“Alright then. Do you want to ask questions, or should I just start sharing monologue style?”
I thought for a moment or two. “Monologue style.”
“Well, I was born and raised in the countryside, not too far from here. I lived in the same neighborhood my entire life. Your mom lived in the neighborhood just across this big field.” He went on, telling me about how they met and fell in love. He talked about her. What she was like, how she was the strongest personality he’d ever known. How she was courageous and kind. He talked like he was still in love with her. He said as much.
“I still love her.”
I blurted the words before I knew what I was saying. “Why are you just now coming for me then?”
He looked me straight in the eyes. “I only found out a couple months ago that you even existed. I had no idea. If I had known earlier and was able to come, I promise you I would’ve.”
“If you guys were so in love, why didn’t you know she had a baby?”
Pat glanced at the glass pane. Probably worried about answering questions like this. I knew it was fine though. Debbie said I could do and say what I wanted. But I got a sinking feeling his answer wasn’t real good.
“Well, I spent fourteen years in prison. Got out in June, actually.” He wrung his hands in his lap a little. “I was put in prison, and your mom ran away from her family’s house before she had the chance to tell me.”
“Why were you in prison?”
“Long story. But, basically, I was a kid in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He shook his head. “Some decisions last forever, and I regret many of them.”
Do you regret me?
“Why did my mom run away?”
He answered slowly, weighing his words. “Her dad was a very violent, cruel man, and she was trying to protect you. She told me that in a letter she left for me before she died. She knew if her dad found out, he might make her—well—end her pregnancy. She was a good woman. Didn’t want that.”
The words hit me like a ton of bricks. She was trying to protect me?
My voice was tight. “And how did she die?”
He sighed, looked so sad. “She overdosed. Her life was a lot harder than any kid’s should have to be. Tried to get clean for your sake, but she couldn’t. As soon as I found her letter in September, I called. I wanted to find you. Your mom wanted me to find you, too.” He wiped a tear. “She wanted me to make sure you were okay, happy, and taken care of. You haveno ideahow happy I am to see you.”
I blinked. I had two parents who cared about me? It even seemed like Pat maybe loved me. He didn’t even know me.
Those stupid tears again. I sniffled, tried to keep them from falling out. The silence hung around us like fog. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t. Didn’t know what to say. I felt paralyzed with a feeling I’d never felt before.
My parents wanted me all along.
I don’t know. I think kids who don’t know their parents do one of two things—romanticize them and think they must be the best people on God’s green earth and yearn after them like a kitten for milk, or they hate them and think they must be trash. I’ve fallen in the second category. When your mom gives you away at birth, you think she was selfish. When you have been through so much pain, you wonder if your parents are out there having a nice life without you.
But my mom ran away from home to protect me. My dad took action to find me. I didn’t know what to do with that information.
What would happen to me now?
I suddenly got the feeling I was upstream from something big. Something life changing.
I reached for a tissue, dabbed my eyes, and wrapped it around my stinging finger.
Pat tapped his thighs, switching gears. “Okay, your turn Sunny. I pick questions.”
His eagerness made me smile.
“Full name this time. Age. Most hated food. Favorite snack.”
“Sunny River Mason. I’m thirteen. I hate mushrooms. And I love goldfish crackers.” He nodded, soaking in every word I said. I sent a question right back. “What’s your most hated food?”
“Anything they serve in prison.”
