by Kirby Elaine
“Who was my father?”
“Your father is a good man. He does good things around the world for all sorts of people. That’s why I loved him.”
“Is a good man?”
“I don’t know him to have passed. I’d say, with his personality, he’s still traveling the world doing good deeds in the name of his church.”
“Can you tell me about him; what’s his name? What does he look like?”
“He had eyes as blue as the purest ocean. That’s the first thing I saw when I met him. I was doing volunteer work with my college and there he was carrying trash bags to a dumpster. He glanced at me and his eyes pierced my soul and broke my heart at the same time. And when we finally talked I knew I would be shunned from my family for loving a white man. I knew it but it didn’t stop me. And when we found out about you, we both freaked out. We were two college students from opposite worlds. I had broken family laws to be with him and he was ready to give up his life to take care of me and what did I do? I let my father convince me that my only option was to give you away. So I did and I have thought about you ever since.”
I was shocked as images washed through my head. My stomach churned.
“Who was he, Amita? What was his name?”
“He swore that things would be okay even if I did let you go. He swore that you’d have real parents to love you that no matter what he would see that you were alright. And I trusted him to see to that because you were his little blue eyed angel. Those blue eyes of yours haunted me in my sleep for years. I spent so much of my time wondering how you were and—.”
“Who is he? Tell me!” I was crying shaking my head knowing that I had been in contact with my biological dad most of my childhood.
Amita just shook her head and continued her rambling. I left. I had to leave. I had to get Abi’s house and search those albums. I bolted from the room and down the hall. Abi caught up with me grabbing my arm and pulling me to a stop.
“I shouldn’t have come here. You were right she is crazy. Let’s go back to the house.” I cried. And Abi didn’t ask questions, he just drove with me in silence to his house. I thought my head was going to explode. I felt so betrayed and lied to. My own mother and father had spent their lives covering up my true identity.
I broke into a sprint through Abi’s house. I searched the dining room and living room crying.
“Where are the albums Abhishek? Where are all her photo albums?”
“Her what?”
“The albums, the scrapbooks, where are they?”
“In there.” He pointed to a small bedroom off of the kitchen. I hadn’t noticed the room before. I hadn’t paid attention when he grabbed the album earlier. I opened the door to the room and looked around at a wall full of books.
“Is there is rhyme or reason to the way these things are organized?”
“No, why? What are you looking for?”
“A picture of my father, my birth father.’”
“I don’t think they’d be in there.”
“Have you heard how she speaks of him? He was the love of her life. If he was important to her, their life together is in these books, I have to find the answers, I have to know who he is.”
“You look as if you already know. The look on your face when you left, like you’d seen a ghost.”
“I’m hoping what I think isn’t right because I don’t want to feel robbed. I don’t think I could forgive my parents if he is my father. I wouldn’t know how to forgive them.”
I ripped the first book of the shelf and began flipping through it. Abi left the room and returned with a bottle of wine and glasses. He sat the glasses down on the floor and poured us both wine before grabbing a handful of books from the shelf and settling them on the floor in front of me.
“Now tell me, what am I looking for?”
“You’re looking for him!” I said showing him the picture I had on my phone of the man holding me as a toddler.
“Okay.” He said picking up the first book. He paused. “Are you alright?”
“I’ll be fine once I know if this man is my father.” I closed the first album and tossed it to the side.
Michael
“Michael. It’s great to see you again.” Dr. Khan said once I sat in the chair across from her.
“I thought I was done with regular therapy, honestly.”
“We all know that therapy is a process. You of all people know this. And condolences on your father, is that what bought you here today.” She said switching from friend to psychiatrist in point two seconds.
“I promised myself and my wife that I would continue therapy after rehab. You know I don’t trust many doctors. So if I have to drive to Baltimore once a week, I’ll do it.” I smiled and crossed my ankle over my knee leaning back in the comfortable chair.
“Has you father’s death uncovered any buried feelings, feeling from your childhood.”
“Diving in deep right off the bat, huh?”
“That’s what you pay me for, I won’t waste your hour with foolery. You know me way better than that.”
“Yeah, yeah. What was the question?” I shifted in my seat. “Oh yeah, my father’s passing. I miss the man. It feels strange because I didn’t speak to him often but there was the fact that I could pick up my phone and know he would be there if I did call. And now he’s gone and I don’t think that feeling will ever set in.”
“With your mother, do you remember how long that took?”
“No, I don’t remember the day when I woke up and realized she was gone.”
“I went through your files; my father was meticulous with his notes. Seven years Michael, just before your twenty-first birthday. You came in a said to him,” she flipped the scribed notes of the session. “You said ‘my mother is really gone, my Dad started dating again and I realized the twin’s, their mother is gone and that my mother was gone too. I can’t believe he could love someone else.’”
“Wow. I can’t believe I said that. I mean it took a long time and I still miss her every day.”
