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Hello Father

By: Hanover_Fist



It was going to be a good day. It was a perfect day for a long run on the beach, a hot shower, and then college football on television. San Diego State was on in the morning and USC was the afternoon game. I strapped on my running shoes, headed out the back door of my house, and turned south. I hit the five-mile mark and turned back for home. The run cleared out the cobwebs and by mile eight, I had completely forgotten about the last week of work. La Jolla was great this time of the year. Half the country had snow, and I'm running on the beach in shorts. 

I grabbed a quick shower and threw on some pants, a polo shirt, and a pair of Topsiders and headed for Tequila Joe's. By the time I got to Tequila Joe's, San Diego State was already one touchdown ahead. I liked this place. It had four large televisions with a different game on each one, good food, and the waitresses were friendly (and not too hard on the eyes). Margo was my favorite. Cute, compact, and she always had a smile for this old guy. She was way too young and I had no intentions with her. But just having a warm smile made my weekend better. I spent many a Saturday here watching football, and a few Sundays too. 

San Diego State was in control, moving the ball well and scoring. The defense was holding too. My chicken salad lunch was history and I had just ordered my second beer. San Diego State was driving to another score when he walked in. I didn't see him, but he saw me. He walked directly to my table. When he arrived at my table I noticed him with surprise. He then said the words that I had hoped never to hear again. 

"Hello Father" 

The words rocked me. At one time it brought such joy to hear those very words, but those days were long gone. Now, those words just cut. I looked at the boy. Heck, he wasn't a boy anymore. He is over twenty-one by now. It had been five long years since I had last seen him. Robert was a gangly sixteen when I left and just starting to shave. He had grown some. He had matured and filled out with muscle. He was a young man now. 

I said " Hello Robert" 

"Tell me why", he hissed 

I had practiced hundreds of times, staring at hundreds of sunsets, what I would say if this meeting ever happened, but I could not remember the words now. I looked at Robert. He had anger in his eyes. He stood with clenched fists and his knuckles were white. I realized that if I stood, he would probably knock me down, so I stayed seated. I felt true sorrow for the boy. I didn't want to hurt him. Hell, I had hurt him enough. He and his brothers must have had a difficult time for the last half-decade. 

I said the only thing that I could think of, the truth, "I'm not your father." 

"What?" he said 

"I am assuming you are asking why I left you, your brothers, and your mother five years ago. The reason is because I'm not your father." 

That stunned him, confused him and he relaxed his fists. His face displayed confusion and I could tell that statement was rocking his world. Missing pieces were falling into place. I stood up and guided him into the chair. Looking at him, I could see his world crumbling, just as mine did five years ago. 

I called Margo over and ordered a couple of beers. At one time, I had fantasies of just this. Sharing a beer with my son, but this wasn't what I envisioned. 

"How? What?" was all he could say. 

I looked him in the eyes and started. "I'll start at the beginning. It was the first day of high school when your mother and I met. It was second period science lab. She just moved to Denver from Oklahoma and was new to the school. She was the last person into the lab and the only open seat was next to me. Nobody wanted to sit next to me because I had a reputation for being one of the smart kids. Kids never associated with the smart kids and never wanted to sit next to them. Sandy, as the new girl, got stuck next to me. I could not have been happier. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen." She was tall and blond. Those were two of my favorite attributes. She was slim with small breasts, but she filled out her sweater quite nicely. She looked at me and gave me a smile that melted my heart. From that moment on, I was hooked." 

"The science class was tough and Mr. Rothenberg was a hard grader. Sandy was smart, but math and science were not her best subjects. Since we were lab partners, I tutored her and had to help her through that class. We studied in the library twice a week. For some unknown reason she seemed to like me. We hit it off well and quickly became inseparable. She passed with a strong "B". During that year, we became best friends. In our sophomore year, we had three classes together. I helped her through math, and she helped me through composition. That year, we had biology together. We both blushed during the sex education discussion and after that class, I kissed her. It was my first kiss." 

"Through the rest of high school we were a couple. We went to every football game, every dance, and every party together. It was after Homecoming of our junior year that we gave our virginity to each other. It was in the backseat of my father's car parked near our old little league field. I was clumsy and awkward. She was perfect. It was the most fun I had ever had. I thought I had died and gone to heaven." 

"Our senior year we had a crisis. I was accepted to attend MIT in Boston. We did not want to be separated, so we worked hard and got her accepted to Boston College. We graduated from high school and had a wonderful summer together. That fall, we packed up and moved to Boston together. We rented a small apartment near her school and I commuted to Cambridge for my classes. I had a scholarship for my tuition and we took out school loans for Sandy's. Our parents kicked in with rent and food money. We were young, in love, and happy." 

"My school was tough. I had to study every night and a lot of the weekends. They expected a lot and I wanted to be at the top of my class. Sandy did not have the same workload or commitment. She was there to get a degree, be with me, and have fun. We were in love and making love at every opportunity. It was here that your mother developed her social attitude. Sandy developed a close group of friends, both female and male. At the time, I didn't think a thing about it. She loved to have friends around and be the center of their attention. She was always very friendly with everyone." 

"We spent each summer back home and drove east each fall. The four years flew by. I graduated with my degree in Aeronautical Engineering and Sandy got a bachelors degree in History." 

"We came home to Denver and our parents threw us a great welcome home party. All our friends were there. It was there that I got down on my knees and proposed to your mother. Everybody already knew that we were going to get married, but this was the official event. She cried and quickly said yes." 

"After the party we spent the whole night making love. Sometimes, Sandy was insatiable. This was one of those times. I could hardly walk the next day." I avoided the details. No boy wants to hear explicit details of his mother's sex life. 

"Before graduation, I had sent out some job applications and talked to some companies at job fairs. Now that I had my degree, I set out to get a real job. I interviewed with a couple of places and they said they wanted me. But, it would have required us to move. Sandy and I wanted to stay around Denver. She wanted to stay close to her friends and her family. I got an offer from Telluride Technologies in their aircraft design unit and I accepted. I started out at the bottom, but quickly grasped the process and got promoted to a team leader. They had a contract with Boeing and we were doing some of their design work. We were working on some cutting edge stuff and my MIT education helped a lot." 

"Sandy was working at an insurance company doing medical billing. It was not difficult work for her, but she didn't mind. She was planning a wedding and was very preoccupied. She stayed busy with her friends and co-workers. 

"The months flew by and the next thing we knew, we were standing at the altar. We were married in a beautiful ceremony in your grandmother's backyard. All our families, your grandparents, and all our co-workers and were there. It was a wonderful day. I still have memories of that day. You have seen the pictures. I thought that she was the best thing to ever happen to me. Boy, for being an MIT grad, I sure was clueless. We got a little apartment and set up house." 

Robert was absorbing all this. I'm sure that he had heard these stories before, but now he was listening closely. Listening for some of the pieces missing from his personal puzzle. 

I continued, "At work, I was getting noticed. One day, I got called into the boss' office and he asked me if I wanted to move to a new unit. There were a couple of other men with us. I thought it was strange that my boss never introduced us. Later, I found out that they were from the Government. Way up high in the Air Force. I asked a couple of questions about what we would be working on, but he just deflected the questions. He did not give me any clue what the future would be, but he just said that I would enjoy it and there would be a raise. I said yes. I filled out a bunch of forms from the two guys. I went home and told Sandy that I just got promoted and we celebrated." 

"The next Monday, I showed up at work and they gave me a flight report on a project called Have Blue. I was to begin work on some new technologies for the Air Force. Technically, the words we used were that we were working on reducing the cross-sectional radar signatures while increasing fight capabilities. Today we call this work stealth. It was all very secret work. It was fun, but it took a toll on Sandy and me." 

"Sandy supported me and we made love at every chance. She never turned me down. But some nights I had to work late and she had to entertain herself. She had a group of friends from work and she would stop on the way home from work to have a couple of drinks. I didn't worry. I had met most of the co-workers and they were a mostly an ok bunch. By the time I got home, she was waiting for me, usually in something sexy. Looking back, I probably should have paid closer attention." 

"Three months into my new job, Sandy called me at work and told me she was pregnant. I was ecstatic. I was going to be a father. I called my mom, sister, and everybody else I could think of. I came straight home and we celebrated again. We stayed up late at night and planned everything out, all the way to our baby's college. In the next months, we painted a room for the nursery, and prepared for our family. A few months later, you arrived. I was in the delivery room and watched you come into the world. I think that this was the happiest day of my life. You were gorgeous. Two arms, two legs, beautiful face, and a loud cry." 

Robert just listened. I looked over and caught Margo's eye. She was close by. Was she listening? Did it matter? She brought two more beers. 

"We discussed names. I should say, I discussed names. I wanted to name you after my father, Edward, or my grandfather, Peter. But Sandy would hear none of it. She named you Robert and that was it. I was just happy to have a son and didn't care that much. So Robert it was." 

"With a new mouth to feed, I felt that I had to work extra hard. I wanted to provide for you and our family. I still found time for Sandy, but she was always tired. I helped with the diaper changes and took my turn with the after midnight feedings, but things were strained. Sandy stayed home for a couple of months, but I could tell it was wearing on her. She needed some adult company and I encouraged her to go back to work. My mother could baby-sit. Sandy was much happier after that." 

"Sandy worked hard to get herself back in shape. After you were born, she walked and did aerobics almost every day. After six weeks, she looked great. One benefit was her breasts did not get smaller. They stayed a very nice C- cup. We soon got into a routine. Work, feeding, and sleep. We did return to our love making as often as you would allow. Sandy even got to go out a few evenings with her co-workers while I stayed home." 

"It was not six months later that Sandy told me she was pregnant again. We quickly decided that our little apartment was too small and began to look for a house. We had saved for a down payment and soon we found a place in the suburbs. It was a lovely house with a large yard. We moved in and a month later, we were back in the delivery room. Your brother arrived kicking and screaming. Again, I wanted to name him Edward or Peter, but your mother named him Randy. I conceded and Randy was brought into our family. I thought we were happy. I had not a clue that anything was amiss. With two boys in diapers, I though the stress was normal." 

"After Randy was born, we decided that Sandy could not go back to work. She did maintain contact with all her work friends and still made it out to with her friends once in a while." 

"Within a year, Sandy was pregnant again. Nine months later, Tim arrived. After another year, Michael arrived. You were four when Michael was born. After Michael, We decided that four boys were enough and Sandy had her tubes tied. But, you and your brothers were a very effective form of birth control and our sex life was challenged. But, I was happy." 

"We quickly found our little home too small. We shopped around and found the place in Aurora. It was a great house with a yard big enough for all you kids and your toys." 

"I began to notice things about Sandy. For one thing, she never once called you as "our boys." She always said "her boys." I attributed it to motherly pride, but it still bothered me. Another thing, she did was discount my job and me. Whenever we went to one of her social events, she would say I drew planes for a living. I did not correct her because I didn't want to embarrass her in front of her friends and also, what I did was classified, and couldn't discuss it anyway. But it still hurt." 

