I was going to tell them the truth. I really was. I couldn't stand being away from them any longer, and with the coaxing of my new girlfriend Zoe, I actually worked up enough balls to go back to Connecticut. It was summer, and I found their new house(or uh...mansion). I waited for hours for one of my children to come out. The anticipation was killing me. What if they didn't recognize me? That's a silly thought, I know. After all, I was their father. What if they hated me? Of course they would hate me after all the lies that their mother told them. I could only hope that they would hear me out and give me a chance. Finally, after 4 hours, the most beautiful girl in the world walked down the street. I knew it was my baby girl. She had my face. Her hair was in a long pony tail, and she was wearing overalls and a backwards baseball cap. Baseball. My baby loved baseball. Seeing her brought a rush of emotions back, when I said her name, I could hear my voice choke in my throat.
Needless to say, she was surprised to see me. As was her friend, who was with her. I recognized the girl right away, she was the spitting image of Alma Spier. It was like seeing a ghost. How eerie. She introduced herself to me, and I felt a pang in my heart when I said "Oh sure, Richard Spier's little girl", and shook her hand. Richard Spier. The man who put the final hole in my marriage. The man who was the reason my kids hated me. And no one knew it but me and Elizabeth.
That summer was the best summer I'd ever had. Kristy gave me the greatest gift ever–hope and trust. Two things that no one had ever given me before, and I let her down. Again. She kept begging me to let the rest of the family know that I was in town. I couldn't do that. I just couldn't. I couldn't face Elizabeth after what she had done to me. I couldn't face her bitch of a mother–who could out nag her any day of the week. I couldn't face her new husband, who thought I was a worthless jerk. Besides, he would probably rub his money and my kids in my face. I couldn't face David Michael, the son who was supposed to be mine. The son that I couldn't look at, because it hurt too badly. I caught a glimpse of him one day when I was picking Kristy up, and I couldn't help but let a tear fall from my eye. "What's wrong, Dad?" she asked me. "Nothing. I'm just so happy to see you." I lied.
As happy as I was to see Kristy that summer, it was unfortunate because Sam and Charlie weren't there. They were away at camp. Figures, I would have to pick the worst time in the world to visit and tell them the truth. In the end though, I couldn't tell Kristy the truth. She thought so highly of her mother, and I'd already put her through enough that summer, with asking her to lie about my being in town. I almost let her convince me to let everyone know I was in town. Almost. I checked out of my hotel and got halfway to the mansion, when I started thinking again. I had flashbacks to all of our fights when we were together. I remembered the nagging, I remembered the guilt I felt for leaving. I remembered that I would have to face Elizabeth's mother. And her new husband. I would have to let them know what Elizabeth had done. What a horrible person she was. I would have to face that innocent little boy, who didn't know who his real father was. It would be quite a fight. Fight or flight. I'm a lover, not a fighter. I abandoned my little princess on her birthday.
I instantly regretted what I'd done. Again.
Zoe tried to support me, but she just couldn't understand what I had done. She couldn't understand how I'd backed out, how I could let my children go on believing that I was a horrible person. We saw Kristy again, not long later. It was at a baseball game, of all places. She could barely look me in the eye, and I couldn't blame her. My little girl hated me, I'd blown my second chance with her.
Or so I thought. The next summer, I proposed to Zoe. We decided that we wanted to get married right away, but it just didn't feel right. It didn't feel right with no one close to me there to support me. Zoe suggested that I invite my children. I couldn't do that, could I? I couldn't just call them up and pretend that nothing had happened, like we were old chums. What was I supposed to say? Hey son, I haven't seen you in about 6 or 7 years, but I'm getting married, come be my best man? Yeah, right. Zoe reminded me that this could be my last chance. This could be my only chance to try to repair the damage that had been done.
I came up with a dirty, dirty plan. I could invite the three of them out to California. That way, they'd be on my turf. I'd butter them up, make them feel comfortable around me. Possibly make them like me again. Then I'd tell them the truth. The whole, ugly truth.
Unfortunately, it didn't work that way.
Things started out in my favor. For some reason, Elizabeth allowed them to fly out and see me. Charlie, Sam and Kristy. It was the first time I'd seen my kids together in years. It was surreal. Needless to say, they thought that I was a worthless jerk who'd abandoned them. And they hated me for it. I'd hate me too, if I were in their position. They had no idea about their mother, they had no idea why I hadn't invited their younger brother out. They had no idea about the letters, gifts, attempted phone calls. And Zoe was under strict orders not to tell, even though she was dying to reveal the truth. It was a rocky visit, a lot of bitter feelings were finally brought up. The years and years of resentment were finally exposed. Charlie tore into my like a knife. He asked me how I could abandon them, how I could leave their mother. How I could never write or visit. How could I not invite David Michael? This was it. This was my chance.
"Charlie, your mother–." I started.
"DON'T YOU DARE BLAME THIS ON MOM!" he screamed at me.
I glanced around the room. Zoe was looking at me, nodding her head, coaxing me to tell the truth. Sam and Kristy wore identical expressions on their faces. Curious, but defensive. Defensive of their mother. That's when I realized something. They loved their mother. She had been there for them, even though she'd tried to keep them from me. I was the jerk who ran out on them. She was the saint who raised them, protected them, worked a full-time job with 4 kids. I was just the jerk who ran out on them. I wasn't even "Dad". I was just "Patrick." They had the perfect vision of Elizabeth, and because I loved them, I couldn't ruin that for them. They'd already had lives full of disappointment, and I couldn't mess up the only person who had given them hope. Even if it was a false hope, even if that person was evil and vindictive. That was the best thing that I could do for them, the best decision I could make as their father.
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There's my story. It's been a couple of years since my wedding, and while things have gotten better, they'll never be what I want them to be. I can't fix those lost years, and I don't know if the truth will ever come out. Nor, if I want it to.
Elizabeth and I are still the only ones who know about David Michael's true paternity. In fact, Richard Spier doesn't even know, and he probably never will. It's been years, and he still hasn't pieced together the puzzle. Perhaps speculation will come when more people start to see the resemblance, but until then I'm fine with people thinking that he's my son. I've come to terms with the fact that most people think that I'm just a dead beat dad who ran out on his family. I know that I'm not. Elizabeth knows that I'm not.
I believe in karma, and I know that all of Elizabeth's lies will catch up to her. I believe that she will be exposed eventually, that everyone will find out the truth. That's what keeps me going, that's why I'm so okay with it. They'll see that I'm not the dead beat dad that they thought I was for so long, but just a man who's been hurt, a man who was punished by his ex wife for not being able to take the pain. If not, I'm fine knowing that deep down inside, she feels guilt, she feels the fear of being exposed. That's enough for me.
Charlie's birthday is May 17th. Sam's is January 25th. Kristy's is August 20th. David Michael's is April 1st. How ironic. And even though he's not my son, and it's too painful to remember, I do anyway. Because that's the day my life came down to one question, one option. Fight or flight?