I Fall Apart

Nora

Dad seemed to be easing off the constant supervision of me in Chicago, which was a huge relief.  I was beginning to feel smothered.  Dad and I had talked a bit about Mom and how I was feeling.  I had to admit, he was pretty easy to talk to.  He didn't judge me and he listened.  I bet a lot of kids would like to have that.

On day two of auditions, I again parked myself a little ways back in the theatre while person after person auditioned.  Not many kids would ever get this opportunity.  I got to listen to some of the finest singers and rappers in the world spit out dad's lyrics.

The work I had was pretty easy.  I knew I was smart, which is why I was able to coast most of the time with minimal effort.  I guess I had Dad to thank for that.  He was a certified genius.  When they took a break around 10, Dad came to check up on me.

"Whatcha working on?" He asked me.

"Quadratic equations," I told him.  "Otherwise known as torture."

"Yikes," he told me.  "Do you want to join us for lunch again today?"

"Yeah," I said.  More of the cast had shown up today.  I thought it would be fun to meet some of them and hang out.  When we went to lunch a couple hours later, I ended up sitting next to Jonathan Kirkland, who played George Washington.  He was tall.  Really tall.  And super cool.  I don't know what it was, but we instantly hit it off.  He was telling me funny stories about things that had happened at cast parties.  I guessed he was in his mid-20's.

"So, forgive me if I get this wrong," he began, "but is it true you didn't know your dad until you were 13?"

"That's right," I told him, pouring some sugar into my iced tea.

"Why's that?"

"I guess he and my mom had a brief fling, and my mom was, like, super independent and decided she didn't want him to be involved," I explained.

"So how did you end up meeting your dad?"

"My mom got arrested a couple years ago, and the social workers found my birth certificate.  His name was on it, so I went to live with him and Vanessa."

"Wow," he said, amazed at my story.  "So how was that?"

"It was rough at first," I admitted.  "I guess we disagreed a lot at the beginning, but we get along better now."

He nodded and took a sip from his Coke.  "I heard about your mom," he said.  "Sorry to hear about that."

"Thanks," I said politely, as I did every time someone said that.  I was so sick of hearing that.

"I'm sure you're probably sick of hearing that," he said, reading my mind.  "My dad passed away when I was a kid.  It's rough."

"He did?" I asked curiously.  No one else I knew had lost a parent.

"Yep," he said.  "Car accident when I was ten.  I had four younger siblings, so I had to step up a bit."

"Wow," I said.  "That must've been hard."

I was pretty lucky in that I had a two-parent household and I was never asked to be responsible for my younger siblings.  I can't imagine being ten and having to take care of little brothers and sisters.

"Yeah, it was," he said.  "But it made me stronger.  I'd do anything to help out my mom."

"How'd you make it through school?"

He laughed.  "If you knew my mom, you wouldn't be surprised," he told me.  "She had very high expectations.  Ran a tight ship.  All five of us kids are college grads."