So, That's Your Dad? (Freddie Mercury) | Under Construction

Chapter Thirty Seven: Numero Uno On Nicole's Hitlist

I have been here for over a week. Is it getting better? Not necessarily. The only good to come out of this is that my roommate has warmed up to me. He started to be polite, just as I was to him. Even opened up. I told him why I was here, and he told me his reason. Apparently his mom found drugs in his room back when he lived in Milan, where he's from. And I'm only here because I wanted to get away from my dad. Who I would do anything for just to be by his side again.

There is a knock on the door and it opening seconds after. Joe. He thinks this is his room too. Where he can just barge in whenever he pleases. It bothers Ralph so much but he has an amount of respect for Joe not to say anything. "Good morning y'all!" He yelled and opened the curtains to reveal the beautiful Saturday morning. Even on Saturdays I have to be here. At least we don't have to do any work and that's a good thing. If I could just see my family for an hour, that would make my entire life. But no, Tiffany Bulsara's life just can't work that way. I can't always get what I want. "Good morning." I respond and sit up in bed.

"Hey Joe, how's it going?" Ralph asked him while standing up and stretching. "I'm good man thanks for asking." Joe replied. He had something in hand. Two items actually. Envelopes. They're both for him probably. He's the popular one between the two of us. To my surprise he hands the larger one to me. "You have mail Tiff." He tells me. I can see that. I figured that it would be from Rami because I wrote to him, but I'm wrong. The return address is the same one as Garden Lodge. I smile at the name that reads above it. Freddie fucking Mercury. My legend of a father. I rip open the envelope not to see paper, but a chunk of index cards instead. Is writing letters using index cards going to be the next big thing? Because already that does not sound remotely correct.

I skim through the first card carefully and see large messy handwriting on the blank side. Yes, this is my dad writing to me. There are ten of them total. I prepare myself to figure out his unreadable handwriting.

"April, 6th, 1989
My daughter,

      You dumb cunt! You sent the letter for Rami to my house! Don't be offended by the dumb cunt part darling, I'm just messing with you. Don't worry I forwarded it to his house. I looked at it, just to make sure that you didn't send him something that not even the cats need to see. I didn't read it because I'm trying something new called respecting your privacy. Even though you don't deserve it because it is a privilege when it comes to me.  Remember all of the times when I took your bedroom door down? Good times. If you're wondering why this is written on cards, it's because I'm in the middle of filming the video for Scandal and this is all I had. I'm trying to write this quickly because I only have a thirty minute break and I want you to read this as soon as possible. I want you to know that I have been doing fine and I feel a little bit better. I do not want you to worry about me while you are there. I want you to enjoy your experience as much as you can. I miss all three of my children (you, Joe and Ben) so much. This house is so much more quiet without the three of you bothering me and Jim. Tell Joe that I said hello and that I love him. I will say it again that I miss you so much and I cannot wait to see you. Soon will eventually be now and all I'm going to say is that the day when we will see each other is getting closer. I still wont give you the exact date because I want to surprise you. I will tell you that it is going to be before you graduate. Now in the meantime, I need to ask a favor from both you and Joe. You have seven weeks left and I have always wanted you to do something outside of academics. Before you say cheerleading is a sport, I will prove you wrong. Plus you have tried to get on the squad for three years and failed because you're scared to even do a cartwheel. I'm not trying to bring you down. I'm trying to prove a point darling. What I am saying is that you don't have a choice, you're playing a sport this year. It doesn't matter what it is: football, basketball, even fucking rugby for all I care. Just do something to distract yourself. I have to go now. I love you so much and I hope that you are alright. Once again, I love you.