Drop and Give Me 50

Chapter 26: I Never Thought to Ask

Mom: Welcome home. Dinner’s ready whenever you are.

Me: Thanks. I’ll just throw my bag upstairs, and I’ll be down.

As I came down, mom was putting the last dish on the table.

Me: Smells good. I’ve had pizza the last two nights in a row. So, this is certainly an upgrade.

Mom: Glad to have you home. How was house sitting?

Me: It was great. Their pool is amazing. Brent and I put it to good use. I think I got a bit of a tan.

Mom: You seem happy. I’m glad you got to spend a relaxing weekend with Brent. Of your friends, he’s my favorite. I’ve only met them at school events and baseball games, but his parents seem nice as well.

Me: They are. So, I’m not sure how to ask this, but I was watching a movie last night after Brent went home. The main character’s parents were divorced. And it made me think about my own father and how we’ve actually never talked about it. Is he alive?

Mom had a bit of a stunned look on her face. She started crying and got up and hugged me. It was all a bit awkward because I was still seated in the chair. She wiped her eyes and sat back down.

Mom: He’s very much alive. You have no idea how relieved I am that you finally asked. What took you so long?

Me: I don’t know. I never thought to ask. It’s always just been you and me. This is our family. You’re great. It didn’t occur to me before now. If you are so relieved, why didn’t you say something earlier?

Mom: Our divorce decree was a complex one. It has a lot of rules. And your father and I are rule followers. He was never supposed to contact you until you indicated that you wanted him to. And I was forbidden to prod you. We agreed to leave everything up to you. And until just now, you never said anything.

Me: So, all I had to do was ask?

Mom: Yeah. And I’ve been hoping you would for so many years. He broke my heart. But he’s your father.

Me: So, tell me the story. I want to know.

Mom: Well, there’s rules about that as well. I can tell you the facts. I can tell you my part. But we have what is called a “non-disparagement” clause, meaning, I can’t say anything bad about him or speak on his behalf, and vice versa. What do you want to know?

Me: Are you in contact with him?

Mom: Through an attorney that was part of the deal we brokered. But not directly.

Me: Where does he live?

Mom: To the best of my knowledge, he lives in San Francisco. But I don’t know that for sure.

Me: Can I contact him?

Mom: Sure. Now that you have asked, I’m authorized to give you his phone number. I can’t guarantee what response you will get, but if I had to guess, he would be happy to hear from you.

Me: Are you OK with me calling him?

Mom: Absolutely. You’re 18. You’re a man. I might have been worried when you were four. But you’re all grown up. You deserve to have any contact the two of you work out.

Me: When did you get divorced?

Mom: The paperwork was finalized when I was 7 months pregnant with you. He’s never seen you.

Me: So, I have another set of grandparents?

Mom: I have no idea if they are alive. I know they knew you existed. I know they were upset with your father that the divorce was going to keep you from them. But this happened a generation ago. Things were different back then. And it was complicated.

Me: How so?

Mom: I can tell you what happened to me. But I will leave it to your father to explain his experience. I can say he broke my heart. But he gave me you. And for that, I will always be grateful. You have been the joy of my life.

Me: Does he pay child support?

Mom: Like clockwork. We agreed to go through the attorney rather than the state. Your dad sends his taxes in every year and the allotment is adjusted accordingly. I doubt he’s rich, but based on the increases over the years, he’s certainly done well for himself, and by extension for you.

Me: All my friends with divorced parents have so much drama. Taking each other to court over this and that. All these years, and you never once had to change anything?

Mom: There was a provision for certain circumstances. But it all just went through the attorney. It’s only happened twice. Remember the car you got when you were 16?

Me: Yeah.

Mom: He paid for half of that. Without a supplemental payment, it wasn’t going to happen. And with my work schedule and your sports schedule, I needed you to be mobile. And I didn’t want you driving some little tin can. Remember the honors program study abroad trip last summer?

Me: Yeah.

Mom: He paid for half of that. It was such an incredible opportunity, and I just didn’t want you to miss out. The child support does well by you, but those two expenses were difficult even with me only paying half.

Me: So, he agreed to help with those things.

Mom: He must have. The money showed up in my account.

Me: Why did you get fully custody, and he didn’t get visitation rights?

Mom: That’s the complicated part. You need to ask him about that. You are grown. You control that relationship now. I’ve had to stay silent for so many years, and it has eaten away at me. I’m happy you didn’t feel some compelling need, but it has been so hard to keep this from you. We did it this way to protect you. But you can stand on your own now. You don’t need to be sheltered.

Me: Tell me your story then.

Mom: We had been married for a few years. It’s a cliché, but we got pregnant to save our marriage. But what happened couldn’t be changed. It couldn’t be reversed. There was no saving the marriage, and you were already on the way. I got a good lawyer, and he put the screws to your dad pretty hard. At that time, the courts gave significant favor to mothers. The role of the father was viewed more as a provider, not a caregiver. And like I said, it was complicated.

Me: You keep saying that. What do you mean?

Mom: When you are ready, call him. He’s the best person to tell you. You deserve to hear his side. I owe it to him to let him speak directly with you without me getting in the way. You both deserve that.

Me: What’s the number?

Mom: Let me get my phone. Here it is. 415-555-1804.

Me: Wait. Did you say 1804.

Mom: Yes. Yes, I did.

Me: As in January 8th, 2004?

Mom: You father was a sentimental guy. It’s part of why I loved him. Yes, every time he has recited his phone number for the last 18 years, he has likely thought about you and the day you were born. I’m sure it wasn’t some freak statistical accident on the part of the phone company. You should call him. He’s waited a long time for this day. So have I.