I guess I’ll start by saying that I don’t know if I’ll be writing everyday, but I think I would like to when something about my father is brought up to me. Today my lovely mama and I were talking about her boyfriend and how they should take the next step and let him move in with us. Us being my brother, my mama and I. Big step, yes I know. But I think when you are pressed for time, like we are on this earth, I feel like no one should hesitate to be happy. So after a bit back and forward of “come on!” and “but what do you think everyone will think?”, my mom said she would talk to her boyfriend about it tonight. Yay!
But of course, there can’t be a day where the dreaded elephant doesn’t walk into the room.
My mom asked me if she could ask me something without getting upset. I said of course, thinking we were still on the subject of her man and him moving in with us.
She asked, “When your birthday comes along and people call to tell you happy birthday… are you going to be ok if your grandparents call you?”
My grandparents, the parents of my father that is. Something I haven’t shared is that when I was taken to the hospital and admitted as a sexual assault case, the police got involved. My father knowing very well that I had escaped, knew that his time as a free man was probably coming to an end. So the bastard left the country and went back to Mexico. My grandparents also happen to live in Mexico and were awaiting his arrival not knowing why the need to suddenly cross the border.
I then made the decision to contact a family member in Mexico and confess everything my father and done to me and showed her proof of police and hospital reports. With no possible way of faking such information, of course she believed me and began to cry over everything she just learned. I asked her to please be aware of her daughters, all the young girls in the family, and to keep them away from my father. I never learned if she told my father’s parents but there can be no mistake in her obvious distress and resentment for what he had done to me.
I can only assume that my grandparents know, but if they don’t, that’s something I would prefer not to talk about. To answer my mother’s question, I told her that I would love a call from my grandparents. I would love to hear their voices, because I know I might never ever see them again. And that alone, well, it brings me unimaginable sadness. They have never wronged me, not even in raising my father. So I will wait, because I can’t bring myself to call first. Not yet at least.