Just Not Right Now

It’s 4:30 am on a Saturday morning in February and I’m freezing my balls off. I throw my face into my pillow and huff; thinking this will dissolve all my problems somehow. I get up, pull my boxers off of my groin, and shuffle to the bathroom. I turn on the too god-damn bright lights to see myself. Fucking hell, I shouldn’t have stayed up till 2 a.m. gaming. I jump in the shower hoping to remove the grease from my hair and the alcohol from my pores. Yes, for only 19, I have a decent codependency on booze, if you ask my mother, that came from my father. Fucking prick, what a hand of cards I’ve been dealt. Whatever. I hop out of the shower, put on my khakis and black t-shirt with “Jimmy John’s” sandwich logo on it. Yes, time to open up shop with high schoolers, sick. I pull on my baseball cap to complete the eye-gash that is my appearance and walk out the door a little too loudly. 

My Honda Pilot starts up just fine for being a dated early thousands car and I drive exactly half a mile to the shop I have been working at since I was sixteen. What growth. I turn the key, disarm the alarm, and begin to set up my day. This is the same as most days. Opening shift, preparing for catering orders from big companies, and on the weekdays  junior college in my afternoon and nights. Mom doesn’t believe in going to a 4-year college straight out of high school. Again, something to do with my estranged, selfish father. 

I’ve never met my father. I’ve only seen pictures of him and my mom at their high school prom. Both blonde, both full white smiles, both scared shitless for my arrival at the end of their senior year. You see, my mother has never called me a mistake; but if you ask me, your father doesn’t leave if he is actually ready to “be a father”. At 18, he sure as shit wasn’t. Hell, I am 19 and fuck me if I got someone pregnant. I have a lot of physical similarities to my father. Both 6 foot 3 inches in stature, almond shaped blue eyes, and perfectly straight white teeth. But the rest is my mom. The nicely sloped, slender nose she prides herself on, the dirty blonde hair, the ironic-sarcastic ‘woe is me’ vibe. All her. My intelligence, from both of them, at least that’s what my mom says. She is terrifying and intense in the best and worst ways possible. She has worked extremely hard, harder than anyone I’ve ever known to give me the life I live. It was always me and her. 

My world was filled with close to every activity imaginable. I played soccer, baseball, and basketball. She paid for guitar lessons and acting lessons. I was the damn high school president. Graduated with honors. I did well, really well. I got a job at sixteen to learn responsibility and save up for a new car. As soon as I graduated, and a lot of my friends left this hometown my activities lessened. I’ve lived life on a loop. Work, school, workout, drink, video games, sleep, repeat. 

Growing up, I’ve had times where I’ve asked about my dad. She’s been honest, not spiteful, but brutally honest of the guy she knew and continued to keep tabs on via social media. 

The list of things about my father that I know to be true. He was smart, like, early acceptance into Berkeley smart. He wanted to be an oncologist and didn’t become an oncologist. He became a biomedical engineer. He left to go to the other side of the country to play division 3 baseball. He told people my mom got an abortion and blocked her phone number 2 weeks before I was born.  He was extremely nerdy and liked playing board and video games. He wasn’t all that funny but was extremely supportive of my mom’s dreams (outside of having me). He used to drive a big white pick-up truck and for one whole month bought my mom Pizza Guys and Baskin Robbins daily. He never knew how to pick a fight or fight back for that matter. He didn’t drink until the night my mom told him she was pregnant. He then proceeded to not stop drinking. He saw my ultrasound but didn’t want to feel me kick inside my mom. That’s the list that makes up Jameson Mankato. 

Every morning during the opening shift I work in silence and think of what I want to do with my life. Honestly, I have no fucking clue. I want to make money, I want to go away to school, I want to do something, I’m not sure what. I want something to happen in my life, some big event that can change my trajectory. My reflective thoughts are cut short by the ever preppy 16 year old new hire.

“Hi Hudson” Marnie gleamed. 

“Hey” I replied, clearly not matching her enthusiasm. 

