Ugh.

For the record, I am so over this story. Generally, I hate to write stories that don’t have a point and something about this one screams Zero Plot! to me. The sad part is the only reason I started this mess was because I wanted to tell you about my sister. Oh, I suppose I could have pulled a ‘Lost’ and just had her show up out of the blue, all, “I’ve been here all along!” but that seemed kind of shifty to me. So now I’m stuck here telling you a long, boring, over complicated story with no point. Shoot me now.

Anyway, I called my brother up again and said,

“Hey. What if our Dad….I mean your Dad….isn’t dead?”

“What are you talking about?”

I tried to reign in my excitement a little. “What if Mom kidnapped us? I mean, we know she’s not above it or anything. That’s what she did to Henry Smith, after all.”

“Didn’t we go to the funeral?”

“No! That’s the thing!” I exclaimed, “You don’t remember because you were so young, but we never went to a funeral! And also, I think they were splitting up. I remember them fighting a lot. Do you remember the night we moved?”

“Nah.”

“Well we moved in the middle of the night. Who waits until it’s dark to move? Does that sound normal or does that sound like kidnapping to you?”

My brother got real quiet for a few minutes. I imagine he was thinking it over. Then he said, “Well, even if she did kidnap us, he’s obviously not looking for us. So, fuck him.”

I hesitated. “Maybe he has a good excuse?”

“I doubt it. He probably doesn’t want anything to do with us anymore.”

“You don’t even want to check?”

“Nope. Fuck that guy.”

My conversation with my brother gave me a lot to consider. First of all, our Father was very young when he disappeared from our lives. Just a little over 23, in fact. I remember being 23 and feeling like my whole life was ahead of me. I’m sure he felt the same way.

What if he had gotten re-married? What if he had more kids? What if he was in the middle of living a bright and happy life with a new family who didn’t know anything at all about us? A single phone call from me could blow his cover and cause all sorts of drama in his life. This man was kind to me. I didn’t want to repay him by disrupting his family.

Besides, my brother made a good point when he noted that our Father had not looked for us. It was quite possible he didn’t want anything to do with us anymore. Even sending him something small and innocent, (such as a card thanking him for being a good influence in my life) could invoke in him feelings of dread. Did I really want to force him into a position where he had to reject us outright?

Did I really want to put myself in that position?

I know all too well what it feels like when a Mother breaks your heart. I also happen to have a pretty good idea what it feels like to have a biological Father breaks your heart. But my adopted Father? He was the one positive influence in my life and the only adult who ever made me feel loved and cared for; he was my hero.

Could I stand it if he rejected me too?

In the end, I was too afraid to find out, so I never looked for him. I told myself I was doing the right thing by refusing to interfere with his life. But the reality of the matter was I was a coward and couldn’t abide by the idea that he might not want me anymore.

So I sat on my theories and told my friends he was dead.

Now we can fast forward to present day.

A few months ago, I was talking to a friend of mine online. This particular friend of mine is really into genealogy and offered to make me one of those family tree things. Obviously, making a family tree for me would be a little complicated considering my adoption and all that jazz. So while explaining this to my friend, I told her the story about how my Father wasn’t really my Father and how I sometimes still wondered if he was really alive and blah, blah, blah.

She said, “I can find out. I’ll just search for his death certificate.”

I said, “OK.”

Some time passed and finally she said, “Yeah. He’s dead.”

I felt an odd mixture of sadness and relief. I asked, “When did he die?”

“About 4 years ago.”

Thank Goodness this conversation took place online, because when my friend told me that, I sobbed like a baby. Seriously, I sobbed.

He was alive all that time. My Mother really had been lying about his death. Even as I entertained the theory in my head, I never really believed it.

And….and…..why didn’t he look for us?

Unfortunately, this was a question I would never be able to ask him. My cowardice prevented me from ever really finding out about my past.

While I was busy crying and feeling sorry for myself, my friend was busy searching through local newspapers.

“Hey,” she said, “Did you know he had another kid? I found her birth announcement.”

“How old is she?”

“17, I think. Are you going to try to contact her?”

“No, I don’t think so. She’s just a kid.”

I think one of the most humorous aspects of my personality is that I very rarely learn from my mistakes. I mean, there I was, crying and lamenting my decision to not look for my Father while simultaneously nursing the same excuses in reference to looking for my sister.

“Her life is probably bright and happy,” said I, “I don’t want to interfere.”

I’m like a broken fucking record sometimes.

Like I said before, I never actively looked for my sister. I sort of stumbled on her profile via myspace accidentally. I almost didn’t send her a message, either. The whole thing was kind of impulsive. Before I could stop myself, I sent her a short blurb. It started:

“This might sound really weird, but…”

That night, I stayed up until almost 4am talking to my little sister. The hardest part was explaining to her who I was without coming across as some sort of psycho. In the end, it was my extensive knowledge of her Father’s taste in food and the tattoos he had that convinced her.

And it turns out he actually did have a good excuse for not looking for us. He was sick. My sister was actually raised by her grandparents because her Mother was a screw up and her Father was almost constantly in the hospital. But these are her stories to tell, so I won’t delve too far into them.

Instead, I’ll leave you with a bit of conversation between my sister and me during our first talk ever. It’s the closest you guys will ever get to a happy ending from me, so I hope you enjoy it.

V: Listen, I know I know there’s no blood relation between us and it might have been kind of weird for me to contact you….

V’s Sister: That’s stupid. My Dad adopted you, so as far I’m concerned you’re my sister.

V: I’m really glad you said that because I feel the same way.