"My job was very taxing. I was now leading my design team on a new stealth fighter. There were grumblings in the Middle East and the Air Force was pushing hard. My team and I were delivering. My bosses were happy and they showed it by laying on more work. But, even with all the work, I still made it to every little league game. I coached a couple of your teams and cheered every hit. That in itself was no easy task. With the four of you, I was spread pretty thin." 

"When Michael began school, Sandy found herself with a lot of time on her hands. My job was providing a good salary, so she didn't need to work. So, she did the next best thing, she volunteered. She worked with the breast cancer society and library foundation. She found a way to fill almost every available minute. She worked hard and was very successful. And she developed a whole new group of friends." 

"All in all, life was good. My stealth fighter was flying and it had dazzled the world in the Gulf War. You boys were growing and we were involved in sports. Sandy was involved in the community and she seemed happy. Our life together was very satisfactory. However, I began to think she resented the relationship I had with you boys. I see now that she sometimes tried to drive a wedge between us. I see that she tried to make our life more complicated. Sandy signed you up for baseball and Randy up for football. She had Tim in volleyball and Michael in music. I never knew why each of you had to have a different sport to play. And Michael with his music. He was good. I don't have a musical bone in my body and I didn't think Sandy did either. But Michael was a truly gifted musician. I don't know where he got it. I would joke with Sandy that the postman must be a great musician and she would just smile." 

"And then it all came crumbling down. I just turned forty and the Air Force wanted me to get a physical. I hadn't seen a doctor in years. I was a healthy as a horse. The physical was very comprehensive. I did a treadmill test, blood work, and even had the finger wave. All was going well until the doctor checked my testicles. He found something. He was not sure what and he didn't tell me anything. He called a specialist. They made an appointment for me the next day. Now when the medical community moves that fast and gets you an appointment with a specialist the next day, you become worried. I didn't say anything at home and had a very restless night." 

"The next day, the specialist ran a bunch of tests. A cat scan, and more blood tests. By the end of the exam, he seemed a little more relaxed. He told me to get dressed and then he would discuss the results of the tests with me. We sat in his office and he explained that they thought I had a tumor, but it was some kind of scar tissue. He asked if I had any significant injuries, and all I could think of was a motorcycle accident I had when I was fourteen. I was dirt bike riding when I went down and the bike went up. I spent a couple of days in the hospital, but recovered quickly. Then he destroyed my world." 

He said " Is that what caused you to be sterile." 

"I'm not sterile, I have four sons." 

"Well, I don't know anything about that. But the tests show that your are sterile." I got mad and ran out of there. The next day, I got a second opinion. He said the same thing, I'm sterile. The next day, I got a third opinion. Same thing. The fourth day, I sought a different kind of proof. I took all four of you to the doctor. I told you and Sandy that we were getting flu shots, but actually, we were getting DNA tests. 

I looked over at Robert. I asked if he remember that day. He nodded yes. He had tears in his eyes. 

"Two weeks later, I had the results. I didn't think it could get any worse. It got worse. Not only were the four of you not mine, but also, each of you had a different father. I was devastated. I went to the nearest bar and sat. I contemplated the significance of this. I had questions, but no answers. I tried to remember any clues, but found none. My entire married life was a lie. Who was I married to? When? How? Where? After three doubles of single malt scotch, I called a taxi and was poured home." 

"The next day, I was up early, with a hangover, and drove off to work. I couldn't think, couldn't concentrate, and couldn't even talk. My team noticed it and sent me home early. That night, Sandy cooked dinner. I remember it like it was yesterday. All you boys were at your high school basketball game. She wore a blue dress and made spaghetti. We had Chianti. I sat across from Sandy. I looked at her and wondered. I could not bring myself to ask. I looked at her with new eyes. I looked close and didn't like what I saw. I saw evil. I saw ugly. I got nauseated. She asked what is wrong. I couldn't answer. I ran to the bathroom and threw up. I threw up dinner. I threw up lunch. I threw up my past, everything. I was sick until there was nothing left. Then I threw up blood. In that toilet, I saw my life, and I saw my future. Sandy asked if she should call a doctor. I said, "No, just leave me alone." She was concerned. Now? Now, she was concerned? I threw up again. Sandy led me to the spare bed and laid me down. I cried all night." 

"It was still dark when I got up. I didn't know what I was going to do. I just knew that I could not continue like this. I drove to the Denny's. I drank some juice and ate a couple of eggs. I managed to keep it down. I went to the park and watched the sunrise. It was a beautiful sunrise. A red sky at morning, sailors take warning. I drove to the office and resigned. They tried to talk me out of it. They asked what was wrong. I said nothing. I just quit. I went to the bank and took out half my 401k. Almost 80 thousand dollars. I drove home. Nobody was there. I looked for anything I needed. I saw nothing. There was nothing here for me. I wrote a note and left it on the table. All it said was "I know." I got in my truck and drove off leaving my home, your home, for the last time. I got to the interstate and wondered where I was going to go. I looked up into the clear blue sky and saw a hawk. He was flying east, so I turned east. I don't remember thinking of you boys, or even Sandy. All I wanted to do was escape the pain. I have very little recollection of those first days." 


Hello Father Ch. 02



The following is Chapter II of Hello Father. This is not a stand-alone story and you will probably need to read Hello Father to get an understanding of the story. Thanks to all that commented on Hello Father. Encouragement is always helpful.

Hello Father -- Robert's Story

"You're not my son," echoed in my ears. I recalled each syllable, each inflection to the nth degree. I think I heard the rest of the story, but that first sentence stood out more than everything that followed. My whole world, my entire existence was brought into question. I was not conceived in love as I had known my entire life, but in something else. But what? Tears burned my face.

I staggered out of the restaurant and headed back to the sanctuary of my hotel room. I got a room in a small hotel in Pacific Beach. I tried to understand the events of the day and failed. I wanted my family back, but realized that was impossible. However, I also knew that I had to go forth. For the past five years, I have been the father figure of our family, and I had grown a lot. I could not fail my brothers now.

As I laid down that night, past conversations and events burned my soul. My entire life ran past my eyelids. Every little league game, every family dinner, every time he sat with me doing math homework, every time he held my head as, I vomited into the toilet with the flu ran through my mind. I could not think of any bad memories of this man. Pain and sorrow consumed me until Morpheus took over.

The dawn shook me out of my dreams. The cold autumn air of the Pacific chilled me to the core. The night did nothing to give me direction to the future. I grabbed a pair of shorts, t-shirt, and my shoes and headed out to his house. I was only a couple of miles away, but the trip seemed longer. I arrived at his doorstep at about eight o'clock.

I rang the doorbell. However, before the sound had died out, the door opened, and he was there. He invited me in. I declined. "I listened to what you said yesterday. I hope you understand that I have many questions that must be answered and many issues to be resolved."

He looked at me with sorrow in his eyes. I continued, "I will be heading home today. I need to decide what to do."

"What will you tell your brothers? What about your mom?"

"I don't know." I replied with all sincerity. I didn't know what I would tell my brothers. Mom was another story entirely. I looked at him. This was the man who raised me. I don't care who was the sperm donor was. This man was my father.

There were several moments of silence between us. I broke it and said, "I do not know who donated the sperm for my conception. Whoever he is, he is not my dad. You are. You always have been and always will be." Another period of silence and then the tears started flowing.

"Daddy" I said and threw myself into his arms.

We both held each other tight. "Can we come back into your life? I'm not sure how my brothers feel." I hesitated. "Yes I do know; we all want you back."

Dad said, "I want back into your lives more than anything; I want to make up for what I did. But I don't know how. I cannot face your mother. My pain goes too deep. I'm unsure about every memory, every time together, and my entire life. I cannot face that."

He led me to the kitchen and poured two cups of coffee. We sat at the kitchen table and watched the birds on the patio. The waves washed up on the beach beyond the patio.

I led off, "Dad; you have given me a lot to digest. Mom hurt you. She hurt all of us, but she is still my mom. Since you have been gone, things have changed. I don't know how to figure this all out." A couple of tears slipped down his cheeks.

"I don't know how she could do that to you, to us? I understand all you said yesterday, but you are my dad. You are the father of my brothers and me regardless of what any test says. You have been everything in our lives, and we will need to work this out. I do not know where this ends, but I do know; you have been, and will continue to be a part of our lives."

I could see the burden of ages lifted from my dad. He seemed to grow a foot taller. He stood as big as I remembered him. He grasped me in a hug that crushed the air from my lungs. I wept and he held me, and I felt his sobs as he squeezed me.

"Thank-you." He whispered. "Please forgive me. I will do anything I can to make it up to you and your brothers." With all the strength that I remembered, he held on. He held me away and said, "I will give anything I have to you and your brothers to make this up to you."

"I will too." I said. I gave him one last hug and made my way back to the car.

The drive from Colorado to San Diego took a little less than sixteen hours. I made it in one full day of driving. For the trip home, I was going to split the trip into two days. I would stop somewhere near St. George, Utah, for the night. While I did plenty of thinking on the way west, I felt the trip home would consume more of my attention.

As I began my drive home, I remembered back. I recalled when I was young; I was never sure what my dad did for a living. He went out in the morning and came home at night. Whatever my father did he made reasonably good money. Every time we moved we purchased a new house in a decent neighborhood. As far as I knew we were not rich, but we didn't have to worry about money for clothes or groceries, and the bills always got paid. As a young teenager, I didn't know much about money, but a lack of it was never used as a reason we couldn't do things. I had a small allowance for Cokes, video games and incidentals, which kept me happy most of the time. I even got a bonus if I was needed to watch my brothers.

As I got older, I overheard something about airplanes a couple of times. However, I still didn't know what exactly he did, other than that it was associated with the military, and no one was allowed to talk about it. Every few months someone in uniform would show up for dinner. My brothers and I would whisper that dad was a secret agent. We had fantasies that he would jet off to some exotic place and steal secrets from Russian dictators. He was our hero. Even with his secret agent work, he still found time to play catch with me.

I remembered the day he left. I was just sixteen. I got home early from school that day. Normally, my routine was to drop my school bag at the foot of the stairs and make a beeline to the refrigerator. Mom always yelled about drinking straight from the milk carton, but when nobody was home, it was fair game. I remember the note on the kitchen table. All it said was "I know." 'What the heck did that mean,' I thought. I left it there.

Mom and dad would not be home for a couple of hours, so I flipped on the television to watch an episode of the Simpsons that I recorded. After about a half hour, I went upstairs to do some homework. Randy and Michael got home, and they went out into the backyard to play. They didn't have as much homework as me. Tim usually stopped by his friend's house after school. He would slam into the house like a tornado at about dinnertime.