To be that perky, Jesus. Marnie connected her phone to the aux and some Maroon 5 pandora filled the store as the sun began to rise. The day went by quickly, the store had a steady stream of customers without getting too backed up. Luckily, my shift ended right before the lunch rush so I was able to get out of there before the real hell started. My shift manager, Rob, again another person who took this way too seriously, relieved me and I nearly ran out the door. Marnie asked something as I was on my way out,  I turned to respond  and nearly bodied  a customer. Shit. I bounced off of him, he was a solid dude, thankfully it wasn’t someone I could’ve seriously hurt. I turn back and grab the man’s shoulder that I hit and we were eye-to-eye. Fuck what a tall dude. I stare at him and the familiarity of him haunts me, but I can’t place him. 

“Shit, sorry, are you okay?” I ask hastily and am still puzzled by how I know him. 

“I’m fine, thanks for your concern” he replied a bit anxiously.

“Okay cool, well if we can get you a free sandwich to make up for it—” I offer loud enough so Marnie hears my request. 

“Really, really” he interjected.

“I’m fine, don’t think twice about me” He followed up. 

“Okay thank you for your understanding” I said and walked out of the store.

Fuck, who is that guy? Why is he familiar? Has he just been in a lot for sandwiches? Is he someone’s dad I know? Did my mom try and date him? Shit. Shit. I am walking briskly to my car, my hands are shaky and I am beginning to sweat even though it is fucking freezing in February and I piece it together. But no, there’s no way, he lives in Pennsylvania. He does not live here, his family no longer lives here. No, I am crazy, I am crazy for thinking that is my absent father of whom 19 long fucking years has passed by. No, Hudson, you are imagining things. This is bull shit, I’m going home. 

Just as I go to reverse my car, the man comes out of the sandwich shop, no food in hand, and yells “Hudson”. I look eyes through my windshield and I see him coming closer. How does he know my name? Who is this guy?  I continue to try and back my car out of the tight spot and he picks up his speed to a light jog. He meets me at my drivers side window.

“Hudson” he states breathlessly. 

“Who the fuck are you?” I yell through the glass. I’m panicked now, what the fuck. 

“Ah I see you got your mother’s gift of colorful language” he half laughs. 

“How do you know my mom?” still speaking through the glass of the window.

“I don’t know how to tell you this but see, I, uh--” He stumbles, dodging eye contact.

“Spit it out, creep” I demand. 

He took a few deep breaths, his eyes shifted from his feet to meet mine. 

“I’m your father” he states. 

No, no fucking way. My heart rate is climbing like a skyscraper. My mind is reeling with the insanity. My reality is splitting at his words. I am spinning, hyperventilating in my car. Holy shit, I shouldn’t be doing this hungover. Fucking hell. How did he find me? How did he know I would be here? Fuck, no fear Hudson. 

“Ok” I simply state, removed, hiding the fact that I am clearly shaken. No other words are coherently coming to my mind. Nothing is making sense. I take my foot off the gas and continue to pull out and drive off towards home. I don’t look back at him or the situation. I have to go, I need to tell my mom. How is he here? Why is he here? What the actual FUCK is happening? Shit, I got distracted with all my questions and slam on my breaks. Leave it to me to get caught at the only stop light between  work and home. I turn back to see if I can see the parking lot, see where he went. But no one is in sight. Then, a black Audi pulls out of the same lot and drives slowly behind me. I look in my rearview mirror and it’s fucking him. Is he really about to follow me? Is he? I put my hands 10 and 2 and slowly let my foot off the brake, anticipating the green light. It turns, and I floor the Honda Pilot. I ski across the intersection, increase my speed to nearly 50 miles per hour and turn a sharp right onto the next street. 2 turns left and I am home. I can shake him. He continues to follow me, obviously an Audi can accelerate much quicker than my Honda but hell I could at least try to escape. Shit. Shit. What do I do? God I have to tell my mom. How am I supposed to handle this, what am I supposed to say? I don’t want to do this right now? Do I want to do this at all?

