Unexpected you

Introduction

When I was three years old, my father left me, my sister Isabella, and my mom. In the summer of '91, when I turned thirteen, he was forced back into my life. Many times I wished that I could somehow erase that moment from my memories, but to this day, I can still recall the agonizing sequence of events. My dear Mother did try her best to be a good mom, but she just couldn't stop making decisions that were detrimental to our lives. That summer, on a hot humid morning, she entered my room to inform my sister and I that we would be spending the entire summer with our Father. Isabella was livid over the news and naturally reacted the only way she knew how. Ranting and acting out in an outrageous manner, while I sat on my bed in silence. I tried to find some courage to ask my mother why she would even consider sending us with a stranger, but could do nothing except nod in agreement. To be honest, I was mostly confused and unsure of how to feel. Because I waited for so long to see my father again and be a part of his life, but as the years went by, I no longer knew what I wanted or expected of him. Before I could even mentally accept what was to come, Isabella and I were boarding a plane bound for the island of Puerto Rico. Four hours and forty two minutes. That was the duration of the flight. A short time for most, but an eternity for a young girl who had always been afraid of heights. Elio, aka "Worst father of the decade" would have forty seven days to get to know his daughters. However, the countless opportunities falling on his lap would not matter. He never wanted to make an effort. He wouldn't even try. In all fairness, we did spend an entire day together, but that "chore" as my father viewed it, was forced on him by his wife Margie. She was relentless. Threatening to kick him out of the bedroom and making sure he'd understand the consequences for failing to oblige her demands. So there we were, three days before returning back home to Chicago, on what I have always referred to as the "field trip from hell". It was unbelievably hot that day, and we did nothing but walk in silence and deal with awkward breaks in between. I loathed every minute of that day and my stomach twisted and turned the entire time. I just couldn't cope with knowing that we were a burden, and it pained me to know that our father had to be forced to spend time with us. When the day to return back home finally arrived, our father drove us to the airport and just left us at the entrance. No words were shared, not even a hug, and in that moment— I struggled to hold back the tears. How could a man detest his daughters so? I don't think I'll ever understand. That evening, at the airport, Isabella and I did something we had never done before. We held hands. We comforted each other as we navigated through an airport we weren't familiar with, and struggled to ask for directions in Spanish. On the plane ride back home, I gazed out my window the entire time. Staring at clouds, searching for the sun, and trying to make sense of the past two months. I hoped this trip would mark a new beginning—an opportunity to forgive and begin anew, but Instead, I was coming back home with a shattered heart. A shattered fucking heart. Till this day, it is the only thing that my father has ever given me. He was the king of losers and I knew that if I never saw him again, that I would be more than ok with it. However, in the years that followed, I found myself trying to fill that void in my heart. Wasting my teenage years on a quest to gain the love and attention of a man. An admission that embarrasses me, but what I believed would take away the emotions I harbored of feeling unworthy. Perhaps I should have been a bit more like my twin sister instead of the clingy girl I had turned out to be. Isabella was without a doubt the toughest of us both. She was confident and the bravest person that I knew. She never cared about what anyone thought of her, and she had no restraints when it came down to snapping on someone who truly deserved it. To top things off, she was blessed with all the good genes, while I was the scrawny tomboy no one ever deemed pretty enough to date. Then along came Shawn. The boy with the beautiful light brown hair and eyes to match. The boy that all the girls crushed on, but to my surprise, only showed interest in dating me. Of course I had never dated before, so when he gave me my first kiss and said that he loved me, I fell head over heels. Hard and fast! A few short months later and obviously so, I gave in to Shawn and kissed my virtue goodbye. A decision I struggled with, but I couldn't cope with the thought of losing him if I didn't give it up. A consequence that plagued my mind. That experience was so unbelievably unnerving, and the whole ordeal felt rushed and lacking in desire. In the end, I was left with a memory that I wished I could forget. Around the fall later that year, at the age of sixteen, I ran away to live with Shawn. It was without a doubt the biggest mistake of my life, and I found myself struggling with my inner demons in the months that followed. Shawn, the boy I had been so obsessed with, wasn't at all who I believed him to be. He became abusive and controlling. Physically and mentally breaking me down every chance that he got, and locking me inside of our apartment for hours or days at a time. I was broken to say the least, and I found myself thinking of doing things I'm not proud of or care to admit. At the time, I blamed my situation on Elio. He had denied me his love and acceptance for all those years, and turned me into the needy and broken girl that I was. Do parents understand how depriving a child of love could affect them? I guess some don't. Or maybe...some don't give a shit. Eventually, I started to feel like I would never ever get a chance at happiness. I was convinced that I was meant to suffer, and that perhaps love would never be in the cards for me. Once again I felt lost and shattered. The same way that my father had made me feel all those years back.