What It Is (11 page)

“I had been looking for you for so long! Where do you live, what do you look like, when can I see you?” My eyes couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and they started to roll down my face. Arthur sounded so genuinely happy to hear my voice, and hearing him say that he had been looking for me for a long time made me immediately wonder why he had lost contact in the first place.

What did Mom do to him?
I asked myself.
Maybe I shouldn’t have hated him my entire life.

I couldn’t contain myself; I had to meet Arthur face-to-face. I wanted to meet the man whose name I took beatings for my entire childhood. I wanted to see if we had the same eyes, the same smile, or the same big feet. I wanted him to look at me and feel terrible for waiting as long as he had to meet me.

“I need to see you,” I said to Arthur. “I need to see you soon; it’s been too long.”

“I agree!” he replied in his thick Spanish accent. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Whoa! I was thinking like next week or next month or something. I need time to prepare for this.
I put my hand over the phone’s mouthpiece and whispered to Aron, “He wants to meet tomorrow.”

Aron’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and after a brief moment, he nodded. “Do it!” he said out loud.

“We can meet tomorrow,” I said to Arthur.

“We?” he asked. “Are you married?”

“No, I’m not married but my boyfriend, Aron, will be with me. Where do you want to do this? Where do you live now?” I asked.

“Chicago, where I’ve always lived of course. My wife and I can drive to see you, save you the gas,” Arthur said. “Chicago?” I asked.

He was only a couple of hours away from me my entire life?
I shook my head; now was not the time to rehash the past, I could do that face-to-face the next day. “Then you’re fairly close to me.” I gave Arthur the address to the apartment and he assured me he would be at my door by noon the very next day.

“See you tomorrow,” Arthur said, and he hung up.

I felt sadness in my heart. I was hoping to hear, “I love you,” but maybe he wasn’t ready to say that to me yet.

I hung up the phone and Aron turned me to him. “So?” he said. “Tell me everything; what did he sound like?”

I looked up at him. “He’s Spanish or Mexican or something,” I said as I shook my head back in forth in confusion.

Aron stepped back. “Really?” he asked. “Because you are definitely neither of those.”

“I’m pretty sure he had an accent, Aron, but maybe I was wrong. I don’t know, I guess we’ll see tomorrow, right?”

I didn’t know why Arthur wanted to see me so quickly or even why he wanted to see me at all after all of this time. Aron and I hashed out every possible scenario all evening long, and the only logical conclusion that we could come up was that something must be wrong with him medically and he needed to settle some things before he died. It saddened me to think that there was a possibility I could finally have a relationship with my biological father just to find out that he was going to die in three or six months. I had to come to the realization that it is what it is; if he was coming to see me to clear his conscience before he died, that was fine. At least I would get the chance to meet him and get questions of my own answered. I could choose to sit and refuse to see him because of my bitterness over my past or I could choose to act like an adult woman and put the past aside in order to achieve inner peace. The only thing Aron and I couldn’t explain was the Spanish accent I’d heard on the phone. Mom had never said a word about Arthur being Spanish, and knowing how quickly she liked to throw around insults, we were sure that a few Mexican slurs would have been hurled my way during my childhood.

Morning came quickly, and before I knew it Aron and I were standing on our balcony waiting for Arthur to pull up. I had taken extra care to make myself look perfect that day; I had chosen to wear one of my work outfits in an attempt to impress Arthur and make him proud of me immediately. I also thought it was important to dress powerfully to convey to him that I wasn’t a child anymore and that I could handle whatever he had to tell me.

“What is he driving?” Aron asked me as he checked his watch. I looked over at him and squeezed his arm.

“For the third time, sweetheart, a tan Lincoln Continental. You’re more nervous than I am.”

Aron smiled at me. “Not nervous, just anxious. I don’t know, I can’t describe it.” He stopped and pointed out across the parking lot. “I think that’s him now!”

I looked out and saw a tan Lincoln slowly weaving its way through the parking lot. My heart started beating faster as I began to see the outline of a man in the front seat, and I waved and yelled from the balcony, “Up here!” I grabbed Aron’s hand and ran down the stairs. I couldn’t wait to lay my eyes upon him for the first time. Mom had compared me to him my entire life: my Bug Eyes were like Arthur’s, my Nigger Lips were his, and my big stupid feet were the spitting images of my father’s feet. Aron and I stopped on the sidewalk and continued to hold hands as Arthur parked the car and opened his door.

