The Run-away Father
I walk my mother to the departure gate.
"Are you sure you don’t want to be there when he comes?" I ask.
"I have made it clear that this trip has nothing to do with his visiting you.”
"It just seems awkward that you are going out of town before his arrival."
This is a meeting between you and him. Make the best out of it."
I understand her totally. My mother knows how to arrange her affairs and takes no advice. It is intimidating to have a mother who is witty and assertive. She has Aristotle’s ethos, logos, and pathos polished so well that when she wants to prove a point, she can skillfully articulate her argument to reach her goal. I stopped trying to figure what goes on in her head long time ago. But how can she not have bad feelings toward him? After all, he walked out on us when I was only two years old. She had to struggle between taking care of me, working, and continuing her education. When she later on remarried, he conveniently signed me off for adoption by my stepfather and not paying child-support all together. We never moved out of Los Angeles. He could easily find us by looking in the phone book yet, he never tried to look us up until last six months. Thirty five years after he walked out on me and my mother.
*
Passengers are coming out of the arrival gate. I am holding a sign as we have agreed for identifications. All of a sudden, I see “Wal-Mart” walking towards me; A bald old man with a "pot-belly". I know that this is him, my run-away father, who is finally appearing in front of me
to tell me how sorry he is.
"Jennifer, is that you?" he smiles and asks.
That is the most brownish-yellow teeth I have even seen.
"Ron, it is nice to meet you." I reach out to shake his hand, instead of giving him a hug.
I can feel the sweat in his palm. Holly shit! I see there are hairs sticking out of his ears.
My mother may say she has no hard feelings toward him but I am not so sure about my own feelings. After all, how should one feel about a man who walked away from his own child at age of two, and finally decides to meet and play when he is old, lonely, obscure, and lives in a government subsidized housing somewhere in Mississippi?
"Let me take you to your motel. It is only five minutes from here. You need to rest after five hours flight." There is no way I will let him stay in my house during his visit. After all, he is a stranger.
"I am sorr…."
"Didn’t we agree that I don’t want to hear the word "sorry" during your visit?" Don’t
even try that "Crocodile tears", I am too old to fall for it.
"It has been many years since I've seen this town. It sure has changed a lot." he says.
"I need to take care of business in the office, and take care of the boys when they come
home. Why don’t I pick you up at 9:00 in the morning to have breakfast?"
"Where are we going tomorrow?" he asks.
"After breakfast, would you like me to drop you off at the Zoo and pick you up at five?
Mom used to take me to Griffith Park to ride the ponies and the train by bus. Come to think of it, she took me to Disneyland by bus also."
"Your mother is a strong woman. Is she going to join us?"
"She is in the Bali this week; she will be back by Sunday."
"She knows I am coming right?"
“Yes, I told her.”
"She must still hate me."
You wish, she has better things on her mind, I think. In fact, my mother told me on several occasions that if her life is a two-hundred-page book, she will only devote one page for him, and that is because of my existence.
"Feel free to let me know where you would like to visit and if there is anyone you would like to meet. I will make arrangements to give you rides or send one of my employees. By the
way, there is a Denny's next to Motel 6."
"I don’t know anybody in this town anymore. I only came here to see you and my grand children."
"Hold it right there, bastard, you will not meet with my children, get them emotionally
involved and then walk out on them like you did to me." This is at the very tip of my tongue. I
have to try hard to stop it from sounding out.
"They are all busy with school and with their friends.” The look in his eyes is sending me a message of disappointment. As I move my sight downward trying to avoid looking at him, I see a missing bottom on his shirt. “We’ll see if we can work something out. May be we will have dinner together before you leave."
*
"Mom, I was a real trouble maker growing up, wasn’t I?"
"I have to admit you were a real challenge."
The lies about homework, the drunken incidents, the all night disappearance, the ditching school with friends, the arguments with teachers, the dropping out of high school, and the yelling and the verbal attacks. She put me in good schools, ice-skating lessons, gymnastic lessons, piano lessons, and even private tutors. I never appreciated how hard she tried to provide for me; instead, I use every guilt-trip I can to make her feel bad. yet, she is always there for me, sometimes from a distance.
*
"Mom….."
"What?"
"I appreciate that you have never said ‘you are a loser just like your father’"
"How could you be a loser, you have me in you."
"Thanks, Mom. I mean it."
