Wondering who my father is?
A really short fiction story inspired by a thought
As a kid, I had always asked my mum, “Why don't I have a dad like Jake, Jordan and Elias?” Mum would say “Of course you have a dad it is just we aren’t in contact.”
I would then say, “So why don't we get in contact with him?”
Mum would reply, “Because we lost contact.”
The older I got the more I questioned her until I realised my dad possibly didn't know I existed.
In my mid-twenties, she told me she had been seeing two guys when she fell pregnant. I could tell that the shame she felt had stopped her from talking about this. She didn't know which one was my father and the shame of it had paralysed her all these years.
I was angry with her but I didn't show it. She had been a terrific mum it had been just me and her. She had me when she was 19, that was 34 years ago. How do you make sense of this? In time I asked her to give me their names. She gave one that most people assumed was my father but he had questioned it due to not seeing any resemblance between him and me. She was embarrassed as she couldn't remember the name of the other other than his first name and the town where he originated.
Was I to go checking every Colin that came from that town? The impossibility of the task put me off but my mind has never stopped wondering.