“Of course you do. Accepting their passing is not the same as forgetting who they were. No one will forget your father. He was a powerful yet somehow, very likable man who leaves behind a large and wonderful family.”
“So how do I accept this quicker? How do I get over it?”
“There’s no easy way, Michael. No quick fix. You have to just remember that he’s gone. He isn’t going to answer the phone when you call. Go ahead, call him.”
“What?”
“Pick up your phone and call his cell phone. Just try it.” She said.
I did. I went to the contact in my phone and looked at the image of my father before hitting the green icon. I sat frozen as the phone went straight to voicemail.
“You’ve reached the voicemail of Michael Scott Senior. Leave me a message. If I like ya I just might call you back, if I don’t then you know why.” My father said with a chuckle. Those few words broke the flood gates wide open as I clenched my phone. I ended the call but hit the talk but again and again and Dr. Khan said nothing. After thirty minutes of pressing redial and hearing my father’s voice I was winded. I had found that I had made my way to the floor and the chair I was previously in was the only thing holding me up. Dr. Khan was watching me intently. Eventually, when the tears had stopped and I had realized that my father was indeed gone she pried the phone from my hands and stood as I brought myself to my feet. My legs wanted to buckle under me but I wouldn’t let them.
“I’ll see you next week, Michael.” She said with a hand on my back. “This was progress. It was a tough pill to swallow but know that it means that you have broken down that wall and now the healing can begin.”
“Thanks.” I left the office feeling like my heart was ripped from my chest. All of the color and sound had drained from the world as I started my car and pulled out of the garage and headed home. I closed my eyes when I reached a red light. My mind drifted and saw my father; he was tall and his dark hair was
peppered after years of board meetings and spoiled children, his mustache forever concealing his upper lips and a smile that went all the way to his eyes. It was often a bit crooked like ours.
A horn blared and bought me back to reality as I moved forward with traffic. I wasn’t going to forget those things, those were the things I had forgotten about my mother. I couldn’t close my eyes and see her as vividly anymore and I didn’t want that to happen with the memories of my father too.
Krishna
We had been through eight of two dozen albums and scrapbooks. I was tired and just wanted an answer.
“Look!” Abi said. He had taken to pacing the room and sipping his wine while he flipped through the books. Occasionally he sat beside me and told me stories of the people and events in the photos.
“Is it him?” I stood as he stared at the photo.
“No. I think it’s you.” He handed the book off to me. I stared at it. It was me. The child in the picture was not a newborn, was not the week old that I was when I was given up. The kid in the picture was standing, holding onto a chair and smiling at the camera. I flipped the page and there was another of the same child wearing the same red dress and smiling as she appeared to be taking her first steps. The opposite page showed the girl, older, with a blue ribbon in her hair, her face covered in cake and the candle which was out of focus atop the cake was the number two. Picture after picture of this same child growing and changing, of me growing and changing. When I got to the last page I cried knowing that Amita was watching my life through photos.
“There has to be another album, I was about fourteen in that photo. There have to be more and if she has all these photos there is something here with his name on it, something that tells me who he is.
“Like this?” Abi held up an envelope. “It must have fallen from the book.”
“Open it, read it!” I sat with Abi on the floor as he unfolded the letter.
“It’s from your father. You should read it.” He said handing me the paper.
“Dear Amita,
It’ll be a while before I send another picture. I’ve been holding onto this for too long. Holding onto thoughts of you and thoughts of our daughter and hopes that someday she would know me as I know her and that can never happen. I can’t put my life on hold anymore. I know that it is harder for you and that photos don’t suffice when I’ve gotten to hold her, see her firsts and be a part of her milestones and that was something I wanted for us. I wanted us to be a real family. But, instead I have to remind myself everyday that she is not really my daughter, that I am not her father. And it kills me, it kills me to keep this secret from her but it’s what I have to do for both my sanity and hers. I’m going away for a while. I’m a doctor without borders who hasn’t left North America in fourteen years. I have to do this for me. And eventually I have to get married and have my own children and carry on my life as you have. And that isn’t to say that I have hard feelings about your happiness but you have not had to endure what I have. I would trade the ease of your transition in life for my misery. I hope you know that she is much loved and that my sister and her husband are the best parents I could have found for Krishna because I would have never been able to raise her on my own. Not as a clueless, broke, med student. I’m coming to terms with being Uncle Henry and I think time away will do me good.
Best wishes to you,
Henry”
“Your uncle?” Abi broke the silence.
“My uncle.” I heaved.
“How did you know it was him if she didn’t tell you?” Abi folded the letter and stuffed it into the envelope.
“She talked about his eyes and how he traveled the world to do good.” I laughed. “Good ole distant Uncle Henry.”
“Are you going to get in contact with him?”
“I haven’t heard from him in years. The last time I saw him was at my parent’s funeral. And then he hung around a bit and got their things squared away. After that he hugged me goodbye. He called a few times and eventually he stopped calling.” I looked through my contacts on my phone. “I can call my grandparents.” I stared at the number.