To say that Arthur was not what I expected would be putting it mildly. I am a tall woman with broad shoulders, long brown hair, big round eyes, and a wide mouth. Mom was a short woman with dyed red hair, thin lips, and small green slits for eyes. When I was a child I had assumed that I must look so much like Arthur it drove Mom insane. Whatever happened between her and Arthur was extremely bad and my face was a daily reminder of a horrible time in her life.

Instead of looking at an older, male version of me, Aron and I stood there looking at a small, dark-haired, dark-eyed Spanish man.
I knew I heard a Spanish accent!
I looked up at Aron with a giant question mark on my face. Aron’s head was cocked to one side and he was looking at Arthur with mistrust in his eyes. Arthur walked over to me, looked up, and smiled.
His lips are thin
, I thought as I looked down on this man claiming to be my father. Suddenly I wished that Sam were there standing there with me.

“Sarah?” It was the same heavy accent I had heard last night. Aron let go of my hand and stood back a bit.

“Hi, Dad.” The words sounded so wrong coming out of my mouth that I quickly corrected myself. “I mean, Arthur.” Arthur smiled.
He has a small mouth and bad teeth
, I thought as Arthur raised himself up on his toes and kissed my cheek.
He can’t even reach my cheek.

“You are as beautiful as I knew you would be! Marta, get out and look at this girl!” In less than five seconds Arthur had assumed the role of proud father, something that made me immediately uncomfortable. I reached back for Aron’s hand. Aron grasped my hand and squeezed it tightly; I turned around and he mouthed the words, “Something isn’t right” to me, shook his head, and squeezed my hand tighter. I nodded in agreement and turned back to Arthur.

Something wasn’t right, and it was immediately apparent to me. I don’t know this for sure, but I imagine a person would know instinctively if someone was their parent. I imagine that I would have seen Arthur and known immediately, “Yep, that’s my dad. Look, he looks just like me.” There was no feeling like this when I looked at Arthur. I felt as if I was staring at a stranger and I had no idea how this man’s name ended up on
my
birth certificate.
Maybe this is what he is here to tell me. Maybe this guy isn’t my real dad.
I wanted to ask him to leave and never come back, but I had to get to the bottom of this mystery.

If Arthur had any of the same misgivings I did, he certainly didn’t show it. His small Spanish wife got out of the car and walked up to me with her arms out. “Hello, beautiful! Arthur has been looking for you for so long.”

I leaned over and hugged her and glanced up at Arthur. He was standing there with his chest puffed out beaming from ear to ear.
Maybe I’m wrong here. He seems to think I’m his daughter; maybe I’m just being paranoid.
I stood up and looked at Arthur and Marta. “Have you met Aron?” I asked and gestured for Aron to come stand next to me.

“Ah! You are the lucky man,” Arthur exclaimed and reached around to give Aron a big pat on the back.

“Luckier than you know,” Aron responded before saying, “Let’s go upstairs. Sarah and I got some sandwiches and drinks so we can talk for a while.”

The situation in the apartment was extremely awkward. Once we all sat down in the living room with our sandwiches, Arthur and Marta started talking about their lives in Chicago, their kids and the family car business, acting as if there were no giant elephant in the room waiting to be talked about. They went on and on about themselves for at least fifteen minutes before Aron got tired of being polite.

“And if you’re interested,” he interrupted, “Sarah is doing absolutely fine after the hell she lived through as a child.”

You could have heard a pin drop as Arthur and Marta immediately went silent. Out of the blue, Arthur exclaimed, “I swear it wasn’t me who threw you down the stairs, it was her!”

What?
I screamed in my mind. “What are you talking about?” I asked him urgently, hoping that I had heard him incorrectly because of his accent. “Threw me down what stairs?”

“When you were just a couple of months old, Nancy was on the phone, you were crying…I couldn’t get to you in time.” He buried his head in his hands. “You were too young probably to remember your collarbone being shattered that day.”

Aron threw his hand over his mouth and started tapping his leg as I sat in stunned silence.