I had put some thought into seeing my father, what I would do. Early on, I thought the great things I accomplished would get his attention to come see me, see how great I am. Little League World Series, honor roll, student body president. Nothing, nothing I did screamed across the country “you have a great fucking son, come meet him”. Then as I got older, I thought about meeting him out of pure curiosity; but it was to be on my terms. I’d travel to Pennsylvania, find his job and drop in on him. Maybe watch him, see if he had a new family, a wife, I don’t know. Observe this foreign entity before making direct contact. But now, I am the science project being studied. I don’t like being on the reaction side of this. I am not prepared, fuck this. I’m not seeing him or talking to him. He missed his fucking chance and took my chance to meet him, on my terms, away from me. Fuck. 

I pull up slowly to my house and park the car. I call my mom and throw it on speaker. 

“Hi honey” she pleasantly greeted. 

“Fucking dad is here” I scream at her.

“Wait what?”

“Yeah, I bumped into him at work, and he followed me out, called me by name and told me he is my father” I yell through the phone. I check my rear view and the Audi is parked behind me. 

“Mom he fucking followed me home!” I panicked, what if he is a crazy psycho? What if he hurts me or my mom. We don’t know who this person is! 

“Okay, do not get out of your car, give me a second” she states and the line goes dead. 

Breathe, breathe. 

My mom opens the front door and waves at me to get out and come to the front of the house. I quickly unbuckle my seat belt, rip my door open, slam it and sprint. I made it to my mom, who stepped aside for me to seek refuge in the house and she remained on the porch. I waited, she waited. This man slowly gets out of the car; hands playfully up like he’s being arrested and then quickly, nervously shoves them in his pockets. My mom goes rigid, her arms crossed, her eyes glaring. 

“Hi Sydney” he says plainly.

“Jameson” she responds tersely. 

My mom just confirmed it, his name is Jameson, he is 6 foot 3 with some blonde hair slightly turning white, small almond shaped eyes with a similar shade of blue to mine, and a beer gut. Guess mom was right about his extracurricular activities. By her response I can see he didn’t give her a heads up that he was dropping by. Prick. 

“ I wanted to see him”. 

“That’s great that you want to see your son, but it’s not really your choice” She responded coldly. 

“What do you mean? He’s my son?” He questioned with a hint of anger. 

“It is his choice, if he wants to talk to you, fine, if he doesn’t then tough shit Jameson” she explained with a warning tone. 

“Fine”

His eyes shifted past my mom, to me in the shadows.

“How about it bud, do you want to get to know me?”  He asked. 

Do I want to get to know him? What? I thought he was here to get to know me? Not the other way around. Does his inflated self think that I have just been dying at the chance to know him? Like, dude I thought you wanted to know me, I know him. I know of him at least, I don’t need to know who he is. I don’t know. Fuck. 

My mom looks back at me with an unreadable expression. I guess it’s now or never. I am backed into a corner to decide. Damn, I really hate being backed into a corner. My head and my heart are conflicted at this point. It’s not on my terms, it’s something I want to do but not right now. Will I miss my chance? How much do I care if I miss my chance? Hudson, pull it together and go with your gut. 

“Not today” I said sternly. I turned on my heel, walked down the hall, turned to the bathroom, threw up last night's fun and laid in bed. I am not going to make a decision that is going to blow up my life when they aren’t on my terms. Fuck that. Maybe I will feel ready tomorrow. I’ll let my mom know my thoughts and to let him know. If he’s not ready when I’m ready, well too bad, I’m the kid. 

I hear their muted conversation through the front window of my room. It seems as if they are getting one anothers new contact information. Well at least he wants to keep some point of contact. When I’m ready, I’ll open that can of worms. But right now, is not the time. Call me cowardly, call me crazy, but I don’t want to meet a man I am so similarly reflected in. I don’t want to give him depth. I don’t want to see the man behind the wrap sheet of my ‘father’. Not right now, just not right now.