I was sitting in my room when I heard the cry. It sounded like an animal being slaughtered. I ran downstairs and found mom on the floor clutching the note to her chest. She was sobbing uncontrollably. I asked what happened, but she was crying too much to get a word out. She looked to be in such great pain. I guess Randy and Michael never heard her. They must have been deep in the backyard. I got mom to her feet and took her upstairs to her bedroom. I didn't know what to do, so I just held her while she cried. She held me back. I do not recall a single intelligible word. After a time that seemed like forever, she calmed enough to let go. I laid her back on her bed, and she just whimpered. She grabbed dad's pillow and curled herself around it. I didn't know what to do, so I backed out of the room and closed the door behind myself.

I went back downstairs and met Randy and Michael in the kitchen.

"Where's mom?" Randy asked.

"She is upstairs; I don't think she feels good." I replied.

"What's for dinner?" Randy came back with unconcerned about his mom's health.

"I don't know."

"Let's wait for dad. He will know." Michael inserted.

We waited for about an hour. Randy and Michael got out the Xbox and began to play against each other. Tim came home and joined his brothers in the ad-hoc competition. Shouts and yells came from the family room. I made my way back upstairs to check on mom.

She was still curled up around dad's pillow. "Mom," I whispered. I think she was awake. "Mom," I said a little louder. She stirred and looked at me with tear stained eyes. "When is dad coming home to cook dinner?" I asked.

I watched as fresh tears began to fall. "He had to go out of town for a little while. Can you be the man of the house tonight and fix up some mac and cheese for you and your brothers?" She asked in a quiet voice.

"Sure mom. What about you? Are you going to come down?"

"I'm not sure, honey. Can you handle it without me?"

I was sure that I could. I made mac and cheese all the time. Making it for my brothers would be no big deal. I boiled the water and cooked the noodles. In ten minutes, I called my brothers to the table. The conversations around the table focused on the latest Xbox game; who got in a fight at school and when the next basketball game was? Only a couple of passing comments concerned mom and dad's lack of attendance. It was Randy's turn to wash the dishes, and after it was all done, I quietly snuck upstairs to check on mom. Only a small table lamp was on, and the room was cast in dark shadows. She was turned away from the door, still hugging the pillow. I'm not sure if she was awake, or if she heard me.

The next day, we all got up and got ourselves dressed, semi-fed on cereal, and off to school. Mom was not around, but that was not really unusual. When I returned home, it was a repeat of most other days, book bag at the stairs, refrigerator, drink of milk, then plop down for thirty minutes of TV. My brothers got home at the regular times and the yelling and screaming commenced. However, something was not right. I went upstairs, looked in my parent's room, and saw mom on the bed. It did not look as if she had moved an inch since I saw her last night. I crept in. "Mom, are you ok?" I said.

Without moving she said, "Honey, can you order pizzas for you and your brothers? There is some money in my purse." I went around the bed to her purse. As I got out her billfold, I looked at mom. She looked awful. Normally, my mom was a very pretty lady. Some of my friends even make jokes about how hot she is, but now she looked really sick. Her eyes were sunken and ringed in red. Her hair was matted and tangled. She had on the same clothes that she was wearing last night. I was getting very worried. I figured that I had better call dad. Even when he was out of town, he always called us, but most times it was near bedtime.

When I got downstairs, I called dad's cell phone. He didn't answer. I left a message and waited for his return call. He did not call back. I was getting very worried. What happened? I thought the worst almost immediately. Did something bad happen to dad? Was that why mom was crying? I didn't say anything to my brothers about mom or that dad was missing. That night dad never called me back. I had tears in my eyes when I went to sleep that night too.

After a restless sleep, I woke up and make a straight line to mom's room. As I opened the door I saw she was still in bed, she whispered, "I'm alright, honey. Go get yourself and your brothers ready for school. We will all have a little talk tonight."

All day, I dreaded what this talk would be about. I don't think I heard any of my teacher's lessons. I kept to myself the entire day. At the last bell, I ran directly home. When I arrived home, Aunt Shannon was there. She was cleaning the downstairs and washing some dishes left in the sink. We called her Aunt Shannon, but she was not related. She was a close friend of mom's, and I think they worked together. This was another bad sign. I went straight upstairs to my room. The door to mom's room was closed.

I sat on my bed and fought back tears. Occasionally, one tear would trickle down my cheek. I heard my brothers arrive and a little while later I could hear the Xbox. I wondered if they had any feelings of impending doom. How could they not know something bad was about to happen?

I could hear Aunt Shannon rattling pots and pans in the kitchen. She called Tim to set the table and five minutes later; she called everyone to dinner. We were all seated at the table when mom came downstairs. I could tell she had put some effort out, but she still looked like death. She said nothing and carried herself to her regular seat. Aunt Shannon began to pass the food around. Absent was dad or a place set for dad. Suddenly, as if we all knew that something bad was happening, conversations stopped. The snide comments from one brother to another stopped in mid sentence; nothing was said about whom he likes, teases about one brother's stupid friends, comments about an ugly haircut, nothing. All those loving comments that hold a family together were now in the past. By some kind of mental telepathy, we all knew that nothing would be the same ever again.

I was watching mom out of the corner of my eyes. She took some food for her plate, but I never saw her eat anything. Often she wiped tears with her napkin. She did not look like she was going to make it through dinner. Halfway through eating, mom began, "Boys."

All our attention was on her. I saw Shannon reach over to hold her hand; as though offering some kind of strength to continue.

"I have done something terrible. Your father is very hurt and angry with me. He has left me. I do not know how long he will be angry or when he will be back. I know that your father loves you and does not want to hurt you." She looked around the table into each of our faces. As she caught my eyes, I saw her tears and could feel my own flowing. I was afraid to look at my brothers, but I could hear sobs from the end of the table.

She continued, "Things are going to be different from today forward. But, we will continue to be a family in his absence. We will respect his decisions and never shall a bad word be said about him. The fault lies solely within me." I saw Shannon squeeze mom's hand.

"You all have no reason to feel that you have done anything to push your father to this decision. You have all been good sons, and he is proud of you." With that, mom got up from the table and went upstairs. Not another word was spoken by anybody. The food was left on the plates and in a couple of minutes, my brothers ran from the table, separately, to grieve. I sat there stunned. Shannon got up and began to clear the plates. Out of habit, I got up to help. Shannon began to wash the dishes, and I took a position beside her to dry. In a quiet voice, she said, "Robert, you are the oldest. Much will fall on to your shoulders. You must do your best to help your brothers through this. Your brothers need you." She turned to face me, "Robert, can you do this?

I nodded slowly.

"Robert, your mother will need you too. She will carry this burden and guilt for a long time. You must not let that guilt overwhelm her. At times, you will have to support her. Hold her when she cries and remind her of your brothers' love. You will have to give her your love too. Can you do this?"

I nodded and wondered who was going to help me. Tears came again. I excused myself and went upstairs to my own solitude.

That dinner began the slow destruction of our family. Before this, I think mom volunteered at the cancer society. By the next week, mom announced that she had obtained a paying job. She said sadly, "I will not be making much in the beginning, so we may have to watch our spending." From then on money became another concern in our family.

Within six months almost all of our extra money was cut. No more Xbox games; no more dinners at nice restaurants, and no more extra money for Doritos after school. My brothers felt this and complained more than me. I took my first step to shoulder my share. I quit after-school sports and got a part-time job. I convinced mom to let me get a school work permit and got a job at Denny's. I cleaned tables, filled water glasses, and re-filled coffee cups. I worked about twenty hours per week. I worked for minimum wages, but I got a share of the waitresses' tip money. I split the money with my brothers and gave them each about thirty dollars a week. That helped soften the blow to my brothers a bit.

However, money was not the only problem. Soon guilt began to eat at our family, and each of my brothers displayed in their own way. For some reason, my brothers assumed that something they did was part of the reason dad left. If only I had not gotten that "D" on the math test. If only I could have not made that error at shortstop. If only I had told him how much I love him.

Each of them found a hundred reasons. Unfortunately, I did too. Randy threw himself into his schoolwork. From that day forward, he never brought home a grade less than an "A". One day, he confided in me that if dad ever did come home, he wanted him to be proud.

Tim did the same thing with sports. He got to the practice field before everyone else, practiced harder, and was the last to leave. He was rewarded with starting spots on the football, basketball, and baseball teams. By his freshman year, he was "All Conference" in two sports and on his way to being an "All American." However, that devotion took its tool. With his looks and being the star athlete, he never even had a girlfriend. He could not afford the time.

Michael was a different story. For the first couple of years, Michael played his guitar. He would lock himself in his room and play songs he heard on the radio. He did play well. But when he reached thirteen, he began to change. He began to hang around with the not-so-good kids. These kids had a reputation for getting into trouble. By the age of fourteen, I am pretty sure that Michael was smoking pot. More than once, he came home with bloodshot eyes and was staggering. I tried to talk to him, but he just blew me off. "You don't own me." He said. "You're not my father." He would yell with anger in his eyes. I didn't know what to do. My own guilt was consuming me too. I was putting in forty hours a week at work. I was promoted to waiter and making ok money. I still split it all with my brothers.

Through all this, mom was withdrawing more. I saw a change in her every month. Six months after the dinner, I think she realized that dad was never coming back. From then on, all she did was work, sometimes sixty hours per week, come home and fix dinners, then afterwards go to her room. The pretty mom that I once had was withering away, and I could do nothing to stop it. Aunt Shannon would stop by about once a month to talk to everyone, but that was the only guest we ever had in the house.

After the guilt, deciding who was at fault, came next. Although mom said she was to blame, we all took different paths to reach the final destinations. Randy and Tim eventually shifted much of the blame to dad. His inability to forgive made him the bad guy. I could see their anger at their father. Michael was the opposite. He took mother's confession to heart. He accepted the guilt and began to heap the blame on her. Michael's relationship with mom deteriorated. He became more rebellious at her. Many times, I had to intercede to keep the peace. My own path took me parallel to Tim and Randy. I knew my mom did wrong, but dad must carry some of the blame. With each passing year, dad's responsibility grew. I could feel my anger growing towards my father.




Hello Father Ch. 02



Once I reached nineteen, I looked for my father about every three months. I asked mom once if she ever looked or found him, and she began to cry. She stated that she never found him. My guess is that she looked for him, but never found anything.

I did on-line searches whenever I had the chance. Google is a wonderful thing. I got copies of his degree on-line and a couple of articles in aeronautical engineering magazines that mentioned his name. However, I never got anything current. It was just after summer when I got a hit. I discovered the race results of the San Diego Half Marathon. There, I found a listing with my father's name, age, and La Jolla was the city of residence. I remembered that dad ran a couple of 10k races when we were growing up. So I explored deeper. The race had a bunch of pictures of the start, finish and various shots of the crowd. In a background shot, I could make out someone who looked like him. Bingo.