I wanted to make sure that I had heard him correctly. “Mom threw me down the stairs when I was a baby because I was crying?” I repeated slowly. My mind was struggling to grasp the information I had just received. I didn’t know whether I should be angry or sad or whether or not knowing that Mom shattered my collarbone as a baby even made a difference if I couldn’t remember it.

Arthur picked his hand up out of his hands and nodded. “She told the hospital that you fell down the stairs on your rocking horse.” He looked at me with urgency in his eyes. “I thought you knew and that Nancy told you that I did it.” He hung his head, “I just didn’t want you to hate me anymore.”

I felt like Arthur was waiting for me to get up and hold him and tell him that I forgave him for walking out on me, but I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. I became furious, and before Aron could stop me, I jumped off of the couch and started yelling and flailing my arms. “Hate you? You left me there, Arthur! I thought I had it bad before, but now I find out that she was hurting me when I was a newborn?”

“Sarah,” I heard Aron say, but I didn’t care. I had waited all of my life to say what was on my mind to this man, and I wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip away. I continued to yell into Arthur’s stunned face. “She beat me so many times because of you! Do you know what she did to me? Do you have any idea what kind of beast you left me with?” I paused, expecting Aron to make me sit down and stop yelling, but he didn’t say a word so I continued. “Where were you all of those years, Arthur? You claim you were looking for me and I was two hours down the road from you all that time!” I held out my arms to show him the scars I had from Mom’s fingernails. “Do you see these scars? She did this to me, and you did nothing!”

Marta stood up. “Arthur, I think it is time to go. I’m very uncomfortable.”

Aron got up off of the couch and stood next to me. “I have to agree with your wife, Arthur. I’m sorry you made the long drive, but I think that this visit is over.”

Arthur stood up slowly from the chair picked his keys and wallet off of the coffee table. I looked at him and sneered my lip. “And we don’t even look alike, so all of those beatings I took because Mom said I looked like you were for nothing!” Arthur shook his head and walked toward the door as I stood there with my arms still outstretched, trying to make Arthur see visual proof of what I had endured as a child.

Marta quietly mumbled, “Nice to meet you,” under her breath and scooted out the apartment door.

Arthur began to follow her, but before he shut the door behind him he turned around and said, “I am so sorry for what she did to you, Sarah. She hurt me too.”

He shut the door behind him and I put my arms down and turned around to Aron with my eyes blazing. “I’m going to find out that bitch’s phone number and call her right now!”

“Calm down, Sarah, please try to relax and think straight,” Aron pleaded with me but it was to no avail. “That man is not my father, Aron! And that bitch threw me down the stairs when I was a baby! Did you hear me, Aron? A baby! Imagine someone doing that to Ryan!”

Aron sat back down on the couch and nodded. “Sarah, I’m not disagreeing with you. There is no way that guy is your father; you look
nothing
like him, and I was really trying to find one thing I could find similar to you and I couldn’t.”

I sat across from him in the chair Arthur had been in as he continued. “Sarah, I don’t even know what to say. I mean, what do you say in a situation like this? I’m so very sorry that this has happened to you.” His eyes started to well up with tears and he got down onto his knees in front of me and buried his head in my legs. “I can’t believe she threw you down the stairs. You were just a baby,” he sobbed. “If I could just get my hands on her one time…”

I was unmoved by Aron’s tears. “I’m not going to sit here and feel sorry for myself because of something that happened to me when I was a baby. I want to know who my father is and why she lied to me all of these years. If you won’t let me call Mom, then I’m calling Richard.”

Aron picked his head up out of my lap and wiped his eyes. “Fine, but what are you going to call Richard for?”

“Because,” I replied, “Richard must know something for Christ’s sake. He was with Mom for years and he knows how to get ahold of her now.”

Aron stood up and threw his hands up into the air. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, but if this is what you need, then go for it.”

Oh, I needed this; I needed to get word to Mom somehow that I knew about a part of my life that she’d tried to keep hidden. I knew she was terrible to me from the time I came out of the womb and that she had lied to me all of those years about who my father was. I knew in my heart from the moment I laid eyes upon him that Arthur was not my real father, and it infuriated me to know that there could be a man out there who may not even know that he had a child.