Maybe This Time I'm Ready To Share
I never talk about him. I never mention him. None of my friends have ever heard me speak of him. There is no one in my life that I call Dad. That is easily the word I have used the least since I learned to speak.
The one time I have ever seen him, I was only 9 years old. I remember my mother coming to school to pick me up and saying "we're going home so you can change then you're going to go see your dad." I was so innocent. I got so excited. I pulled my favorite lacy pink dress out of the closet and put it on as quickly as possible. I just couldn't contain my excitement. Finally I was going to see him. Finally he wanted to be a part of my life. Oh God...it still hurts so much....
I remember walking into the courtroom. I remember the cold chair. And most of all, I remember turning at the exact moment he entered the room. "that's him" I muttered. I just knew.
Everything after that I wish I could forget. The judge asking why we were there. Him saying I wasn't his daughter. Calling my mother by every name he could think of. The most vivid memory though, has to be the nurses room.
I still didn't understand what was going on. I didn't know why he hadn't hugged me yet, why he didn't act the way all my other friends' fathers treated them. He was so cold to me. It took 2 nurses to hold me down so they could take the blood from my arm. I was crying hysterically. I was only 9 years old. I didn't know what a blood test for paternity was. I didn't even know this man who so coldly told the nurses to hurry up, he had other things to do. But I know, I'll never forget that moment. Never.
When the results came back stating that I was most definitely his daughter, I never saw or heard from him again. Go figure. I'm 21 years old now, and I've yet to meet my father.