Behind The Mask

Chapter 2

Anouk’s POV

Another exhausting appointment at the consulate. Apparently, it’s a lot of work to establish the paperwork trail proving that I was born and I exist. I’m not going anywhere for the next 2-3 weeks, by the way things are shaping right now. Mom is all alone managing our little hotel…and it’s full tourist season!

Fuck you, dad! Fuck you for being a coward! Fuck you for weaving a web of lies and messing up with mom! Fuck everyone!

I lie in bed with a groan and the throbbing beginning of a headache. I reach for my pack of cigarettes and light one. I draw the smoke in the innermost depths of my lungs, keep it there, and expel it slowly.

Why does my life have to be such a mess? Why did mom have to go through this pain and humiliation? Just because the fucker who procreated me happened to have been married BEFORE he married mom, and not to one – but TWO other women. Without divorcing any of them!

Yes, ladies and gentlemen of the jury – my dad was not a bi -, but a trigamist. One wife in the US, one in South Africa and one in Brazil. And if his plane didn’t have to make an emergency landing here in LA while he was piloting it…well, we’d probably never have found out the truth. All three wives and 5 children he fathered would have continued to think, each to their own, that they claimed exclusive ownership on his name.

Right now, I don’t exist, officially. Since he wasn’t legally married to mom, I wasn’t legally recognized as his child. So I have to take my mother’s maiden name and accept my status as a bastard child. I don’t give a fuck about that…honestly. What irks me is the fact that the first 24 years of my life were a lie. Every family photo is a lie. Every Christmas celebration, every wedding anniversary of my parents were a lie. Goddamn lies everywhere!

We came here, a worried wife and daughter, to inquire after his health…only to find out that there were two more families asking for him. We became quite famous in the hospital ward…

Famous! This reminds me of the famous Michael Jackson and the disruption to my already busy schedule…Can you believe he inquired after my name and room number at the hotel front desk??? Thanks God the only direct consequence was a rather awkward phone call which I ended as soon as possible.

Now I can get back to my usual consulate appointments which will thankfully end with a brand new set of birth certificate, ID and passport. Goodbye Anouk Williams – happy birthday Anouk Zuiders!

There’s a knock on my door. What the hell?

“Who’s there?”

“Room service.”

I frown.

“I didn’t order anything, there must be a mistake.”

“Please open the door.”

“I don’t need anything!”

“Please…”

“Go away!”

Another knock. Louder and more insistent this time. The fuck? Someone’s cruisin’ for a bruisin’ as they say in stupid movies. Alright, you want it – you get it. Come to mama!

I open the door wide and my face falls, as my arms rise helplessly to heaven. What have I done wrong??? What deity from what religion did I piss off so badly? Why do I have to have Michael Jackson standing in front of my door with that smug grin plastered on his face???

“I thought I told you to leave me alone!”

“And I don’t remember agreeing to do so” he retorts. “Look…please…just let me in and give me 5 minutes.”