My drive got me to St. George before dark. My family stood at a cross roads, and I now had the key to either destroying the rest of the way or trying to heal it. How would my brothers take the news of what mom did? We all transferred the blame to him. My brothers continuously asked why could he not forgive her. What was so bad? What about us? Now that I had the answers to these questions, I knew the effect that information would have. Would the anger and hate be transferred to mom? She was just barely holding on as it is. If her sons rebelled, that would push her over the edge. I was in a quandary. However, as the oldest, it was my burden to bear.

I found a small chain hotel just outside St. George and pulled in before six. The hotel had a diner, and I grabbed a quick hamburger. I was in bed by nine. But I don't think I fell asleep until past one.

I began the second day of my journey home by seven the next morning. I filled up the gas tank and headed north on Highway 15. Through the miles, I recalled the hurt in my father's words. I understood that hurt. I had my own experience with unfaithfulness. I began to remember how my experiences mirrored my dad's.

The restaurant I worked at always had a lot of young kids as waiters and waitresses. Turnover was very high, and I had the longest tenure. About eight months ago, they hired a new girl. She was very cute, killer body with a bubbly personality. She would light up a room whenever she entered. Somehow, she gravitated towards me. Her name was Vanessa Brown.

I was working full-time and going to school as well. My time was split between family, work, and school. One day after a long dinner shift at the restaurant, Vanessa came over to me. We talked about the stupid customers, how bad the cooks were and guessed how much our tips would be for the night. Somehow, out of nowhere my mouth began to talk. I asked her if she wanted to have a coffee after we got off. When my brain caught up to my mouth, it was too late. I began to blush and stammer. To my surprise, she said yes. She said that she would love to have a cup with me.

After work, I drove us over to the Starbucks and got us a coffee. I ordered a medium coffee, and she had a double vente latte whatever. Eight dollars later, we had our coffee and sat at a table to talk. Conversation flowed. I was amazed that this good-looking girl would want to spend time with me. During the conversation, I looked at my watch and noted that we had been here for two hours. I had school tomorrow, and she had the early shift. I drove her back to the restaurant to pick up her car. Before jumping out of my car, she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. "I had fun. Let's do this again." She said.

So it began. We had coffee at Starbucks a couple of times per week. After three weeks of this, she said, "I am off this Friday. I think you are too."

While I may have been a little dense, I was not completely stupid. I saw this as an opening and asked her out. "Hey, do you want to go out with me on Friday?" I asked.

She smiled and said that she would love to.

That began my relationship with Vanessa Brown. We went to Starbucks a couple of times a week and went on dates one or two other nights. After another three weeks, Vanessa mentioned that her roommate was away for the weekend and invited me up. On that night, I gave Vanessa my virginity. Later before falling asleep, I wondered if Vanessa gave me the same gift.

We continued on for about four months. I think I was falling for Vanessa. On our fifth month anniversary, I gave Vanessa a promise ring. She jumped into my arms and stuck her tongue so far down my throat that I almost choked. I was so happy.

We had been going out about eight months, when I was called in to work a double shift. One of the other waitresses had an emergency, and the manager asked if I could cover for her. I called Vanessa and told her that I could not meet her, and she was okay with that. I was two hours into the shift when the other girl rushed into work. The emergency had been resolved, and she asked if she could work the rest of the shift. She really needed the money. I said okay and changed clothes. I figured that I could get to Vanessa's apartment, and maybe we still could go out. Vanessa lived in a garden style apartment on the second floor. I climbed the steps to her apartment and passed her picture window. Glancing through the gap in the curtains, I saw my Vanessa making out with Peter Joiner. Peter was the morning manager at our restaurant. I was crushed. I knocked on Vanessa's door. She opened the door and gasped as she recognized me. She was flustered and began to mumble something about not expecting me.

Calmly, I said, "I understand that I was supposed to be working, but I got the evening off. I also understand that you have made alternative arrangements. I will not force you to alter your plans. However, I will ask that you give me my ring back. I will not have you using a hand that my ring adorns to jack off Peter Joiner."

I grabbed her hand and took my ring off. "It has been nice knowing you; and good-bye. If by chance, we should pass, please pretend that you don't know me, and I will do the same." I made it home and climbed into my bed alone.

The next morning, I left for San Diego to follow up on the leads I had on my father. As I think back to that decision now, maybe I was just like my father, running away rather than facing the betrayal.

I arrived home from San Diego at about six o'clock, just in time for dinner. Mom called everyone, and we all sat down to eat. Conversations flowed, and questions were asked. Tim asked about my vacation in San Diego. I lied and told him about the zoo and Sea World. I mentioned about the schools there and how they would be great for Randy and Tim. I looked at Michael. To me, he looked stoned. I looked over to Randy, and he just shrugged his shoulders. I don't think mom saw the exchange. Mom asked about Vanessa. I told her what happened. When I got to the part about my ring, she broke down and ran from the table.

"Good going, dude." said Tim.

They continued their banter. I looked around the table and again questioned what I should say. What could I say? How does a son destroy his mother? I felt I could hang Vanessa from the highest light pole, but could I do the same thing to mom. They both cheated and mom's crime was even worse. She had children by someone else. I now know how it feels to walk around with an atomic bomb in my pocket.

I decided to bide my time and think about it. Meanwhile, life continued on. Randy enrolled in the local junior college. He got a couple of scholarship offers, but didn't want to leave his brothers. Tim was in his last year of high school and looking for a collage to go to.

I came up with an idea. The next day, after school, I approached Randy and Tim and suggested they look at San Diego State University. Randy could transfer in as a junior and Tim could enroll as a freshman. They could share a dorm. Between Randy's grades and Tim's sports, I was sure they could be accepted. They thought about it a bit, but were hesitant. San Diego is a long way from mom, Michael, and me. I assured them that we would be fine. Tim came around and was all for the idea, but Randy wasn't sure.

Tim and I kept pushing for San Diego State. We printed applications and maps of the school. However, all our pushing just increased Randy's reluctance. It came to a head on Friday afternoon. We were in Tim's room, working on his application when Randy blew up. "I can't understand why you are pushing San Diego." He said.

"It is an exceptional school. You two will be great there, and you will have each other." I came back with. But Randy was not a dummy.

"Couldn't we go to University of Colorado? That way, we would not be too far from you guys?"

I tried to remain calm, "No; San Diego would be better."

"This is stupid." Randy yelled. "I think we should just go to Colorado. Tell me why we should go all the way to San Diego."

I knew the time had come. "Because dad is there." I whispered.

Silence.

They both had the look of total shock on their faces. 'Dad is in San Diego?' Followed by questions: 'how do you know?' 'Have you talked to him?'

They both began to spurt the questions out. "Where is he? Have you talked to him? Did you find him when you went to San Diego? Why did he leave? Can I talk to him?" I could see the beginnings of tears in their eyes.

I tried to calm them down and answer some questions. "I found some clues on the Internet. I traced them to San Diego. After my blow up with Vanessa, I just got in the car and drove there. I found him and talked to him. He misses us. Since then, I have been in contact with him. I asked him about you two going to San Diego, and he said he would help you guys out." I felt I must add some cautions, "Mom cannot know about dad. Their break-up was very painful to dad."

"What happened?" asked Tim.

"I will leave that for dad to explain." I said.

Randy jumped in. "We have to go there. We have to see him. Let's plan a trip to San Diego and a school tour. Winter break in coming in three weeks; we can go then."

Mom accepted Randy and Tim's idea of San Diego State. But, I think she saw this as the next step towards the disintegration of her family. I tried to be supportive, and that helped some. Another casualty was Michael. I was convinced that he would not do well with Randy and Tim gone. I was sure that he was doing more drugs. I kept watch on his schoolwork. His grades and attendance were both slipping.

The excitement around the house was contagious. Randy and Tim were planning their road trip to see the school. Secretly, they were just as excited about seeing dad. Through our emails, I could tell that dad was excited too. We discussed what he would tell them, and he had not come to any kind of decision. Mom was concerned about the boys and offered all her support as well.

Early Saturday morning, we packed up mom's car and gave them hugs. "Be safe boys," Mom said, and she turned to go back into the house. Michael and I gave them a hug, and I said, "Be careful. The road ahead has many unknowns, bumps, and blind curves. Go slow." They both got my meanings. With that they drove off.

They called to check in every couple of hours. From the calls, we tracked their progress. I estimated that they would reach San Diego at about midnight. A twelve-thirty, they called to say they had arrived. They were checking in and would call in the late morning. Mom and I wished them a good night. What I knew that mom didn't, was that they were spending the trip at dad's house. The message that I got was that it was going to be a long night for my brothers.

They sounded excited and happy through the next three days. San Diego was a great city, and the school was the tops. They said that they had met someone who could help with their applications. I never got the chance to speak to them privately, so was unsure what dad had told them. Thursday they were on their way home, and they pulled in Friday at five. We all met them at the driveway. We could see the smiles on their faces before they stopped the car. They both jumped out of the car and ran straight to me. I could not breathe because of the hug, they both applied. Afterwards they went to Michael, then mom. I noticed her hugs were not as intense. I think I knew what had been discussed.

Pizza was ordered, and we all gathered around the table to discuss the trip. San Diego was cool. The weather was always great, and their applications were already in their systems. They were sure that financial aid and scholarships would be able to cover the costs. After the conversations slowed down, mom excused herself to her room, as usual. Michael drifted off somewhere too. This allowed Randy, Tim and I some privacy. They related their greetings with dad. He was so happy to see Randy and Tim, and the feeling was mutual. Randy talked about what dad had told him about the breakup. He told them everything. On the way home, they both decided to let it lie and not destroy mom any more than she already was. They both figured that they would move there as soon as school was over in June.

In the following months, Randy and Tim prepared for their move. They completed their school year with good grades, in the case of Randy, and an MVP award for Tim. In the excitement, they did not notice Michael's withdrawal or mom's. I was sure that Michael had progressed to harder drugs. I attempted an intervention, but he blew up at me. I talked to mom about him. She was aware and had attempted to help a couple of times herself. Michael's problems and Randy and Tim's leaving were taking its toll on mom too. She did not look very good. She was looking like she had lost weight, and her hair was very dull and lifeless.

Just after Christmas, Michael disappeared for three days. When the police found him, he was stoned in a drug house. Mom and I got him into a rehab center near home. He was mandated to stay for two weeks in an attempt to clean up. He fought it all the way. His anger at mom became very evident during one of the family sessions. He let loose on her. He blamed her on forcing dad away. Mom was brought to tears. Each attack by Michael shredded her a little more. I attempted to protect her and deflect some of the verbal attacks, but Michael continued on. He blamed her for driving Tim and Randy away. He blamed her for everything. Mom bravely took all the attacks and said, "Michael; you are right. I do deserve all the blame. I did this, but since he left I have attempted to make up for it. Michael, you can blame me, hate me, but please don't hate yourself. You need to let go of your self-destruction and try to get better. Do this for yourself and your brothers."

