OK, let’s rewind.

I’m going to take you all back to when I was 19 years old. I was divorced, in college and surrounded by friends. I had a pretty decent job and outside of a massive amount of debt, I thought I was finally pulling my life together.

I was actually at work when I got the call. The gentleman on the phone had simply asked, “Is this V _____?”

“Yes it is,” I answered, “How can I help you?”

“I’m Henry Smith.” (Of course, I’m using a fake name here, so cut me some slack.)

Now, I had no idea who Mr. Henry Smith was. My immediate thought was that he was a potential intern calling about the status of his resume. After all, I happened to be in charge of hiring the interns. But….something about the way he introduced himself threw me. He had simply stated his name, very confidently, as if I should know him. On top of that, he sounded a bit too ‘old’ to be an intern. Most of the interns were around my age. I racked my brain for a minute, wondering if I had spoken to Henry Smith on another matter and had requested a call back, but I drew a blank.

Finally, I said, “Did you…send us your resume?”

“You don’t know who I am?”

“No, I’m very sorry, but I’m drawing a blank….”

“I’m your Father, V.”

I breathed a sigh of a relief. Obviously, this was nothing more than a wrong number. “Oh, you’re mistaken, sir. My Father’s name was actually Rich.”

“Was?”

“Well, yes. He passed away a long time ago.”

“That wasn’t your real Father. I’m your real Father.”

Is it possible to feel annoyed and afraid at the same time? Because that’s the best way I could describe my feelings after Henry Smith had uttered those sentences. The guy seemed to be some sort of psycho-stalker type and I didn’t have time for that kind of shit.

Carefully, I said, “Sir, I’m not sure who you are, but I am sure you’re mistaken. My Father’s name was Rich….”

He interrupted, “You were born on [my birthday] at [the correct hospital]. Your Mother’s name is [her name]. Your eyes are [the right color]. I saw you once when you were 10 years old, waiting at a bus stop. Back then, your hair was [the right color], but I’m not sure if it’s changed since then.”

Very snotty, I replied, “When you were looking this stuff up, did you happen to notice the name of my Father listed on my birth certificate? Because it certainly isn’t ‘Henry.’ It’s Rich _____”

“Rich adopted you, V!” he insisted. “He was a marine and he adopted you! I can prove it!”

“Prove it?”

“Yes, I have the legal documents right here in my hand. I can be there in a half an hour to show them to you, if you like.”

My first instinct was to tell Mr. Henry Smith to fuck off and hang up on him. But I didn’t, and to this day, I have no idea why. Instead, I said, “Fine. See you in half an hour.” Then I hung up.

I don’t remember much of what I thought about in the half an hour I spent waiting for Henry Smith to arrive, but I do remember how struck I was by the family resemblance I noticed the instant he walked into my office. It was absolutely stunning.

In the back of my mind, I thought about all the times I looked at family photos and wondered who I looked like. My Mother and I look nothing alike. People used to laugh and tease her, “Are you sure she’s your child?”

To be honest, I didn’t much look like my Father, either. But I’d still stare wistfully at his pictures and think to myself, I think I have his chin.

But Henry Smith? Well, let’s just say I was a spitting image of Mr. Henry Smith.

He noticed it, too. “You look just like me,” he announced and smiled as he handed over the documents.

On the top of the pile was a marriage certificate. “You were married to my Mother?” I asked.

Quickly, he answered, “Not for long. To be honest, I didn’t really know her that well when I married her. I knew it was a mistake right after I did it. But then she turned up pregnant with you and I thought I’d try to stick it out….”

“How did you meet?” I asked.

“Actually, it was at a strip joint. Your Mother, uh, worked there.” He blushed. “It was kind of a high end place. Now that I look back on it, I guess your Mother worked there hoping to cozy up to some of the wealthier customers…”

“You were one of the wealthier customers?”

“Well, uh, my family has money, I guess.” He blushed again.

This didn’t surprise me. My Mother had made it her life mission to marry rich men. It wasn’t until she turned 35 that she even began to look twice at men who brought in less than 6 figures.

I put the marriage certificate aside and looked at what was next on the pile. According to the next page, Henry Smith had attempted to divorce my Mother, hold her accountable for his stereo system which she smashed, and retain full physical custody of his 2 month old daughter.

