Around Our Heads

The only problem is that after I saw my mom again, the burning desire to get back in touch with my family didn’t go away. My mom didn’t call me, and I guess I shouldn’t have expected her to. It also wasn’t that I wanted to talk to my brother or my sister because we were never very close either. The thing that still bothered me the most was that I wasn’t close enough with anyone to have them walk me down the aisle. I considered asking Zig anyway, but I figured he’d think it was weird. Same with Larry or one of the nerds. I didn’t have anyone in a father figure like fashion, and if I chose one of the nerds, the other two would get mad, and I’d end up walking down the aisle with the three of them.

As crazy as it sounded, I wanted to speak to my biological father. I’d been thinking about him a lot. He came to see me once before Chris and I started seeing each other officially. But I’d never given him a chance to talk. I just sort of went ballistic and freaked out about it. I could never forgive him for what he’d done. But he’d tried to contact me before. Maybe there was something he needed to tell me. And I mean—maybe there were some genetic illnesses I should know about.

When I told Chris about this idea, he just looked at me blankly and said, “Are you sure you want to do that?” I nodded vigorously.

“Yeah—I’m sure.”

“The last time you saw him, you kind of wigged out.”

“I think it’ll be easier on me this time. If I’m prepared for it.” He winced.

“But you’re doing so good, Marley. We’re happy. You’re not afraid anymore or—self-conscious.” I nodded.

“I know. I just—want some answers, I guess. I want to know why he tried to come talk to me. He knows I exist, which means my mom must have told him. I don’t want a relationship with him. But I think I deserve to know something. As a father, you can understand.” He nodded slowly.

“You’re an easy person to love, Marley. I’m just nervous. We don’t really know much about this guy at all. What if he wants to get to know Avery or get more involved in your life? What if we can’t trust him?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed heavily.

“I’m going with you,” he decided.

“I can do this on my own,” I said. He gave me a stern look.

“I’m going with you,” he repeated.

“Fine, fine. You can come with me.”

Since Avery Johnson was the man on my birth certificate, I didn’t know my biological father’s name. I thought about calling my mom and asking her, but I was pretty sure she’d just hang up on me, and I’d never hear from her again. So instead, I tried to do some research at the library. I looked up records from the newspaper during the time I should have been conceived. I didn’t find anything. This completely baffled me, so I decided to take my research home to the internet to search the entire county. Somebody would have to mention something, right? There was nothing.

So finally, after two weeks of searching, I decided to take my research to the police department in Napa. I went to their hall of records and right to the woman at the desk.

“Can I help you?” she asked me.

“Hi, um—I was wondering if you could help me find some sort of—record—of something,” I asked. She looked at me like I was stupid.

“What’s it for?”

“Well—I’m trying to hunt down my biological father. I’m looking for the files charged against him, so I can find his name.”

“What was he charged with?”

“Sexual assault.” The next look she gave me was one of pity.

“Who filed the charges?” she asked me.

“Cecile Johnson,” I told her.

“How many years ago was this?”

“About twenty-eight or twenty-nine years.”

“Where were they filed?”

“I thought Napa, but I couldn’t find anything in the newspaper archives.”

“I’ll see if I can find something for you. Give me a few minutes.”

“Thank you.” She scooted her chair away from me and went to a computer. I waited patiently for a few minutes as she clicked away on her computer.

“There’s nothing here for a Cecile Johnson,” she told me. “Hate to break it to you, hon. But your mother has never filed an assault charge.” I looked at her, confused.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Positive,” she replied. “Not here or in any other state. There are a few minor charges she’s filed for small claims. Hit-and-run four years ago. She has a fairly clean record.” I nodded slowly.

“Hmm—well, thanks anyway.”

“No problem, hon. But listen—Just because there aren’t charges, that doesn’t mean anything, okay? A lot of assault cases never get filed. Or mysteriously ended up missing.” I nodded again.

“Yeah—I mean—I could have asked her, but it’s obviously a touchy subject.”

“I get it. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Thanks.”