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I'm not sure where I'm driving to, so I pull off the road for a moment. I almost want to call someone and get some kind of backup for what I'm going through right now. But who am I going to call? My friends don't know that Michael exists. My mom would think I'm selfish and stupid for not wanting to be a stepparent. I can hear her voice now saying that if you truly love him, you'll accept his child as your own. She doesn't understand that I don't want to be a mother to a kid of my own or someone else’s.
The only other person I'd call is Michael, and that’s not an option.
My phone rings and snaps me out of my thoughts. As I look at the screen, I blink a couple of times, wondering if I'm actually reading it right. The screen says “Dad” and shows his number. My heart skips several beats and my stomach drops.
Is this a joke? Is it a mistake? Is it really him?
Not willing to wait another second to find out, I answer the call. “Hello?” My voice sounds breathless and strange, like it belongs to someone else because I don’t sound like that.
“Moira, it's your dad.” As soon as he says the words, I know it's true. It's him. It's really my dad on the other end of the line.
His voice sounds familiar and foreign at the same time, like an odd mix of calm and cold. Nothing like the man that I swear I know. Relief fills me, followed by anger. Then shock leaves me numb. I don't know what to say. What do you say to someone who disappeared, completely vanished, then suddenly calls you out of the blue like nothing's wrong?
“Where have you been? Why didn't you call me?” I hear the anger and frustration in my voice as I speak.
“I guess your mother didn't tell you?” He sounds tired and frustrated.
“Didn't tell me what?” I'm glad that he sounds like he's okay and that he's safe, but I'm kind of angry that he didn't call me sooner or respond to any texts.
“Moira, there's no easy way to say this. I left your mother. I'm filing for divorce.” His words hit me like a slap in the face, and I just sit there, mouth open, staring off into space, wondering why he’d do this to her. He already stole so much of her life. Now he's just going to leave her like she’s nothing? And clearly she's in denial, saying he's just on a business trip and he'll be back soon.
He pauses after the words, as if he expects me to say something.
And oh boy, do I want to say things. Things like, screw you, and you’re trash, and no great loss for either of us.But I'm frozen and I can't say a word.
“Moira?”
“That's fine. You never contributed in a meaningful way anyway. Not as far as being a dad, not as a husband, not as a human being. It's nice to know that Mom can finally have a chance to be happy now. Have the life that you deserve.” With that, I hang up, my heart slamming in my chest, and I realize how good it felt to say the words that I've been thinking for so long.
My phone starts ringing again and it’s his number, but I ignore the call. I don't owe him anything, not even picking up the phone and having a conversation. As far as I'm concerned, he is completely dead to me and that's just fine.
My mom was miserable with him, and I never liked him. Maybe she'll finally have a chance to be happy.
With that, I pick up the phone and dial my mom's number. “Hi, honey!” she says in an upbeat voice.
“I know the truth. I just got off the phone with dad.” I don't want there to be any more lies or barriers between us, just the truth.
I hear her shocked intake of breath. Then I hear her start quietly crying. “I'm sorry, I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how, and I was so embarrassed.”
“Mom, are you okay? Are you safe? Do you need help with the bills?” I don't know what questions to ask, but I need to ask them to try to figure out how I can help her.
She cries harder. “He took everything. I have to be out of the house in a week. The bank has already foreclosed.”
“Do you want me to buy the house so you can stay there, Mom? I can do that, no problem.” My heart aches for her and the fact that she's been going through all of this alone.
“No, I don’t want to stay here.”
I don't blame her. I imagine there are a lot of painful memories. I might still buy the house, just in case I ever decide I want to walk through it again. Or in case she changes her mind. But mostly I just want her to know that I'm here for her and I’ll do anything to help her.
It doesn't even matter to me that she lied to me and tried to deceive me about my father leaving. I can understand her pain and how hard she tried to hold everything together for me. She never wanted me to come from a broken home, but I don’t blame her.
She isn't the reason he did this, even if he tries to tell himself that. He made a choice.
And while I wish she hadn't lied to me, I can understand why she might not have felt comfortable telling me the truth. It's not like we were in a good place and trusting of one another. Maybe she didn't feel like she could be honest. Heck, I have a feeling that the only reason she let me back into her life is because she needed me to take her to the ER that night.
And now that I'm back in her life, I have no plans to leave again. Because the real problem in our whole lives is gone. Talk about the trash taking itself out.
And maybe that's too harsh. He is my father, but he was never a good father, and I'm not sure he earned the title.
