The Parental Bond

The Parental Bond

Chapter One... New School

It's something that every child wants to know if they are raised by a sole parent... Who's my daddy? Or, where's my mommy?

For some parents, the answer is simple. 'Oh, daddy lives across town. You can see him when you want.' Or 'Mommy's in heaven, and she's watching over you and making sure you're okay.' But then there are the parents who have the bitter disputes with their partners leading to an ugly divorce with one hell of a custody battle where parents become greedy. Parents only want the child or children so that their ex can't have them. What matters to the child is irrelevant.

Then, there are the moms who have children, and can't even tell their kids who their father is because they don't know themselves. And unlucky for me, I fall squarely into that category.

Being raised as an only child by a reckless and free-spirited mother left me severely disadvantaged. I'd never been extremely close to my mother, even though it's only ever been the two of us. There was always that wall. The wall that left us distanced, unconnected. I did love my mother, don't get me wrong. She's basically the only person I've ever had in my entire life. Except for my grandmother, but she lived in Australia now with the man she'd married on a whim. I was always closer to my grandmother, always able to connect with her unlike anyone else in my life before.

But I wanted a father.

Mom had dated (if you'd even call it that) some of the most ridiculous men in the world! She'd shuffled me from town to town, seeking out the man she thought she wanted. Guess that getting pregnant at eighteen to some random guy was her true personality. And though she never ever dared mention it, I knew that I was saddling her down. She couldn't just pawn me off on my grandmother, because nana would never allow it. She was always encouraging my mother to be more of a parent than an older, somewhat distant sibling to me.

If she'd never had me, where would she be now?

The thought actually made me shudder.

I knew my mother was wild. My grandmother had once told me that I wasn't the first child she'd conceived, just the only one that stuck. Apparently she'd been pregnant before. I wasn't surprised, no. But I couldn't help but wonder what sort of brothers or sisters I might have had if my mother had've had them too.

My life sucked. Yep, that was the way I saw it. Sucky. At sixteen I had much more maturity than my mother, and this morning I decided to bring up the 'd' word at breakfast again.

"Morning, peanut," mom said as I walked over to the kitchen. She was sitting at the table reading the latest fashion magazines. As usual.

"Hi, mom," I greeted her dully.

"What's with that sad face, Holly?" mom sighed. "Are you having boy troubles?"

"Mom, we seriously moved to this town like, two days ago!" I groaned. "I do not have boy troubles. I don't even know any of the boys around here!"

"Ease up, princess," mom frowned. "What's on your mind, then?"

"Dad," I said simply.

Mom dropped her coffee cup. It smashed all over the table, but she didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were hard.

"I'd hardly call him that," she snorted. "He's just the sperm donor."

"Ew," I muttered.

"Holly, Holly, Holly..." mom droned my name out, standing up and walking over to me. "You don't need a father figure in your life. Haven't us girls always stuck together? You don't need Mr sperm donor to be here for you. You have me, and you always will have."