After that the session ended for the day. I almost had to carry mom out to the car. She was so drained. By now, the pain was etched on her face permanently.

Two days after Tim's last final exam, Randy and Tim were packed and ready to head to San Diego. After farewells, they were off. They arrived two days later and phoned to report that all was well. They were moving into a small apartment outside of the campus and were very excited. I was sure that they would be spending a lot of time at dad's house too. They had seven weeks to get acclimated, and figure things out before the semester started. I was scheduled to make a quick visit in August.

Mom appeared happy that they were doing well. She never expressed concerns about them leaving. I think she was genuinely happy for them to be growing up and be on their own.

I was excited about my trip to San Diego as well. I was looking forward to seeing Tim, Randy and dad. I took the first flight out in the morning, and all three were at the terminal to greet me. It was a very happy reunion. There were smiles all around. At lunch, the jokes and memories flew. It seemed that the past five years had been forgotten. It was just a dad, and three of his sons having a great lunch together.

I was planning on spending a week in San Diego, but on Thursday, I got a call from mom. Michael had overdosed. Could I come home immediately? I was on a plane home less than three hours later. Little did I know that dad was on a flight two hours after that.

I arrived at the hospital and went directly to the ICU. I found mom sitting beside Michael's bed. She was holding his hand and crying. When she saw me, she rushed into a hug. "Robert, I tried to get him to stop. I did." She cried.

"I know, mom." I said. "We have all tried. You go home and get some sleep. I will stay here with Michael." She didn't want to, but I forced the issue. Reluctantly, she left, but only after agreeing to relieve me at first light. It was not more than two hours later when dad walked into the hospital room. I was shocked.

"I have been away for too long. This is my fault. I need to try to fix this. But how?"

"Dad," I began. I thought about this during my flight home, and I think I may have found a possible solution. "We need to get Michael some professional help. And I think we need to keep him with his brothers. Can we find a rehab clinic in San Diego? You may be able to help with his anger while Randy and Tim can help in the other areas."

We discussed the concept and worked out the details. Dad could get a company jet to fly Michael to a clinic in San Diego. They would work out the addiction issues, and all four would attend family counseling. Hopefully, removed from mom, Michael could begin to heal.

Dad spent the night in the hospital room with Michael and me. He left before first light. He still could not envision seeing his wife. When mom arrived, I explained the idea of rehab in San Diego. I laid out the pros and cons of being with his brothers and the distance from us. Surprisingly, mom was in agreement. She knew of Michael's anger towards her and felt that the distance may help the scars heal. Michael's anger was weighing on mom too. She looked even worse. I would swear that she had lost more weight since I left for San Diego.

Behind the scenes, dad made all the arrangements. Monday morning, an ambulance would take Michael to the airfield. He and a nurse would get on the private jet, and it would take them to San Diego. They would be met by another ambulance and taken to the rehab facility. The part that was unknown to mom; once comfortable in the facility, the doctors would decide when to re-introduce Michael to his father. I thought it was a good plan and hoped that it would turn out all right.

It was Sunday evening when mom, and I had just left the hospital. We got home and found Aunt Shannon waiting. She had coffee brewing and three mugs ready to go. We sat at the table to talk about tomorrow and Michael's journey. Then mom hit me with, "Robert; you should go with Michael. You need to be there for him. You have been the father figure for the past five years, and he still needs you." I looked at Shannon and saw agreement in her eyes. I was ambushed.

I laid out all the reasons why I could not go, and she and Shannon shot all of them down. Mom explained that she could be ok home alone. She said that Shannon was nearby to help her if she needed anything. She outlined the plan to me. I was to stay in San Diego, maybe with Randy and Tim. I would have the power of attorney over Michael's medical care and would get Michael through his rehab. We would stay out there and get additional therapy for Michael. When and if he was strong enough, I was to determine if he should come home to Colorado. Mom and Shannon estimated that it might take up to three months for Michael to be healthy sufficiently even to consider a decision.

I didn't want to go, but they all but threw me on the plane in the morning. The private jet could accommodate another passenger, and I settled next to Michael. In the end, my presence helped Michael through the trip. Mom made a good call.




Hello Father Ch. 02



Michael entered rehab a little more willingly this time. This time he was going to be in for twenty-seven days. Randy, Tim, and I visited often. I conferred with his doctors, and we held private meetings. Michael was making progress. Being in San Diego with his brothers was helping. The drugs were out of his system, and he was thinking with more clarity. By the second week, we brought dad in order to talk to the doctors about Michael. We had family therapy sessions once a week. All four brothers sat with the therapist to talk out some of the issues. It was during this meeting, we wanted to re-introduce dad.

The therapist opened the talk with questions about our father. We let Michael carry the talk. Michael let loose about missing his father; and how hard it was not having him around. Michael cried. Randy, Tim, and I had tears in our eyes too. The therapist asked Michael, "If you could say anything to your father right now, what would you say?"

Michael didn't even hesitate, "I would tell him that I miss him. I forgive him for leaving, but I want him back. I would ask him to forgive me, mom, and all of us."

With that the door opened, and our father entered the room. Michael looked up and saw him. His face began blank, then a flash of recognition, and afterwards happiness. He jumped up and ran to him. "Daddy," he kept repeating. Soon after Tim, Randy and I joined in the group hug.

It was almost as if a switch had been flipped in Michael. Gone was the moody, angry, drug user. In his place was a happy sixteen-year-old boy ready to face the world. The therapy continued for Michael and the family. I think we all got some of our issues resolved through it. However, nobody discussed the elephant in the room, what about mom? I felt that dad still had issues with her. And I had no clue about her side of the story. How do we talk to her about this? Can we get her into therapy to discover the reasons? How do we tell her what we know, and that we found dad?

I kept mom informed of the progress. I told her everything except for dad and his interactions. She seemed happy. However, I could detect some sadness also. I was thinking I could take a quick trip home to see how she was doing. Michael and I was there for about two months. I was sure that she would need to see me. I called her and told her that I wanted to come home. She told me that it was not necessary. I was insistent that I wanted to come home, and she was just as emphatic that Michael needed me more than she did. I left it at that, but I knew that I would plan a trip in a couple of weeks.

We were having a dinner at dad's house one evening the next week when my cell phone rang. I figured that mom was checking-in. I did not recognize the number, but it had an Aurora area code. I answered it. It was Aunt Shannon.

"Robert, your mom has died."

Edited by Barney R

Thanks to all that pushed me to finish the story. For a new writer, feedback is very encouraging. Even the negative comments can be constructive (most of them). Chapter III is mostly done. It will be posted soon. As I posted in the comments, having an anonymous writer saying, "Hey Asshole, where is chapter 2" pales in comparison to my boss saying, "Hey Asshole, where is the policy options memo on the Ontario project?"

Thanks to Barney R for the edits. If errors are found, I assume responsibility. I made a couple of changes after his reviews.



Hello Father Ch. 03



 Sandy's Story 

The chilly mountain wind chilled me to the core. The small gathered crowd stood at the graveside for the final words and the lowering of the casket. The grave stood in a small alcove amongst the trees. It had a view of the distant mountains. Mom would have liked that. Tim, Randy, Michael, and I stood in a line and each of us mourned. Sadness lay like a dark blanket over the bitter cold Colorado cemetery. 

Only one of mom's brothers could attend the service. He stood next to us and offered his support. Dad attended the service, but remained in the background. 

After the service, my brothers and I accepted the condolences from mother's co-workers and few remaining friends. Mom did not have a lot of friends. The few friends remaining stayed true even through the past five years. Mom didn't gather any new friends since dad left. As the oldest son, I had been tasked with arranging the service and coordinating the burial, however, almost all of the arraignments had been made by my mother. She had left detailed instructions for us to follow. 

Aunt Shannon was the last to leave the service. She came up to my brothers and offered her condolences. She pulled each of us into a hug. She held me tight. She had tears on her cheeks too. "Robert, can I have a word?" She asked. She grabbed my arm and pulled me off to the side. "Robert, your mother asked me to give you these after she died." She handed me two envelopes. "She would not allow me to tell anybody she was sick. After you read the letter, please call me. Please." She pleaded. 

I put the envelopes into my jacket pocket without a glance. 

Mom's death came as a complete surprise. I didn't know she had cancer. She concealed it well from us. My brothers and I did not have a clue that she was even sick. Thinking back, I noted that for the past few months, she did not look very good. I attributed it to stress and the issues with Michael. I felt even worse. I should have noticed. 

I recall little else of the phone call from Aunt Shannon. When she stated that mom had died, I must have turned very pale. Dad and my brothers noticed and stopped their dinner conversations. After I hung up with Aunt Shannon, I turned to them and said, "Mom has died. That was Aunt Shannon. She had cancer." 

Everyone was in shock. Michael began with denial, "It can't be. She can't be gone." Tears began to flow down his cheeks. Dad rushed to his side and grabbed him in a strong hug. Soon after Randy and Tim joined in. I followed. All of us were openly weeping. 

After a few minutes, we separated. The remainder of the dinner was left on the table. We all went out on dad's deck and sat in silence. Millions of questions arose in each of our heads. Finally one question won out. "Dad, what do we do now?" I asked. We all looked to our father to guide us through this. 

"We all need to get back to Colorado." He stated boldly. With that he got on the phone and ordered the company jet for our trip back home. Three hours later we were in the air. We landed in Denver and dad rented a car to get us back to our house. We pulled into the driveway at about one in the morning. As we pulled in, Aunt Shannon came out of the house to greet us. After hugs, condolences, and brief explanations we tried to get some sleep. We all went to our rooms. Dad left to get a hotel room. We tried to convince him to stay in the house with us, but he said he still could not. 

The next few days were busy with notifications, answering the phone from well-wishers, and funeral arraignments. 

After the service we did not have a reception at the house. It was just Aunt Shannon, dad and us. Aunt Shannon eyed dad cautiously. And dad wondered about her. Aunt Shannon became an occasional guest at the house for about five years before dad left. When dad left, she was at the house more often. She was a good friend to mom. 

Shannon put together a small meal for us and we sat mostly in silence. After dinner we cleaned up and went into the living room. Conversations were very limited with each of us in our own thoughts. Shannon began the conversations by asking a couple of questions. At first they were directed at me, but soon all of us were in the discussions. I noticed that Shannon was very skillful in her questions. She would ask an open question about a good remembrance and lead us to open our hearts. 

Dad didn't participate much. Shannon would give him a pleading look and then move on to one of us. This went on for a couple of hours. By the end of the night, we had suffered a great loss, but we were beginning the healing process. Shannon excused herself. She stated that she needed to get home. She said that she would be here for breakfast. Soon after, dad excused himself to go back to his hotel. 

I went up to my room. As I took off my coat, I found the letters. They were standard number 10 envelopes, plain white. I could feel that they were heavy with multiple pages inside each. My name was written in mom's handwriting on both. On one letter she wrote, "Open me first." I sat on my bed, opened the letter, and began to read. 

