see me. I don’t expect you to want to. You’re eighteen and I can only imagine that you’ve grown up to be like your mother, independent and strong.’”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“‘But, I don’t want your first visit with me to be when I’m in my grave, Louise. I won’t get down to the science of it. My cancer returned more aggressive than ever and I almost could’ve lost my life. I am currently in the healing process of my cancer treatment. But, this scare has made me realize something. No matter how much I improve, I will never know how long I really have.’”

“What does this mean, Lou?” Our eyes met and I knew he realized exactly what it meant.

89. Meet Lou’s real dad.


We spread out a huge US map onto the Waffle House table.

With a red marker, I circled Chandler, Arizona and starred Albany, New York, “Google Maps says we should travel up Arizona and then get on Interstate 40. Then, when we reach Oklahoma City, we travel on Interstate 44. At St. Louis, we get on 55, which turns into 70. We stay on that all the way until Ohio, where we travel on 270, 71, and 271. Around Rochester is where it turns into 90. And there you go: Albany, New York.”

When I finally looked at John, he sat there, slightly dazed, “We’re out of our minds.”

“Do you still want to do this?” I asked nervously. I wanted a yes. I needed a yes. But, if there was someone that could hold me back from going to New York, it’d be John.

“When would we leave?”

“Tomorrow night, after our parents are asleep.”

He swallowed hard and pushed his long hair out of his face, “Well, we could finish the bucket list..."

I resisted the urge to jump over the table and kiss his stupid face. Grinning from ear to ear, I asked, “So we’re actually doing this, then?”

“I told you I’d travel the world to find him for you. This is a little less dramatic than what I’d hope for, but nevertheless, I’m a man of my word. Especially for my girl.” John leaned over and ruffled my hair, “But, weren’t we getting bribed with gas money by our parents a few days ago?” He rubbed the back of his neck, “We’d have to pay for gas money and everything.”

“Well, I’m broke in terms of pocket money. But, I have a debit card link to my bank account that my mom keeps for me. It was supposed to go towards college tuition. I have no use for it now.” I had no idea how much was in there. But, the minute I received the National Merit Scholarship and a full ride to Boston University, the bank account no longer had a purpose until now.

“Do you expect Caroline to hand the debit card over and let you go on a cross country trip to see your dad?”

“Of course not. You know my mom,” I scoffed, “What she doesn’t know won’t kill her and she technically can’t do anything about it since I’m 18. What about Jenny and Jay? Do you think they’ll freak out when they realize you left?”

He shrugged, “Maybe not as much when they know I’m with you.”

“We’re really doing this.” I repeated, excitedly.

“Yeah,” John rubbed his hands together and added, “We should make a list of supplies to bring on the trip.”

He borrowed a pen from the same waitress from the first night. This time, she handed him a piece of paper with it. Pushing it across the table for me, I jotted down the necessities. Music was obviously on the top of the list; the thought of listening to John’s monologue of the history of rock and roll was all unappealing in itself. We probably needed sleeping bags, seeing that getting a hotel every night wasn’t an option...

Looking up, I caught John smiling. And that night, under the dim Waffle House fluorescent lights clouded with coffee steam, something changed. Between me and John. Maybe not specifically in that moment, but looking back, that night was the start of something bigger. Bigger than the road trip or even seeing my dad.