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Mibba

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Where I Belong

Chapter 1

No one ever tells you how completely terrifying meeting your parents for the first time is. Maybe that’s because most people meet their parents on the day they’re born, that’s the way it’s supposed to be, right? You grow up with your parents by your side, always cheering you on; always on your side… that’s not how I grew up. I didn’t have a horrible childhood; I was loved. I had my mum, grandpa, aunts and my cat, Celine, and I was happy, I just never had a dad. Mum didn’t talk about him much, just says that he was some guy she dated in her twenties and he left before she had the chance to tell him that she was pregnant. She doesn’t blame him, he broke her heart though, she always says that she loved him a lot more than he loved her. We got on fine without him, I suppose you have to when you have no other option, but I always felt like there was something missing; I would see all of the other kids at school with their dads always there to pick them up when something went wrong. Sure, I had grandpa and I’m so grateful that he stepped up to help mum, but it just wasn’t the same. So when I was seven, I made myself a promise that when I turned eighteen, I would track him down, my father, and I would finally meet him… and that brings me to where I am now: three years after my eighteenth birthday, stood on the pavement in the freezing mid-December snow outside number six Park Drive in Towson, Baltimore. It took me longer than I anticipated to track him down, but here I am, ready to meet my dad. I don’t know how long I’ve been stood here, an hour maybe? I had it all planned out in my head, what I would say, how I would smile, but now that I’m here I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. What are you supposed to say to the father you’ve never met?

