Father First| An Alan Rickman Story

Mummy Dearest

     Much to Alan's dismay, Ashleigh was still not really talking to him. They never did get their day out to make up for Mother's Day. On top of that, his lawyer was right. The judge granted Makenzie supervised visitation that could become partial custody if things went well. He wasn't even sure why he was required to be at the court meeting since they barely let him speak. Ashleigh told the judge she wanted to have her mother in her life and that sealed the deal. He was told all visits must take place in his home and he had to be the supervisor of the visits. 
     Honestly, this was a relief to him. He desperately wanted his daughter to have the one thing she wanted most, a mother, but he didn't trust that woman. He was terrified she would come into Ashleigh's life, get her hopes up, and then abandon her again. At least if he was present for each visit, there was less of a chance for her to hurt his daughter.

When the time came for the first visit, Ashleigh didn't speak to Alan about it at all. He paced the floor in his living room while she rummaged through her wardrobe looking for the perfect outfit. He knew she was dreaming of all the things she had always wanted from a mother: someone to teach her how to wear make up, a friend to gossip about boys with, a confidant, a woman to teach her how to be a woman. He didn't have near as much hope for the situation, but when the knock came at the door, he opened it and swung his arm out, letting Makenzie inside anyways.

"She is getting ready, take a seat for now." The disdain in his voice was clear. He didn't speak to her again. He sat down at the opposite end of the room refusing to make eye contact with her. He was famous for his facial expressions and when this man didn't like you, you knew it. He was side eyeing her with a look to kill.

"Honestly, I was expecting a warmer welcome..." she said, turning towards him.

"Hmm.. what did you expect me to do? Jump up and down when you came in? Swoop you up and carry you across my threshold? Profess my undying love for you?" he chuckled. " For 15 years, I've seen you as nothing more than an egg donor."

Her face started to turn red with anger and she snapped back, "Don't insult me, Alan. I am her parent too, you can't change that."

"Giving birth to someone is not the same thing as being a parent. Come over here." He led her to his mantle that was lined with photographs.

     "These photographs capture some of the best memories with my daughter. This first one is of her at six weeks old, the woman holding her is who she is named after. Ashley was her nurse when she was in the hospital, when she was recovering from awful withdrawals because of the drugs you did. That innocent baby screamed for the first few months of her life, she wasn't able to eat on her own, she suffered several seizures, she was just absolutely miserable. Yet, this photo marks such a happy occasion, the day she finally got to come home from the hospital."

His tone was beginning to shift from angry to pride filled and the biggest smile stretched across his face as he focused on the next photo. "This one captures her favorite childhood game, "acting." After I had taken her on the set of a film I was directing, she became obsessed with acting and making home videos she called movies. She would write her own little scripts, pick out her own outfits, and then tell me which part I would play. She also made me the director in charge of filming each movie. In this particular photograph, I was a little boy who had lost his first tooth and she was the tooth fairy who left one million pounds under my pillow. She has always been such a ham." He was beaming with pride by the time he reached the final photo.

"This one was taken just last year. She is holding a short novel she wrote. Her school had a writing contest that asked each student to rewrite their favorite novel from the perspective of any character besides the main character. She chose to write To Kill a Mockingbird from the perspective of Tom Robinson. She won the contest and her teacher called me personally to tell me how moved she was by Ashleigh's writing. She is absolutely brilliant for her age." He turned to face Makenzie and his smiling face turned stern again.

"These are the things that separate you and I, the things that make one of us a parent and one of us just a life giver. I was here for all of these moments and each milestone in between. I stayed up all night with her as a newborn. I saw her first steps. I have taken her to her first day of school each year. I've cared for her when she's been sick and held her when she's cried. Raising her is the best thing I have ever done, but I have done it completely alone. If you want me to accept you as a parent to my child, you have to prove yourself worthy enough to hold that role." He could hear footsteps coming down the stairs.

     He whispered to Makenzie to prevent his daughter from hearing, "She's truly wonderful, please be good to her."

"Daddy, give us a little space, please?" Ashleigh was bouncing with excitement.

He nodded in agreement, "If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen." Just before he turned to walk away he mouthed, "good luck," and gave her a wink to encourage her.

Once in the kitchen he realized he was too far away to eavesdrop. He went back to pacing and started practicing his lines for, Something the Lord Made, to distract himself. After what seemed like hours, they still weren't finished talking and he had fallen asleep at the kitchen table.