Dear Robert, 

If you are reading this, it means I have succumbed to the cancer. They say that confession is good for the soul, but I know my soul will not receive salvation. I know where I will reside throughout eternity. And I know I deserve it. 

I know that you and your brothers have had questions from the very beginning. I know that those questions remain unanswered even today. Through this last confession, I will attempt to bring the answers to light. I will try not to sugar coat anything. I am not asking forgiveness, I am only asking for understanding. 

Through the years, I have avoided the questions in an attempt to protect the innocent. I alone held the knowledge of our family's destruction. Now, as with many other things in our lives, I pass that burden to you. Robert, you have shouldered so much of our burden, I can only hope that this last task will set you free from many of the troubles. 

I will try not to be morbid. Our lives have been full and enjoyable and I am grateful. Even during the past five and a half years, our life was good. Your father and you boys filled me with happiness beyond what I deserved. My only sorrow is that much of what we had was based on lies and those lies may cloud the past memories. They should not. Your memories of our lives are pure and nothing I can relate should change that. You falling out of the pine tree in our back yard and landing on your arm is not corrupted. Your father's comedic attempts to splint the arm and get you to the emergency room are not tainted. You shall remember the events as they occurred, not thorough the taint of my confessions. 

Your brothers look towards you as the guiding light of this family and I hope that continues. You were always the strong one. Your courage helped your brothers continue, but more importantly, it helped me continue. Even when I knew that my time was limited, you helped me push forth. Robert, my loving son Robert, please forgive me. 

You have been told many times of your father and my first meetings. It was the first day of our freshman year that I met your father. But for my story, it must begin two years earlier. Robert, you must know that only one other person knows this story. I have been afraid to tell this story, but now I know I must. 

Most people think our story began when I moved to Colorado as a freshman. But it actually starts before when we were living in Stillwater, Oklahoma. 

My parents and all three of us kids were both born in Stillwater. I recall that my mom and dad were loving parents. Dad worked in an insurance office and mom took care of my two brothers and me. We had most everything we needed. I remember growing up in Stillwater as great time. 

We expected to live our whole lives there. It was a good life. My dad had a job in town that he liked and mom kept us kids fed and clothed. You have met my two brothers a couple of times. In Oklahoma, we had a large extended family and mom and dad had lot of friends and family in the area. Dad had two brothers and three sisters; all of them had many kids. Family parties and picnics included multiple aunts, uncles, nieces, and cousins. These parties had almost a hundred relatives from our extended family. My dad was closest to his brother Charlie. Uncle Charlie had three sons. Me, my brothers, and my Uncle Charlie's kids were as close as any family. I considered my cousins just as more brothers. 

Robert, you know how it is to grow up with brothers. Since I was the youngest, they tolerated me and protected me. I grew up as a tomboy. I could climb trees as good as my brothers and throw rocks almost as far. We were always together and our parents took turns watching out for us. 

I was about fourteen when it happened. We were climbing the Library Oak tree. This tree was one of our favorites to climb. It had big low hanging branches and was easy to climb. I was up about twenty feet when one of the branches broke under my foot. I grasped at a branch, but it was too late. I fell to the ground hitting numerous branches on the way down. I don't remember hitting the ground. My brothers later told me that I was knocked out. When I woke up, my brothers and cousins were surrounding me in concern. They took me home and laid me in my bed. 

This day, it was Uncle Charlie's turn to watch us kids and he got me a couple of ice packs for my bumps and bruises. As I lay in bed, Uncle Charlie began to undress me to look at the bruises. I didn't want him to. I knew all about boys and girls and knew that I should not be undressed around a boy. But Uncle Charlie assured me that it was best. He told me he had to look at the bruises. He took off my shirt and felt my chest. Then he took off my pants and felt inside my underpants. I was scared. I didn't know what to do. I began crying. He continued on. He told me that he was in charge and had to make sure that I was all right. He took total control of me and forced me to lie down. I cried as he raped me. I felt so helpless. I knew what he was doing was not right. But he kept doing it. It hurt so much. He held me down and took me.

After he was done, Uncle Charlie told me I must never tell anyone what we did. He told me it was my fault. I shouldn't have climbed the tree and got hurt. He told me that if I did tell anyone, they would blame me. 

I cried myself to sleep for the next week. My parents never knew. They thought I was crying because of the injuries. The bruises on my arms where he held me down blended with the injuries I got in the fall. My parents never noticed. 

Uncle Charlie continued to abuse me for about the next year. I didn't want to play with my cousins anymore, but my brothers forced me to. My parents just thought I was being difficult and left me in their care. Our family continued to be close to Uncle Charlie and his family. The abuse continued almost once per month. 

It was almost a year later that my father caught us. We were in my bedroom when dad got home from work early. Uncle Charlie was holding me down and raping me when dad walked in. I had never seen rage like this and have never seen it since; dad pulled Uncle Charlie off me and slammed his fist into his face. I remember the blood splattering across my naked body. He kept beating him; I thought dad was going to kill Uncle Charlie. 

My dad put Uncle Charlie in the hospital. I remember the ambulance coming to take Uncle Charlie away. The police arrived and talked to everyone including me. 

Immediately after that the family took sides. Without knowing the facts, most of the family wanted my dad to apologize to Uncle Charlie and let it go. They wanted him to drop all the charges of child molestation and rape. My dad was adamant. There would be no forgiveness. My dad's parents pleaded with him to forgive his brother, but my dad held firm. Eventually, my father gave them the ultimatum. Support us and send Uncle Charlie to jail for rape and child molestation or never speak to him again. His family tried to negotiate. But dad didn't budge. Uncle Charlie went to jail and we moved to Colorado. My father never spoke to a single member of his family from that day on. 

But that did not help me. Now I had the guilt of destroying my father's family along with what Uncle Charlie had been doing. From that moment on, I was damaged. I knew that I was damaged. I knew that I could never have a real boyfriend. I knew that a real boy would never want me. 

When I met your father in school, I was still afraid of boys. My parents had me seeing a therapist to help me get over the trauma, but I was still fearful. But your father was different. He never pushed me into anything I was not ready for. We studied and became friends. We began to complement each other. I mean that he had gaps in English that I could fill and my gaps were in math that he filled.

Through high school, I fell in love with him. He asked me to our Homecoming game and I knew what was coming. This would be the night that I would give myself to him. My doubts consumed me. For the week leading up to it, I couldn't sleep. Nobody had touched me since Uncle Charlie. I hoped that I could go through with it. I so wanted to please him.

The night went well. I pushed my fears down. He did not do anything that I didn't want him to. I was sure that he loved me. From then on, I knew that I would marry this man. 

When your father got accepted to MIT, I ran home crying. He was going to leave me. My parents got me calmed down enough to explain the problem. I had become so attached, so dependent that I couldn't be away from him. Both sets of your grandparents set about to get me accepted to Boston College. 

Boston is where the seeds of my destruction began to germinate. Your father had to study long and hard. He spent many hours in the library or with his professors. This left me alone. My fears and phobias emerged. He was not always around to protect me. It became so that I could not stand to be alone. I began to need other people around me. 

I developed some school friends that could always keep me company. It was a mixed group and they liked to party and drink. Nobody could afford drugs, so cheap beer was our drink of choice. On a couple of nights when everybody was packing up to leave, I became fearful. I didn't want to be alone. I flirted with a couple of the guys to keep them from leaving. The flirting never went anywhere, but I never told you father about it. Later that flirting would lead me to where we are today. 

After we got our degrees and moved back home our life stabilized. With my Colorado friends and family, my fears were pushed down. Our wedding was everything I could ever hope for. I was so in love. 

We settled into married life well. Your father got his dream job. I was working in an insurance company. Mine was not a difficult job and did not require a college degree, but it didn't matter. We were happy and the money was good. But my demons were not far from the surface and in just a few months, they burst forth. 

First, your father's job began to consume his hours. Again, I was left alone. The old fears returned. I turned to work friends to occupy my time and keep me from being alone. We began to stop after work to get a couple of drinks. Again it was a mixed group of men and women. 

One of the men was named Robert. He worked in the re-insurance section. Looking back, Robert looked much like your father. Unfortunately, he also had similarities to Uncle Charlie, in more ways than one. One night everyone had to get on home. The weather was not looking good and everybody wanted to get home before a storm began. Maybe it was my fears and insecurities or a little too much alcohol, but I flirted with Robert. He flirted back. We said that he only lived a couple miles from me and I decided to follow him home. Rather than him taking me to my house, he led me directly to his house. 

He offered me a drink and for some reason, I accepted. That drink led to another and that led directly to us having sex on his living room couch. Afterwards, I quickly left, got home, showered, and had cried myself to sleep before your father got home. 

The next day at work, Robert came to my desk. I tried to tell him that the last night was a mistake, but he shushed me and led me to a supply closet. "We cannot talk out there," he said. "People will hear us." He closed and locked the door. "Now what is all this about a mistake?" He approached me and pulled me in for a kiss. I fought him. But he became more forceful. He held my hands above my head, lifted my skirt and pushed himself into me. My memories of Uncle Charlie came flooding in. I was the little fourteen-year-old girl again. All my fears came rushing back as he took me in the supply closet. After he was done, he looked me in the eye, just as Uncle Charlie had done so many years ago and said, "You are mine now. You will come when I call. Do you understand?" I nodded in shock. 

From then on, Robert used me whenever he wanted. I was powerless to stop him. I tried to break free a couple of times, but I never could. I could not tell your father because of the guilt of destroying my father's family. This continued on for a couple of months. He was always forceful and aggressive when we had sex, almost borderline rape. 

When I became pregnant, I was elated. I wanted your father's children so badly and I hoped that Robert would leave me alone. It worked some. Robert only called for me a couple of times the entire pregnancy. Right before you were delivered, he called for me. I was powerless to stop him. He was upset that I was having my husband's child and demanded that I name you Robert. He held me down and fucked me until I relented. I cried and agreed. 

Robert, I had no idea that that man had contributed the sperm of your conception. Your father and I were trying to conceive and I was sure that we were successful. It was not until much later that I discovered the truth. 

When you were born, you looked so much like your father. We were so happy. I stayed home for a couple of months to care for you and my life was now whole. I would never be alone again. I always would have you to protect me. Even as an infant, you were my savior. 

When I returned to work, Robert was waiting for me. He began right where he left off, calling for me about once a month. He always held me down during sex and it always brought back memories of Uncle Charlie. Maybe Robert got a little bored with me, but soon he began to bring his friend Randy with him. Eventually they both took turns with me. Soon after, I became pregnant again. Again I used the pregnancy to stay away from Robert, but I was unsuccessful. In the ninth month, he came over to our house and took me in your father's bed. He told me to name the baby Randy to honor his buddy. I was to do this or he would be back the day after the baby was born. Again I relented. 

