21 Jump Street (Tom Hanson)

Blue Christmas

It was just a few days until Christmas, and I found myself on the porch steps of my fathers house. Tracking him down was difficult, especially since he does not live in Metro. There was a beautiful porch with a swing on a nice light blue suburban home. I saw a couple of bikes by their garage, which told me that kids live here too. Did I have step-siblings or even half-siblings?

I was surprised as soon as I pulled into the neighborhood. This was a nice house in a nice neighborhood. I had not heard from my dad in years, and I had always assumed that he died, most likely in a ditch. Last I saw of him, he was a nonfunctioning addict. But, this was the exact opposite. He looked like he really turned his life around. Maybe I found the wrong Ace Gregg?

Snow covered the ground, and I had my favorite black scarf around my neck that I got last year for my birthday from Tom. The air was crisp and chilly. My hands were stuck in Tom's brown leather jacket I took since he left it at my place, which I had layered over a cream cableknit sweater. I pulled my hand out of the warmth of the pocket to ring the doorbell.

I heard a dog bark from inside the house, and pretty soon a middle-aged man answered the door. Seeing his blue eyes with a sparkle in them gave me a warm feeling. He looked exactly the way I remembered him looking, except cleaner and with some salt and pepper in his hair and a few more wrinkles.

He cleared his throat and asked, "may I help you?"

I was almost at a loss for words. Everything I planned to say had slipped out of my mind. I put my hand back in my pocket and cleared my throat before stuttering, "yeah... um... wow, uh—"

Suddenly, realization waved across his face and he asked, "Michelle?"

I gulped and nodded with a small smile. I felt my dark hair that I anxiously curled earlier rub against my jacket. He recognized me! He remembered me! I had never been more elated to see my dad in my life. I smiled, "hi, dad."

His eyes narrowed some and he asked coldly, "what are you doing here?"

My smile dropped and I was a little confused. I would have guessed that my dad would be excited to see me, since it has been over ten years since we last spoke. I answered, "I-I wanted to see you, and I wanted to see how you were doing. This is a really nice house."

I found out where he lived not that long ago, but it's taken everything in me to drive here and walk up to his front door. I wanted to forgive him and be the bigger person, and maybe be able to get to know him this holiday season and reconcile. I could have a family again.

"I have a nice house. And a nice wife, and nice kids. I don't need or want anything from my old life coming back to ruin it," Dad replied firmly. "I don't know what you're after—"

"I'm not after anything."

"But you can't be here. I think you should go."

"Dad?" My voice nearly broke.

"Don't Dad me," he snapped, "just leave, all right? Before anyone sees you. I have spent years getting rid of my old life. I'm sorry, but I really don't want anything to do with you."

"It's almost Christmas," I said and I could feel tears well in my eyes. This was not what I was expecting at all. It did not even cross my mind that this could end badly. Who would throw away their own flesh and blood? I felt like I was just garbage to him.

"So I should be spending time with my family," he started to close the door.

"But, I'm your family," I said with a break in my voice. He loved me... right?

My father paused and I heard him sigh. Then he said in a low voice, "I have priorities, Michelle. I don't have time for you."

"Do you know how many years I've spent Christmas alone?" I nearly shouted. I paused as he opened the door again to look at me. His face was almost expressionless, but I wanted to make him feel my pain. "Or how many Easters or how many Thanksgivings? How many birthdays? I used to have dreams where you would come to get me. You would apologize to me for your fucking act and that you wanted to be apart of my life again. And I would have taken you back in a heartbeat. A heartbeat. I deserved a dad who would take me to my soccer games, and bring orange slices. I deserved a dad to teach me how to change my tire. You have other kids now, right? It looks like you changed for them, so why didn't you change for me? Was I not worth it?"