The Father Project

The Beginning

"Your father didn't care. He left us Riley, he's not coming back, it's just us now." 

         My mother said that to me two years after my father left. Laying in my bed, remembering this, I find it ironic that she too would leave me only three years after speaking those words. My mother died when I was only 11 years old, my father left us when I was 6. My mother had lied, but I didn't blame her. I couldn't, that wasn't fair, she was sick. I blamed my father. My mother always did. She blamed every little inconvenience on my father, and I do to. My father is the reason I am where I am. The reason I have no family, no today, and no future. He is the reason I'm stuck with Tomas Michael, my adoptive "father", if I can even call him that. My sad excuse for a father, wherever he is, is to blame for the abuse, but I'm getting ahead of myself. If you want to understand my story, I'll have to start from the very beginning. This is the story of my horrible, horrible life.

           My parents met at Uni in south Florida near Orlando. They clicked together instantly and dated for the next four years. After college, they found a small starter home and began a life together. Five years later, they would marry. My father worked in the MIT department for the Florida government and my mother owned her own store, three blocks from our house. She was a palm reader, and sight seer at Candace Candescent. That was the one thing I loved the most about my mother, her futuristic abilities, premonition, and intuition. She was always coming up with some crazy occurence that she predicted to happen sometime in the near future, and it would always somehow come true. She had amazed me since I was a small child. My mother was my rock, my supporter in everything I did. She used to tell me, I would forever succeed because she had seen it, written amongst the stars. I know that sounds cheesy but she made it seem special at the time. My father was not so involved with the spiritual world. He had been raised by strict parents, who pressured him with getting a good job and finding stability. His entire life had been planned out to a T and his job provided no time for premonitions and reading crystal balls. Nevertheless, I remember him as being gentle and kind, at least before he became a back-stabbing trader, that is. I try not to think about him much because it generates my hatred of him for leaving me, and for ultimately leading me into the rabbit hole of death. Most of the things I could remember about him, had been pushed as far back into my brain as possible. My father, Jack Morgan, was not welcome in my life, or anywhere near it. He lost that privelage the day he walked out the kitchen door. He never did come back. He never even said goodbye.

         From my perspective, my parents had always been in a happy relationship. It would come to my attention years after my father's abandonment that that fact couldn't have been more wrong. My parents fought constantly, but they always made sure that I was always out of the room and away from the fight, my mother didn't think it was good for me it. Even after my father left, my mother was hesitant to share the reality of their arguments, she only ever gave me vague details into their relationship. The only time, I ever witnessed them fight, was the night Jack walked out of my life. I was six, my mother had just sent me upstairs to bed and both my parents had said there goodnights before closing the door and descending the stairs. I was woken up to screaming at 2a.m. I remember because the image of my small, digital Dora clock showing the time in little red letters as my mother screamed words I'd never even heard at some unknown person, perceivably my father. I was scared, I remember that, but my curiousity got the better of me and I snuck downstairs to see what was happening. From my vantage point I could see them, but they couldn't see me. My mother's back was to me and I became aware that it was my father she was yelling at. My father, the man who smiling constantly, was looking gloomy and unhappy, and there was a certain rage resting in his eyes. My mother was on the other end of the rage scale. She looked to be on the verge of pulling her own hair out as she rested her hands on top of her head and took a few deep breaths. I saw, however, as her hand inched towards the flower vase sitting on the nearby coffee table though. I remember the shock, surly these weren't my parents. They would never fight, ever! But there they were, in a cold battle, each refusing to back down. My new "father" tells me it was my fault. He's right. Years later, when I was old enough to understand, I came to the conclusion that it was due to my parents choosing to only fight when I wasn't present, that the split occurred. Years of bottling up their pain and anger in the moment, going to bed angry, and maybe, maybe, if they ever got the chance, talking it out, had built up six years worth of tension. This tension exploded that night, it had become too much for either of my parents to hold it in anymore, they both just snapped. The argument was over me, my future. If I hadn't been around, they wouldn't of had to hide. It's my fault my dad left, he says it's my fault my mother died, everything is my fault.

          My father had found a better opportunity for us in Richmond, Virginia; 810 miles from my home in Florida. His job was relocating him, it offered a big pay raise, he wanted to move immedialty. My mother, not so much. That night after I had gone to bed, the argument had started out as a simple discussion. My mother didn't want to move me a such a young age, and she didn't want to abandon her shop. My father saw this as his opportunity to take his career to the next level and to provide for the family more.

"We can't move Jack. Riley is too young. And what about my shop, we spent such good, well-earned money on it, refurbishing it, we can't just give it away. Remember all those days spent, long into the night, creating such a magical space together? It was one of the reasons we fell in love." My mother had said, her voice sounding tender on the outside; if you listened closely, you would hear the underlying anger she was trying to hide.

"Candace, we barely have enough money to put Riley through school next month, let alone pay the bills. When is an opportunity like this going to come around again? We should take it, forget about the shop, and Riley will do fine wherever she is. She'll make new friends in Virginia and you could even go back to school if you wanted to, we'd have the money for that."

"Money doesn't create happiness Jack. Our daughter will thrive here. I've seen it. We cannot leave Florida, I don't care if we have to live on the streets for a while, I've seen what the future holds for us, and it's amazing but we can't leave."

This is where the yelling starts.

"Oh for shit's sake Candace! Forget about your stupid premonitions and fortunes, our child can thrive wherever she is and I think leaving is what's best for her, and I will take her with me next month whether you come or not!"

"I am not leaving this city, and neither is my daughter, so get that stuck up there in your ass-hat of a brain! She stays!"

"Candace! Give it up, you know somewhere down there in your batty head that this is what this family needs! The sooner you accept that, the better it will be!"

"Get out!" My mother had screamed at that point;she had reached her breaking point. At that point the vase had gone flying at my father's head and when he had looked back up at her, he was hurt and bleeding from a small gash in his forhead. He seemed to realize what he had said to her in that moment and an almost tenderness returned to his face.

"Look Candace, I know you don't want to leave, and I know you want Riley to grow up in your hometown, but this is what's best for us. Please try to find it in yourself to see my reason, I don't want to leave but I can't stay in this town anymore. I have to leave, whether you and Riley come, or not. It's for the best."

"I can't have this attitude around Riley, she can't have this in her life. I think it best that you go Jack, Riley stays, I stay. I can't give up my life her, not for you and not for Riley. I've worked too hard to get where I am, and I know that may or may not register in your tiny brain cells, but this is where we need to be." My mother was staring at my father incredulously. I, at that point, ran back up the stairs, unable listen anymore. My mother told me later, what had happened after I left, when I finally told her I had seen the majority of the fight. My father had collected a few of his things, asked my mother to mail him the rest, and then proceeded to the door.

"He left without an ounce of regret." she told me. "He never looked back once."

__________________________________________________________________________________Hey guys! So that's chapter 1 of "The Father Project"

I hope you enjoyed it! And I promise, the story will get more interesting but I have to go through Riley's backstory before I can get to present day, with her foster father vs real father, so bare with me! It will get much better!

Also - if there are any points in the story that it seems like the narrative is mentioning things that are happening in present day(despite the fact that the current chapters are about the past)that is because Riley is telling the story from her present day, so whenever that happens it is her hinting or drawing at something that has happened recently - not in the past
(I feel like that whole thing makes no sense but I don't know how to explain it:))

Anyway, I will update  this as often as I can, probably on Wednesdays, and Saturdays - if I am unable to do so, I will let you know

Ok I think thats all I have to say besides Thank you for reading - please vote and enjoy the rest of the story!!!<3
Megan