“His parents?”
“Yes, they haven’t been the best at communicating with me either. They live in Quebec, they don’t keep in touch either.”
I hit the talk button and the other end rang. I expected many things but I didn’t expect that familiar voice to answer the phone.
“Cloutier residence.” He said. It had been ages since I heard his voice.
“Uncle Henry, it’s me.”
“Krishna?” He said in a low voice. I could hear the relief in his voice.
“Yeah, it’s me.” I said. I fought back tears. His voice was so comforting. “I need to see you.”
“So you’ve finally discovered my secret, aye?” He huffed. “I can actually say I’m a bit relieved. Where are you? I’m visiting your grandparents in Quebec. I’ll be home in the states in a week. I’m living in Maryland.”
“Maryland? I’m in D.C.”
“Been there for about six years now, I have citizenship now. I’m researching at Johns Hopkins in between trips abroad.”
“Still a saint, I see.”
“Well, there’s not much else to do with my life. I have to go but call me next week, I’d love to see you, sit down and talk.”
“Okay.” I said noting the ease in his voice. He just found out that I know he is my father yet he sounded so collected. I didn’t get that trait of his.
I hung up the phone and looked up at Abi who was filing the books back away on the shelf.
“So I guess you’re leaving then?” Abi smiled putting the last of the books away.
“I guess so. But I’ll be back. I hope you don’t feel like this changes anything between us. I wanted answers but I also want a relationship with you. But I miss my husband and children and I have to meet with my uncle in a few days.”
“Stay another day. I wanted to show you something.”
“Okay.” I smiled standing to embrace my brother. “Thank you, Abhishek. Thanks for everything.”
“You’re my sister. Nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” He let me go and I left the room and headed for my bedroom. After throwing my few things into my suitcase I called my husband.
Michael
“Krishna. It’s so good to hear your voice; it’s been a rough day.”
“Tell me about it. How are the kids?”
“They’re good. About to tuck them in, in a bit. How are things up there?”
“A lot to take in. My Uncle Henry—”
“Your mother’s brother, the doctor?” Michael asked.
“Yeah, well, I talked to him today. He’s my father, Michael. I don’t know what the story is but he’s my biologically father.”
“You’re kidding me. And he had every opportunity to tell you and hasn’t said a word?”
“I don’t know why. But apparently he’s living right next door, doing research at JHH and has been for quite some time.”
“Wow.” I sucked in a breath. “Not the conclusion I was expecting at all.” I laughed.
“What’s so funny?” She questioned as I examined our lives.
“Us. Our stories. I’m the mix breed result of an affair and apparently you are too.” I laughed again.
“Hey! Don’t call me a mix breed, I prefer mutt.” Krishna burst into a warm hardy laughter that echoed in my ear. “We are definitely meant to be.”
“Sure are.” I said missing her more than ever. “I guess this means you’re heading home?”
“Not just yet. Abi wants to show me something. I’ll fly home the day after tomorrow. Pick me up at the airport?”
“Yes. Of course. I love you, Krishna.”
“I love you too, Michael. See you in two days. I’ll send my flight info.” She blew a kiss and ended the call.
I lay back with my phone against my chest. I couldn’t wait for her to come home. After diving head first into therapy and running around town with th
e kids in tow, I missed her more than ever. I realized that I was still just two weeks out from rehab and everything was a little harder to handle than usual. And usually I had my wife here to handle them with me.
After I bathed the kids and put them down I left them with the nanny to take Daniel across town to his mother’s house. I had minimal contact with Alex and she in turn had minimal contact with me for reasons we both understood. Our relationship went from great to complicated to non-existent to more complicate over the course of twelve years and now we were coming into the easy part.
“Dad, I saw grandpa.” My son said breaking the silence in the car.
“What do you mean?”
“In my room at home, I saw him standing in the corner by my dresser.”
“I think you were dreaming bud.”
“No, I wasn’t. I was wide awake. I was playing the video games and I looked up and saw him, he was smiling at me.”
“Did he scare you?”
“No. He was wearing clothes like he was going golfing and then smiled and then he disappeared.”
My heart leaped from my chest. Daniel didn’t know that his grandfather was golfing when he had his heart attack. I think it was more than a coincidence that he saw him in those clothes and I didn’t know what to say to my son. He was obviously unafraid and I didn’t want to put that fear into him.
“Daniel, if you see Grandpa, it’s a good thing. You know that right? You still get to see him even though he’s gone.” I said looking at my son, his face unchanged.
“Does that mean he’s a ghost?”
“A spirit, Daniel. He’s a good spirit that misses his family. Just like we all miss him.”
“Then why won’t he just come back?”
“It doesn’t work like that, son. We don’t get to chose when we die and we definitely can’t chose to come back, at least not in the same form, not as flesh and bone. You understand?”
“I think so. So how do I get to see him again?” He asked curiously.