“I fought for you,” Henry told me as I read, “People thought I was nuts to do it. They would say to me, ‘Henry, what are you going to do with a little baby?’ I would say to them, ‘Well, what is SHE going to do with a little baby? She’s no more qualified than I am.’ Even my Mother thought I was nuts to ask for full custody.”

I nodded vaguely as I flipped through the pages. Finally, I got to the order.

Stunned, I said, “You won?”

Proudly, Henry Smith said, “Yes I did! I won!”

There are men right now reading who have taken a trip through family court and know, first hand, how freaking difficult it is to do what Henry Smith did. It is currently the year 2007 and most men don’t have a shot in hell at full physical custody of their children. Henry Smith, on the other hand, won full physical custody of a 2 month old baby girl back in the 70’s. The fact that this happened very glaringly shows what the court system thought of my Mother. Apparently, they were not amused by her.

I turned the page. It was a police report. “You hit her?” I asked Henry.

“Never!” he admonished, “Not once. She paid my next door neighbor $500 to punch her in the eye. Go on, keep reading. My neighbor actually testified on my behalf. We even had the canceled check as evidence.”

Indeed, the next page was a copy of a canceled check in my Mother’s handwriting. She even wrote ‘A punch in the face’ in the ‘For’ section. What an idiot.

There were more papers, but I set them down. I rubbed my temples for a few seconds and then asked, “So, what happened?”

“What happened was she took you!” Henry answered, “She was supposed to get you on weekends and I dropped you off at her apartment. When I came back to pick you up, everything was gone. All of her stuff. You. She took you and ran.”

“Kidnapped…” I mused to myself.

“That’s exactly what it was! Kidnapping!” my Father cried angrily, “And I called the police, but they didn’t care. Even after I showed them the papers proving I had legal custody, they wouldn’t look for you. So, I hired some private investigators.”

“Kidnapped,” I repeated dumbly.

“She must have left the state or something,” he went on, “Because no one I hired could find you. And, after the paying my lawyer and stuff….well…I started running out of money.” He paused. “I’m afraid that after that, I started drinking pretty heavily. I guess…I turned into a bit of an alcoholic.”

During this conversation, my mind had been working like mush, but something suddenly occurred to me. “Wait a minute,” said I, “You said Rich adopted me. How could Rich have adopted me without your permission?”

Henry Smith sighed heavily. He clearly didn’t want to tell me what happened next.

“Three years after she took you, your Mother called me,” he began. “She told me she had remarried and she was pregnant again. With your brother. Her new husband was a marine and came from a very wealthy family.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Well anyway,” he continued, “She told me her new husband loved you like his own. She said they wanted to be a complete family and they didn’t want you to feel like an outcast. I talked to Rich and he told me it would mean the world to him if I’d let him adopt you.”

“So you let him?”

“Well, not at first. I mean, I wanted to know more about him. So I spoke to his commanding officer. His commanding officer said he was a damn good marine. A real stand up guy, you know? I seriously couldn’t track down a single person to say anything negative about him.”

“Other than he had hooked up with my Mother…” I muttered.

“And V…I was a drunk. I mean, after your Mother left with you, that was my life. I was a mess.”

“You consented.” I stated.

He nodded.

“Just like that? You signed me away?”

He cringed. “No, it wasn’t ‘just like that.’ I told you, Rich was a stand up guy. I talked to his commanding officer. He said Rich was solid.”

“What about my Mother?” I snapped angrily, “You knew she wasn’t solid!”

He blinked at me, but stayed silent. Obviously, he had nothing to say about that. I put my head in my hands.

Very carefully, he said, “I’m not here trying to be your Father or anything. I’d just like to get to know you. Maybe be friends.”

This time, it was my turn to go to silent. I stared at him blankly and very slightly nodded my head.

He continued, “Maybe we can go out to dinner or something? Get to know each other?”

“I’m working now,” I said vaguely.

“I didn’t mean now. I meant on your day off or something. Can I call you?”

I nodded again.

He grinned happily and got to his feet. He jabbered on for a few minutes, but I had quit listening to what he was saying. Finally, he left, promising to call me as soon as I was finished with work.

I sat quietly by myself for a few minutes until the shock overwhelmed me. Then, I cried.

My Father wasn’t my real Father?

My brother wasn’t….?

Who else knew about this?

I decided to leave work early. I had to visit my Grandmother.