Randy was born and your father never suspected a thing. I was torn up inside. How could he not recognize what Robert had done to me? Many years later I discovered why I had lost respect for your father. 

I went back to work after a few months after Randy was born and discovered that Robert had been transferred to the east coast. I was elated. I was free. He could no longer force me, rape me, and control me. But his effect was deep. Through his actions, my husband was no longer my protector. Your father had never come to my rescue. It never occurred to me that my thoughts were utterly irrational. 

Regardless of the affairs, I became the mother that I wanted to be. I had two sons and I tried to be their everything. I tried to mix a little work in the process, but I felt that I was failing. I had little respect for my husband and I felt that he was more concerned with his career than me. I began the depression and loneliness again. A workmate named Susan came to my rescue. She convinced me to go out a little and enjoy myself. Susan had a close group of friends, unfortunately, I didn't know how close until they had trapped me in their web. Soon, Susan and I were going out weekly and partying. Susan usually ended up hooking up with one of her friends at the end of an evening and soon I was too. I don't even remember their names. 




Hello Father Ch. 03



After a couple of months, I became pregnant again. The partying came to a quick halt with the pregnancy. Tim was delivered nine months later. At the time, I still assumed that your father had been responsible for all three of you. You all resembled him with dark hair and easy smiles. Your father wanted to name him after his father, but by this time, I had lost my respect for him and would not give him the satisfaction. I took the name Timothy from the latest James Bond actor that I had a crush on. 

After Tim delivered, I went back to the partying ways. Susan and her friends kept me from being alone. A few months later, I was pregnant again. Your father was over the moon. He had three sons and was hoping for a daughter. I didn't care. 

When my fourth son was delivered I knew I was in trouble. I could tell that Michael was not your father's son. He looked different, acted different, and grew up with different skills. I prayed and hoped that nobody would ever find out. With Michael, your father and I decided that I should get my tubes tied. He was happy with four sons and I was dreading the fact that Michael might not be his. 

We continued on for a couple of years. I didn't go back to the insurance job after Michael was born. I stayed home and took care of you boys. I became the mother that I wanted to be. By this time, I had lost a lot of respect for your father. He never discovered my affairs and in my mind, that meant he did care. It meant he was not worthy of my love or yours. 

One thing that I need to clarify, I fully understood his work. I searched his briefcase every night and got jealous. I listened to his dinner conversations. Although he didn't realize it, I remembered all the stuff he was saying. I knew more than he gave me credit for. I knew about the secret airplane design and other secret stuff. He was doing great things and I was stuck here. I was envious. He was a great designer and helped prepare our country for the future and I was an adulteress. 

Robert, when you were about five, I began the cycle again. I began to volunteer at a couple of non-profit organizations in our neighborhood. We had a few meetings and had a couple of cocktails after. I began to use the meetings to avoid being alone again. Whenever I was alone the insecurities grew. I saw Uncle Charlie around every corner coming back to claim me. One night as I was walking back to my car, a person approached me. I instinctively turned and swung my purse. I felt the fear release as the purse connected with her face. But by the time I got my wits back I saw a young girl laying in the parking lot. She was just walking back to her car and I had broken her jaw. That incident shocked me. I then came to the realization that I needed help. 

A woman at my organization guided me to a psychologist. My friend led me to Dr. Shannon McKenzie. Dr. McKenzie began to explore my issues and it was soon evident that I was suffering from a form of Rape Trauma Syndrome. We began to work through Uncle Charlie and issues dealing with that. As we progressed to the last five years, Robert and my affairs, depression set in. She helped me break from the hold that Uncle Charlie and Robert had. I soon came to realize the damage that I had done to our family. She got me to focus on my husband and our sons. 

After a few months Dr. McKenzie became Shannon. Shannon brought me back from the edge. She helped me see that my past behavior had almost destroyed our family. Shannon got me to realize the blame I was putting on your father. She made me see that even if I tried to block your relationships with him. He was there, every game lesson recital, graduation. Even with his work. 

She got me to admit that I was trying to drive a wedge between my husband and his sons. She trapped me using the same terms against me that I used against my husband. I soon realized that he was nothing but a loving husband and father. My guilt and anger had been wrongly misplaced to him. Shannon helped me fall back in love with that man. 

Shannon evolved into a true friend. She dealt with the ethical issues and got advice from her peers so that we could allow that friendship to grow. She became such a mentor. Shannon saved me more than once. 

As a friend, Shannon came over to the house often. Sometimes it was to give me some advice. Other times it was to view the family and interactions, almost undercover, to see the natural love and affection of the family. With that information she would lead new discussions and offer additional suggestions to help. 

She cried when I related that I didn't think that Michael was my husband's son. I hoped that that secret would never come out. Shannon kept trying to convince me to bring the past out in the open, but I could not. Your father was a principled man. He would not accept any psycho – babble diagnosis. He believed that all people must be responsible for their own actions and we cannot blame our current actions on someone long gone. I knew how he would react if he ever found out that Michael was not his child. 

It turned out that I was right. Somehow, he must have discovered the truth. The note he left said it all. "I Know." 

Robert, you remember that days right after he left. You were so strong. I was never more proud of you than I was those days and every day since then. You have become the man I had always hoped you would be. 

On the third day after he left, I called Shannon and she came right over. She got me out of bed and convinced me that our sons needed their mother. She forced me back to the land of the living. 

We began anew as a single mother with four sons. We carried on and survived. Through all the trials and tests, we held together as a family. You and your brothers share much of the credit. But, your father also deserves credit. Through passing his knowledge and wisdom to his sons, they carried it on and have always made good decisions. His guidance and support, in absentia, helped all of us. 

I attempted to find him on more than one occasion. My first attempt was through all our friends, families, and work. Nobody had seen or heard from him. It was like he fell off the earth. 

I knew someone at his work must know something. He was too important to just let go away. A few months after your father left, the FBI contacted me. The Special Agent interviewed me. We sat down and he grilled me for over an hour. I told him the reason was that I had cheated on my husband and that he found out. I tried to convince the FBI that your father was an honest and trustworthy man. I told him that your father would never do anything to betray a trust. He left with that. 

A few months later, I called his work again to inquire. They still didn't know anything, but they let it slip that the FBI found him in Atlanta. From then on I was sure that the FBI was keeping tabs on him. I have asked a couple of times, but they would never tell me. 

After two years, I hired a private investigator. We didn't have a lot of money to spend, but he did do some comprehensive searches. He found nothing. 

We continued on. You supported us any way you could and your brothers continued their schooling. I know the sacrifices you took. I know that you should be in college. I know that you got a job to support your family. For that I am forever grateful. 

It was one month after you went to San Diego on your road trip that I discovered the next truth. I understand the reasons for your trip; Vanessa Brown was not the girl for you. She was a slut. I saw it and hoped that when you discovered the truth, you would not be too devastated. When you came back from San Diego, you were a changed person. You were more confident, more aware, and more helpful to your brothers and me. 

Prior to your trip, I had been feeling a little different. Food didn't taste good anymore. I was having some cramping and my weight was dropping. It was during your trip to San Diego that I sought to see a doctor. After a few tests, it was determined that I had cancer. Apparently it started in the ovaries. By the time we discovered it the cancer had spread. The prognosis was not good. I could delay the inevitable. But it would still come all too soon. 

It was then I made the second discovery. As I was searching through your father's desk for insurance papers, I discovered the DNA tests. I, like your father, discovered the true depth of my betrayal. I was devastated. Now I know why your father never returned. If the roles were reversed, I would have done the same. This information sealed my fate. I wanted to end my life early, but Shannon convinced me that arrangements must be made. 

From that point on, I made it my work to ensure that you and your brothers were established and could live beyond me. I pushed Tim and Randy to go to San Diego State. Then I pushed Michael to go there to be with them. I knew that you would be forced to stay with them. 

Robert, I did this for a couple of reasons. I did not want you to sit and watch me die. I had done too much to destroy this family to allow my death to become one more morbid event and I did not want to be celebrated as the hero in this tale. You all need to get a life away from me and live like your father wanted you to. 

When Tim and Randy were accepted I was elated. Michael's relapse provided an opportunity to get him with his brothers. I knew you would be forced to support Michael. I hated to use you that way, but I thought it was for the best. 

Robert, as I lay here in my deathbed, I look back to all the good that my life produced. You, Randy, Tim, and Michael are blessings to the world. You must keep them safe. I know that Michael has some issues, but maybe this truth will set him free. 

I know the end is near. There is one last piece of information I wish to give you. Last year, one of my friends told me that she thinks she saw your father in San Diego. Robert, you must find him. The realization that you boys could meet and talk to your father sent my spirits soaring. I know the disease will take me probably sooner rather than later. The knowledge that your father could step in to support you boys will allow me to die in peace. 

You must tell him my story. I know that he will never forgive me, but he must forgive himself. He must help re-build that which I destroyed. I never divorced him and he is the responsible party for Michael. He will take care of Michael regardless of who the sperm donor was. 

The FBI Special Agent may be able to help. Call him. 

As the days grow short and the pain increases, I know that the fault in this tragic comedy in mine. As I lay here alone dying, I realize that this is the only appropriate way for me. Alone. I loved one man and destroyed that same man. We built a family with lies and deceit. When that deceit was discovered, as it always will, our family crumbled like a house of cards. The only thing that held this family from crumbling completely was the character of your father. The love he imparted in you all got us through the toughest times. Your father, and I use that term with all respect, was not to blame for this mess. I know he is your father regardless of what any DNA test shows. He was there when it mattered. He is a good man. Find him. He will ask for your forgiveness. He will try to assume responsibility. Be his son, and accept the minor failings of a man and become a family again. 

Robert, the cancer is close. I can feel it consuming me, but I don't want to dull the pain with the morphine. I know that you want to come home to see me, but I cannot allow that. This is the way it must be. I must be alone and you must be in the embrace of your family. 

As I die, I have visions of you, and your brothers living with your father. I lay in bed each day hoping that you will find him. If you do find him, tell him I'm sorry and that I loved him. 

Do this for me. In my memory. 

Your Loving Mother 

Sandy 

PS: The second letter is for your father. I have given him my confession as I told you. If you ever find him, please give him the second letter. 

Robert folded the now tear stained letter and placed it back in the envelope. In his hands he held the second letter to his father. With his loss and the added knowledge, Robert cried himself to sleep that night. 

The next morning, all the brothers and their father shared the letters. Robert called and Shannon arrived soon after. Shannon began with her recollections of a troubled woman and her journey to recovery. Then she turned her attentions to healing this family anew. Shannon knew that this family would survive. The love and forgiveness was evident and her work would be short. She knew that these men would all support each other and thrive. Father and sons would be happy. 

With Tim and Randy enrolled in San Diego State and Michael living with them, Robert and his father made arraignments to sell their mother's house. After a week in Colorado, Tim, Randy, Michael and their father got back on the company jet and flew home. Robert stayed behind to close up the sale of the house. Most of the furniture was given to the Goodwill and only their personnel stuff was packed and shipped to San Diego. 

