Lost Dad: Dan Smith

One: "He wants to meet you"

Hi Guys! My name is Avery and I love Bastille, Arctic Monkeys, and Ella Eyre. I'm also a huge Whovian! 

Hello! I'm Dani (@danistormer88)And I love Bastille, Twenty One Pilots, the 1975, and Arctic Monkeys. I'm a big Whovian as well as a Potterhead.

DISCLAIMER: This work could be potentially triggering. There's heavy mention of sexual and physical abuse and self harm relevant to plot. If these topics make you uncomfortable or triggered, please DO NOT READ this. 

I hope you enjoy.

(If you like this, I have a prequel/sequel on my profile titled "Found" if you're interested)

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Dan POV:

My phone buzzes in my hand. My ringtone fills the air. The phone number isn't in my contacts but looks like a business number so I answer. 

"Hello. Is this Mr. Smith?" A woman's voice asks. 

"Yes..?" I respond. 

"I'm Maria from the LSSI, or Lutheran Social Services of Illinois." My heart stopped. My ex girlfriend moved to Chicago when she realized she was pregnant. "We're calling about a child you had with..." Theres a pause, as if Maria is looking for the name. "Ashley Caraway." Shit. 

"What happened?" I ask, hoping nothing bad has happened. 

"Your daughter Laura has been in foster care for a few months and records show you're her father." Maria says, keeping a cheery voice that she's probably instructed to keep. 

"Why is she in foster care?" I ask impulsively. 

"Her mother disappeared one night last October when she was out and about at night. Nobody knows exactly where she went that night, but when Laura was questioned, she said her mother was probably at a club or bar." Maria says simply. My stomach twists into a knot of hell. 

"Listen, I really have to go. Could you email me the rest of the information please?" I ask, my mind red hot and in full on panic.

 "Yes, you'll have to give your email, though." She replies. I give them my email. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Smith." She says, hanging up. I nearly feel like I'm about to vomit. This can't be real. 

Laura POV:

I write everything down. Not just reminders like "do laundry" but like little things people do or say, like how my one of my foster dads (Ethan) always scratches the back of his neck when he talks to me. Memories have special ways with me, and I don't forget anything. I take it for granted, but there's one thing I wish i could forget, which is the pain I used to feel when my mom would leave every night in a slinky outfit that looked like it would fall off if I touched her, and returned with a big pile of cash and messy hair and runny mascara on her cheeks. She didn't do that to support us, but to support herself. I bought most of my own clothes and food with cash I get when I walk to Wrigley Field from our apartment and play my ukulele, hoping people drop money in there. I thought my life couldn't get much worse, but then one night about two months ago. It was October 12 when My mom didn't come back. I waited for the morning, she still wasn't home. It was a Sunday, so I waited all day for her. I had wanted to tell her good news, I forgot what it was, unimportant. She didn't come home and it had been 24 hours. I remember picking up my phone that night, dialing the police station's number. I didn't dial 911 because I didn't think it was an emergency. I don't remember the call clearly, all I can remember is that night, three social workers came to my apartment and helped me gather my things. I went to the household of Ethan and Michael Kelly's home. At the time, they had a teenage boy who refused to speak to me named Rory. I shortly shared a bedroom with him until a week later he was moved to another house due to "Behavior issues". I never heard from Rory again and never would want to. I slept on the top bunk of a swaying bunk bed and heard him watching videos online until 2 AM. Ethan and Michael are really nice to me, they took me shopping the day after I came. Michael is a great cook, at least compared to the cruddy deli near my old apartment. The smell of meatloaf wafted through the house. "Laura!" Ethan's familiar voice calls. "Time for dinner!" 

"Coming!" I yell, rolling out of the bottom bunk and out the bedroom door. I have a seat at the table in the breakfast nook that we eat almost every meal in. 

"We got an Email today, Laura." Michael says as Ethan dishes out the meatloaf. 

"Oh yeah?" I ask, my mouth half full. "From whom?" 

Ethan and Michael exchange glances. "So... You know your Dad, right?" Michael starts. 

"Yeah, not really." I say, swallowing meatloaf. 

"He wants to meet you!" Ethan blurts. 

 "ETHAN!" Michael yells, causing me to almost drop my glass on the floor. 

"Sorry.." Ethan says in a small voice, pushing his food around on his plate. 

"What Ethan means," Michael starts in a calm voice. "Is that your dad wants us to call him. Would you like that?" He asks, making his expression unreadable.

 "I guess..." I say, more enthusiastically than it sounded in my head. 

"Great!" Michael says, making it obvious he wanted me to accept his request. Ethan smiles, finishing his meatloaf. 

"So, tell me about him." I say, not knowing how to carry on the conversation.

 "His name is Dan, he's about thirty years old and lives in London." Ethan says, reading off his phone. 

"London!?" Michael interjects, giving Ethan 'the look' that says 'You didn't say that earlier.' 

"Cool cool." I say tapping my toes on the hardwood floor. 

"It's a bit late over in the UK, so we can't call tonight." Michael says, clearing our plates.

 "You best get your homework done and head to bed." Ethan says, joining Michael at the sink. 

"G'night" I say, relived that I didn't get a lecture or have to do dishes. I wasn't going to be able to focus on my homework or sleep tonight. I couldn't, no chance. I sprint down the living room to my small bedroom and flop on my bed, almost crushing my ukulele in the process. Who is Dan? I don't know if I want to meet him. He's about thirty according to Ethan, so that means since I'm 12 now, he must've been about 18 when my parents were a thing. Mom must've been in University with him. I wish I knew his last name so I could look him up. I lay with the light on, pondering if I should do research or try to sleep. I hear the back door close and two sets of feet stepping outside. Perfect. I could snatch Ethan's laptop that I sometimes use for homework and hope he's signed into his gmail. I take off my shoes to cause less noise. I tiptoe out my door and turn off lights as I creep through the house. Ethan's laptop comes into view as I turn a corner into their bedroom. I leap over to their bed and pick it off the navy comforter, dashing away as fast as I can back to my room. I curl around it as I close the door and leap onto the bottom bunk in a frenzy. I open it and turn down the brightness. It's open to his gmail. Great. I scroll through messages, scanning addresses for something that might be him. I don't see anyone by the name of Dan or Daniel, but I do see an email with my name, Laura Caraway in the subject box. I click on it and see long paragraphs typed, explaining that the agency that landed me here with Michael and Ethan contacted him and said that I'm apparently orphaned and that he is  my father and he wants to see me. His full name is Daniel Campbell Smith. All his personal contact info was at the bottom along with a picture. He looked familiar, familiar enough that I could have seen a picture of him in our house... but Mom never talked about him. He had dark hair, the same color as mine, that stood up. He wore glasses, but they didn't cover his sparking blue eyes that also resembled mine. He had a bit of stubble and looked a bit younger than thirty. The resemblance was uncanny. I returned the computer to it's original position in Ethan and Michael's room. I enter the bathroom and look at myself and think, "This man, my father, has found me. I don't know what kind of person he is, or if he plans to ever meet me face to face." I say to myself. I take out my contact lenses and think about how I probably got my cruddy vision from him. I wonder how alike we actually are, but decide to leave that for tomorrow. I walk sluggishly into my room and turn out the light, climbing under the covers with my jeans and tee shirt still on. My mind doesn't allow me to think about Dan, but makes me drift off to sleep.

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Kind of a slow start, but it'll pick up!