By some otherworldly act of courage, I manage to pick my feet up and walk through the gate and up to the door. I knock three times. I’m stood there for what feels like hours and I’m about to either knock again or run away when the door swings open and I’m stood face-to-face with the man who must be my father. He’s taller than I expected, with greying brown hair and green eyes with flecks of brown, just like mine. I realise that I’m staring and clear my throat.
“Jason Hart?” I ask, my voice as shaky as I feel.
“Yes. How can I help you, dear?” He looks concerned, maybe he thinks that I’m here to try ask for money.
“Um, I’m Jessica Nash. My mother is Tracy Nash, you knew her when she was in her twenties, actually you were in a relationship with her but, uh, you left her and she never had the chance to tell you that um…” I speak fast, as if my whole life depends on me saying what I have to say in under twenty seconds. He looks confused, really confused, I start to wonder if I have the wrong Jason Hart.
“I’m sorry, what are you trying to say?” He says, not unkindly. Oh no, this is all going wrong, so wrong.
“She never had the chance to tell you that I’m your daughter” I blurt. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, he just stares at me. At first he looks confused, and then angry, then he smiles and then looks confused again. Finally he breathes out a big sigh and runs a hand through his hair.
“Well I don’t know what to say... are you sure?” I don’t blame him for being uncertain, I nod and pull a slip of paper out of my pocket. It’s a picture of Jason and my mum when they first got together. He takes it and stares at it for a few seconds, then looks up at me, then back at the picture before looking at me again, really looking at me, I can feel him studying my face, trying to work out if I really am his daughter.
“I’m sorry you’ve really caught me off guard” he laughs nervously. It puts me at ease to know that he’s just as nervous as I am. “Would you like to come in?” he offers. I nod and he stands aside to let me in before closing the door behind me.
“Here let me take your coat, you can leave your shoes just by the door” He helps me out of my coat and I kick my shoes off before following him through to the kitchen. There are a lot of photos in the hallway, mostly of Jason with a woman and a little boy who looks to be around eight.
“Is this your son?” I ask, pointing to one of the pictures of Jason with the boy.
“Yeah that’s Alex, he’s twenty now though, that’s his mother there.” He points to one of the photos of the three of them.
“Are you two married?” I ask. He looks away from me and back to the picture.
“We were. She passed ten years ago. Just Alex and me now.” I’ve never lost a relative before, nor have I known anyone else who has.
“I’m sorry” I say because I don’t know what else there is for me to say.
“Thank you.” he says looking at me before turning and heading towards the kitchen again. “Would you like anything to drink or eat?”
“I’ll take a coffee please, black” I say.
“Your mother always used to drink black coffee” He says, more to himself than to me. “Please, sit.” He smiles, gesturing to the dining table. I sit and he joins me a few minutes later, placing my coffee down in front of me, I wrap my hands around my mug to warm them. It isn’t what I expected, meeting him. I expected there to be tears and hugging, as if we were like old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years, but this is more awkward, as if we’re just two complete strangers to each other, which we are, I guess. He might have helped to create me but I don’t know anything about the man sitting in front of me, a man who’s had a whole life completely separate to mine, with a wife and a son and friends and laughter and no knowledge of me. I feel a lump form in my throat, the disappointment overwhelming me and I focus on my coffee and the steam coming out of the cup.
“So,” he breathes “I have a daughter.” He sounds just as overwhelmed as I feel. I look up at him and he offers me a strained smile.
“I have a father” I return and he laughs.
“We were always planning on having a daughter, Lola and I, but after Alex she fell sick. Cancer. She went into remission twice but we never tried to have another child. Her body was weak and we were scared that carrying a baby would only weaken her more. Before she left us she said that it was one of her biggest regrets, not trying, but she was happy with the family that we had.” I can’t imagine losing someone like that, they must have had so many plans, so many things that they wanted to do but never got to. I can’t imagine what his son must have gone through, I can’t imagine losing my mother like that. He looks down at his hands and takes three deep breaths before looking back up at me.
“Anyway, tell me something about yourself, what are your hobbies, your hopes and dreams, your successes, failures? I want to know about you” He offers me a kind smile and I immediately feel more at ease.
“Well, I sing, I sometimes perform at open mic nights but it’s nothing serious, I want to be a music journalist though, I love music and I love writing so it seemed like the perfect career.” I feel nervous telling him all of this, as if he’s going to laugh at me or decide that he can’t be my father simply because of what I just told him. But he doesn’t do either of those things, instead he smiles and sits forward.
“Music runs in the family, Alex is in a band, he’s actually at practice now, I used to be in a band, nothing big, we would perform in local bars and your Grandmother was a wonderful singer. I’m glad you picked up the gene too.” Relief washes over me, no one on my mum’s side of the family is musical, Grandpa used to joke that they actually found me outside a music shop singing to strangers. Now I know where it came from and I feel a weird little sense of belonging. As I explain this to Jason I see that he looks genuinely interested in what I have to say, like every word I say holds a meaning that he must hold onto and keep forever. When I was younger, I used to talk a lot, mum would say that I had to tell every story five times to be sure that the other person understood, and it always seemed as if people got bored of me talking so I eventually stopped and changed into a more reserved version of myself. With Jason however, I feel like what I'm saying is important again. Don’t get me wrong, there’s still a tangible level of awkwardness here, neither of us knows how the other person is going to react to what we’re going to say. There are awkward pauses and a lot of uncomfortable laughter but it’s nice. Just as Jason is explaining how he broke his leg stage diving at one of his shows, I hear the front door open and footsteps as someone enters the house.
“Dad, I’m home!” A man’s voice shouts. It must be Alex, Jason excuses himself and goes out to greet Alex, I hear them talking, they’re quiet though, Jason must be explaining about me. After a few moments Jason comes back into the kitchen. He waves me over to the door where he’s stood
“Jessica, Alex will be with us in just a moment, are you okay with meeting him? It’s not too much for you, is it?” He seems concerned, as if he really cares about my opinion. I decide that I might as well meet Alex now, it’s bound to happen eventually.
“No it’s okay I’ll meet him” Jason’s smile reaches his eyes, he looks really happy, I can’t help but notice that his smile looks like mine.
“Thank you.” He whispers to me. “Alex, you can come in now!” He shouts. I’m nervous. Alex is my brother, half brother, but still. How do siblings interact? What do I say? Before I can think about it properly, he enters the kitchen and stands next to Jason, he looks at me for a moment before smiling at me. He looks familiar, where have I seen him before? Maybe I've seen him around town. Did he perform at one of the open mic nights I was at?
“Hi I’m Alex, you must be Jessica” He holds out his hand for me to shake. Oh my God, how did I not see it? Standing in front of me, next to my father, waiting for me to shake his hand is Alex Gaskarth… and he’s my fucking brother.

Notes

Comments

I like the unknown daughter angle this story has. The fact that Alex and his dad have different last names confused me though, to be honest. Looking forward to the next chapter!

hopeless1313 hopeless1313
8/20/17