Chapter 1: The Father

“Mom, I need your help!” I sighed and plopped on the sofa next to her.

It was a lovely afternoon; my mom didn’t work, and I had one more assignment for school to complete. Then we’d be free to do whatever we like. I guess that was a wishful thought because, in the end, this assignment proved to be more difficult than I expected.

“What is it, angel?” my mom asked and looked curiously on the papers into my hands.

“Our teacher told us to make a family tree,” I said while she studied the piece of paper, I handed her.

“That seems correct, angel. I don’t see how I can help you.”

“Of course, it is, mother. Grandma Eva and Grandpa Peter helped me with all the information I needed for our ancestors. But, look this side of the tree is empty. I don’t know anything about my father, nor his relatives.”

“And that’s because there is nothing to learn about them. Ophelia, as I’ve already told you many times before, your father didn’t know that I was pregnant with you when we decided to parted ways. And neither did I. As soon as I found out, I tried to reach him and tell him the truth. But I discovered that he had already found another woman to replace me. I got angry with him and I did not tell him anything about you. He was so quick to move on, and I decided that you and I would be better without him.

“When I explained to my parents the truth, they respected the decisions I’ve made and promised me to help me raise you. I know that maybe I was selfish. I never wanted to hurt your feelings,” she said while trying to hold her tears back.

I know that all this must be difficult for her, but I believe I deserve to know more about my father. “At least can you tell me his name?” I pleaded.

“No. There is no reason to learn his name, nor anything else about him. He is selfish, arrogant, and a womanizer. I was very stupid to fall for his charms,” my mom says, her voice rising with every word she speaks.

Her anger, her disappointment, and her sadness wake up another of these strange visions…

I was in a fancy restaurant, full of well-dressed people. I saw my mom sitting at a table with a man across her. She looked a bit younger than now and happy. The man opposite her was in his late 20s or early 30s. He had black hair and grey eyes, his shoulders were broad, and he must be tall.

“I have something to tell you,” my mom said to him with a broad smile.

He chuckled under his breath and then added: “It must be good news then.” His voice sounded familiar yet unknown. His features resembled some of mine. He was my…

“I'm pregnant!” my mother exclaimed a beaming smile plastered on her face.

The man in front of her stopped breathing. His grey orbs darkened; one could tell they looked almost black. “You are what?” he said; his voice below a whisper.

“I’m pregnant with your child, but that wasn’t the reaction I expected from you,” my mother answered back. Her smile had vanished, while a painful expression started to form on her face.

His brows creased and he looked even more confused than before. “How exactly did you thought I’d react? Should I start jumping around with joy?”

“I thought that you were going to be happy. We are together for three years. Kids happen when you have sex; and last time I checked you and I used to be very active on that sport,” my mom says annoyed, her eyes shooting daggers at the man in front of her.

“How is this possible? We were always careful…”

“Were we?” my mother’s question takes him off guard. His brows are knitted as if he is trying to remember something. His eyes remain closed for a moment as realization dawns at him.

“Ana, you have to understand that making a family is not my priority and will never be. I am not husband material and it’s better to understand that now then later,” he says after he regained his composure.

“You said you loved me,” my mother murmurs while a few stray tears escaped her eyes.

“I did and I do. But I never said I wanted a family.”

“But I want a family. I want to get married and have children,” my mother yells gaining the attention of the nearby tables.

“In this case, I am not the man for you.”

“You are breaking up with because I'm pregnant with your child?” my mom enquires, her eyes painted with shock, pain, and disgust.

“You will be better without me and especially without this child…” he said; his voice full of loath.

“How dare you” my mother exclaims while her hand made contact with this man’s cheek. Without adding anything else she stood up and started to leave.

The man stood up, too, and grabbed her wrist. “I’ll warn you one last time; this child must not be born,” he said; emphasizing at each word.

“Ophelia? Wake up, angel… I’m here… You’re okay…” I heard my mom says and my eyes snapped open.

I was in our living room once again, although the lights were off. My head was hurting like hell and everything was spinning around me for a few seconds.

“Ophelia, talk to me, honey…”

“You lied to me. You were lying to me for the past eleven years…” I said; my voice hoarse.

“What are you talking about? I never lied to you.”

“I saw him. I saw the moment he abandoned you in that restaurant.”

Her eyes widened in realization. “Angel, please you have to understand that I didn’t want to lie to you. He left me when he found out that I was carrying his child. He believed that his career was more important than his kid. How could I tell you that your father threatened me to…” her voice broke; tears run down her face.

My mother was trying to protect me all this time, while I thought that it was her wounded pride that kept me away from my father. No, this man shouldn’t be called father.

“I'm sorry, mommy… I didn’t know… I didn’t mean to make you cry… Please, mom, forgive me…” I sobbed while she held me in her embrace, stroking lovingly my hair.

“It’s not your fault, angel. I should have told you the truth. You deserve to know the truth,” she said soothingly.

We stayed like that until we both calmed down. Then she helped me bathe. I was a mess; my black locks were all over the place, my eyes were red from all the crying, and some dried blood was under my nose. She dried my hair and braid them, like she always does. I slept with my mom that night in her bedroom.

“Ophelia, you know I love you, right? I always will…” my mom whispered to me.

“I love you, too, mommy. Always and forever” I whispered back to her before I drifted into a dreamless sleep.

The next day at school when the teacher called my name to present my family tree, I took a big breath and started explaining my maternal relatives. I looked once more at my father’s side of the tree; it was full of lies and empty promises. And I lied, too. I had come up with fake names that filled the previous empty side of the tree.

“How come I’ve never met your father before, Ophelia?” the teacher asked me when I finished my presentation.

I internally rolled my eyes at her and plastered a fake smile on my face. “That’s because he moved out of the country, when he and my mother divorced.”

The teacher looked surprised for a second, but she quickly covered it up and asked her next question, “You said he is a doctor, but you never mentioned his specialty.”

“I must’ve forgotten to. He is a neurosurgeon.”

She nodded pleased with my answers. “That’s very interesting, Ophelia. I’m sure you admire him a lot.”

“Oh, you could have never guessed how much,” my mind retorted.