Robert took one last look at the home he grew up in. He remembered all the good times. The bad times didn't' come to mind. With that, he locked the door one last time, got in his car and began the drive west to his family.

Epilog

Five years had passed since their mother had died. In that time, the boys and their father flourished. Tim and Randy both graduated and had good jobs in the area. Robert got himself re-enrolled back in school and was on his way to a Master's degree. 

Michael put his past troubles behind him. Under the guidance of his father, Michael excelled in school and was going to the University of California, San Diego. Another aspect of Michael that grew was his music. Michael played guitar for a semi-successful band. They had shows almost every weekend in the Gas lamp district. 

Their father began to see a therapist recommended by Shannon. He and Margo are working through the past issues. There is hope for all of us.



Thanks to Barney R for the edits. If errors are found, I assume responsibility. I made a couple of changes after his reviews. 



Hello Father



"I didn't stop until I hit the Atlantic Ocean somewhere in Maine. I don't remember much of the trip east. I think I threw all my credit cards in a river somewhere and paid cash for everything. My first memories of that drive were when I reached to ocean." 

I looked over at Robert and continued, "When I reached the ocean, I just sat and looked out at the expanse. To this day, the only memories that are clear in my mind are me looking at the ocean and wondering how far I could swim before I would give up. How long before the waves would take me and erase the pain. I contemplated jumping into the water and swimming until I drowned. More than once, I stripped my clothes off, folded them neatly on the shore and walked into the waves only to realize that I couldn't do it. Darkness consumed me, but in the end, I wasn't even strong enough to kill myself." 

"I continued on and slept in the truck and only got a hotel room when I needed a shower. I stayed near the coast and fought with myself daily about the final swim. How easy it would be, painless, and final. Unfortunately, I had a friend that committed suicide, I remembered that pain and questions that he left behind. And even with all my burdens, I couldn't do that to you and your brothers. I was a looser and a homeless drifter." 

"I turned south and worked my way down the east coast. I wanted to conserve my money, so I got a job. I worked as a dishwasher in a restaurant in Annapolis. Stayed there for a little while then moved on. A couple of weeks here, a month there. I worked as a fry cook, waiter, and even drove a tram at Disneyworld for a couple of months." 

"I was working in an auto shop in Atlanta when the FBI found me. Apparently, the feds don't like it when people with top-secret security clearances disappear. I was working at a place called "Al's Brakes." Al was a big guy, very typical of a mechanic. He always wore greasy, shirt with "Al" over the pocket, and an unlit cigar always in the corner of his mouth. After I had been there for about two weeks, I came into work one morning; Al met me at the door. He said that there were a couple of guys that wanted to talk to me and he escorted me into his office. Waiting were two agents. As I saw them, the fear and pain returned. I thought they would take me back. I thought about leaving, but before I could turn one agent spoke, "It took a long time to find you and we really don't want to do it again. Please sit down." I figured that they had guns, so I sat." 

"They never did give me their names. Then in the usual government fashion, they began to question me. I should say interrogate would be a better word. I had dealt with feds and security checks numerous times and they did not intimidate me as much as they used to. They asked what happened and why did I leave. I answered that my wife and I had a disagreement and that I could no longer live with her. After some back and forth, they left it at that. The taller one stated that they would report to the government that they found me. I asked if they were going to report it to my wife and he said, "No." My wife was not a concern of theirs. I was sure they knew the reason I left." 

"They reminded me of my confidentiality agreements and gave me the usual implied threats. I thanked them and they left. On the way out, the shorter agent turned and said, "I understand. I'm sorry." I saw pain in his eyes. I nodded and nothing more was said. Back to work, Al had a brake job for me. I don't think Al trusted me after that and I left a week later. I always assumed that the feds kept tabs on me after that, and every once in a while, one would pop up to check on me. I just think they wanted to make sure that I wasn't spilling any secrets. I had my own issues. I barely spoke to anybody. I could not think of a single conversation I had had since I left. Talking to somebody or passing on their secrets was far from a possibility. I was damaged. I think people saw this and left me alone." 

"I was on the east coast for about a year before I headed west. New Orleans, Houston, Kansas City, Phoenix, and then the Pacific Ocean. Worked some. Thought some. Cried a lot. I tried to remember anything in our past that was said, anything missed. Anybody. I could not. I recalled every conversation with her. Every insult. What did I do wrong? Every good time, every bad. I did not see it. I wondered how you boys were doing. I did miss you. But I could not face you with what I now knew. By the end of the second year. Some of the pain was gone. I only cried on most nights. Some days, I had a good ten minutes of peace." 

"I began to piece tighter things from our past. Sandy had a co-worker named Robert. I met him a couple of times. Asshole. I never did like him and at the time I could not say why. I had met another co-worker named Randy. Same thing. She had a close girlfriend named Susan, and I remembered her boyfriend was named Michael. I recalled Susan saying how good a guitar player he was. He played in a rock band somewhere. Each remembrance killed me a little more. Facts revealed, but the reasons behind them never did. Did she do this intentionally? Why the names? I was in the pits of hell." 

"On the West coast, I began to find a new peace. I found that I loved to watch the sunset over the ocean. I would find a spot in the evening and watch the waves and sun until dark. I watched hundreds of them. Each one was different. Each one allowed me new time to think, new time to remember. I felt like I was healing. Maybe the reasons would never be revealed." 

"I found myself in Seattle. I was working as a waiter in a family restaurant when everything changed again. A couple of guys came in. They looked like nerds, pocket protectors and all. They laid out a drawing of an airplane. I gave it a quick glance. A small executive jet. As I waited for their order, I looked closer at the drawing. They ordered and I said "the air intakes are wrong." 

"What?" 

I said "If you change the air intakes you can increase the engine performance." 

"How would you know" one replied. 

"Just a lucky guess." I grabbed a napkin, laid it over the drawing and traced the engines and modified the air intakes. I took out a piece of paper and did some quick calculations. 

"Just by doing this, you will increase performance by about 23 percent." 

They were speechless. "The landing gear is wrong too." I left to give water to table five. When I brought them their lunch, they didn't say a word. They did leave a good tip. 

The next day, I was back waiting my tables. The lunch crowd was heavy and I was hustling. A guy in a suit comes in and sits in my area. I get him his iced tea and ask what he would like to have. He pulls out the drawing. I notice that my intake modifications have been added. "Did you do this?" he asks. 

"Yep" 

"You say the gear is wrong too." 

"Yep" 

"Can we talk?" 

"Are you going to order something?" 

"Your modification will increase performance by 22.7 percent. You were very close with your calculations." 

"I guess I am out of practice." 

"Can we talk?" 

"Not now, I'm busy." 

"How about later? It's important." 

"Alright, I get off work at four. Be here then." 

"At four, he was waiting by the door. He introduced himself as Brad Linsky and asked about my history and I told him that I did a little work with airplanes in a different life. He wanted more, but I didn't offer anything else. We discussed the landing gear. He then laid it all out. He and a couple of partners were developing a new executive jet. They had financing and solid orders when the jet was done. With my intake modifications, the jet could be profitable. They wanted more of what I had to offer. I told him that I would have to think about it. I didn't know if I was ready to get back a life." 

"I thought long and hard for over a week. Was my past life going to come up? Was it an issue? Did I still have the pain? I sat at Pikes Pier and watched the boats come and go. I watched the sunset over the Sound. I decided to call him. The next day, Brad met me at the restaurant and a limo whisked us to the airport. One hour later we were on a Citation jet headed to San Diego. On the plane, I looked over some more drawings of their executive jet and made a couple more suggestions. Brad took lots of notes. I told Brad about my history designing jets. My married life never came up." 

"In San Diego, we met with a couple of attorneys, drew up a contract, and the next thing I know, I'm a partner. My ideas were incorporated into the jet and some were sent to the patent office to be registered. One month later we were all set to begin serious work to finish the jet. I had to move to San Diego to keep up. The feds did stop by one time to talk. It was the same two guys that were in Atlanta, along with an Air Force engineer I had worked with in the past. They looked at what I was doing and reviewed the confidentiality agreement. They were not happy but they could not stop me." 

"Work was progressing well when we got a call from Airbus. They wanted to incorporate my ideas in their next generation passenger jets. Then Boeing called. We licensed the systems and the money began to flow in. Every jet built would send us some serious royalties. After a year, I got a house on the beach and now I can sit and watch the sunsets every day from my back porch." 

"I found that getting back to work, doing something I love, being wanted, was what I needed to regain my life. I have been here for almost two years now. We have turned the company into something respectable. Something valuable. I have buried myself in the work. There has been no one in my life for the past five years. This monologue is the most I've talked in five years. It has been lonely." 

I looked at Robert. His face showed a sorrow beyond his years. Looking around, I noticed that it was dark. The sun had set. The sports bar was very quiet with only a few stragglers. Margo caught my eye then looked away quickly. She too had tears in her eyes. 

"Well, where do we go from here?" I asked. 

"I don't know." More tears flowed. 

"Do your mother or brothers know that you found me?" 

"They don't even know I was looking for you. Nobody knows." 

"What are you going to tell them?" 

"I don't know. I have to think." 

"Well there is a great point that overlooks the ocean about a half mile west from here. I have spent many hours there watching the waves and thinking. " I asked if he had a place to stay and he said that he was good. Robert got up to leave. He looked ten years older than when he walked in. Slumped over, tired. His world was completely altered in just a few hours. 

I didn't know what to do. Should I give a father/son hug? Handshake? He answered for me by grabbing my shoulders and embracing me. I could feel his tears on my neck. And mine on his. 

Sandy had become a blurry history that I fight constantly to keep buried. But the boys were a different story entirely. I know that I was not their father, but I still let them down. They were, and still are, the true victims of this tragedy. For many a night, I cried for them. I was too weak to stay and help them. I hoped they would forgive me. I don't think I ever will. 

"Can we talk tomorrow?" he asked. 

"I'll be here." I replied.

And with that he walked out. I sat back down in a daze. My past life was now before me and I didn't know what to do. 

Margo came over and sat down. She brought a couple of beers and set them in front of us. She took a big drink of one. We sat quietly for a long time. "I saw him come in with trouble written all over his face." She began, "I thought we were going to have to break up something. I stayed close in case he started something. I didn't mean to listen in. I heard everything." She leaned in and hugged me and cried. "I sorry," she whispered. 

What was I going to do now? 

*****

Edited by Barney R

I have been told that this story needs an ending. Unfortunately, I have not had time to write it. I envision Part II as Robert's story and the impact the affairs had on the family. Part III is Sandy's story. Unfortunately, like the father, I don't know the reasons for Sandy's actions. 

In addition, I have begun on another story, so it will have to wait. 

Thanks to Barney R for the edits. If errors are found, I assume responsibility. I made a couple of changes after his reviews.