I guess I should have seen it coming. Things were going too great for my life to just keep going on that way, but maybe things happen for a reason.
My son has always meant the world to me, always doing what he was told and when he said “I love you”, you knew he really meant it.
He always did his best in school, so good, in fact, that he was always the smartest kid in his class. I remember one day after I picked him up from school in grade 2 he was silent the whole way home, and then when we got home he started crying and saying “I’m sorry, mommy.” I couldn’t figure out what was wrong at first, but eventually I coxed it out of him. It turns out he had gotten two words wrong on his spelling test and was scared to come home and show me because he didn’t want me to be disappointed in him.
“Jordan,” I told him that day, “you know you could NEVER disappoint me, I love you more than anything.”
I think he really took that to heart, because the next time he had a spelling test he’d asked me to help him “study” for it, just like the big kids did. He came home the day of the test with every single word right and I swear I almost cried.
Jordan was probably one of the sweetest kids I’d ever known, and every single thing he did made me proud. All the parents picking up their kids at the elementary school would say, “That Jordan is a great kid. You should be proud of him.” And I was. For his age, he was surprisingly smart and would prefer reading a picture book to watching TV any day of the week.
He cheered me up when I would cry, clean up after himself, and never complain about all of the vegetables I would feed him. Every night we had the same routine. After his bath, Jordan would always go straight to bed and I would kiss him goodnight then settle in the living room to watch TV or read a magazine before I went to bed. Ten minutes later I could always count on Jordan scampering down the hall and coaxing me to read him a bedtime story or sing him a lullaby. I never minded, though, because after he would always say he loved me.
We lived in a small apartment because, truth be told, I couldn’t afford anything bigger. I had a job, but it wasn’t a big fancy one at all. I worked part-time at the small coffee shop on the corner of our street. Plus, I had to balance that with taking classes at the college, in hopes of someday getting a better job so I could provide Jordan with a better life.
See, I was only a young mother, having Jordan at the age of only nineteen, just barely out of high school. It was hard for me at first, but after settling into a comfy part of L.A. life started to get easier. However, as in any life that seems good, something happens that changes it drastically.
It was just a normal day when I picked Jordan up from school. He was in third grade and had just made a new friend days earlier. I was so proud when he’d told me that I went out to get chocolate chip cookie mix, Jordan’s favourite kind, and we baked them together, laughing the whole time.
Anyway, after we got out of the car and made it up t the apartment, we both went on to the same after-school, routine, Jordan doing his third-grade homework, me doing my college homework. Things were going as they usually did, when Jordan popped a different sort of question, a question I knew I had to face someday or another.
“Mommy?”
“Yeah, baby?” At first I was scared that he had been hurt, his voice had a sad tone to it.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, darling, what is it?” I was totally unprepared for what came next.
“The kids at school always talk about having a daddy, and I tell them I only got a mommy. How come I don’t have a daddy?”
I always tried to avoid the topic, but because I loved my little Jordan so much I had to tell him the truth.
“Jordan, honey, why don’t we go cuddle up on the couch? I need to tell you a story.”
So I settled onto the couch and Jordan snuggled up to my side, just as he loved to do when he was feeling down.
“You do have a daddy, but you’ve never met him.” It broke my heart to have to tell him this, about the one thing I’d never given him that he so obviously needed. But I wasn’t lying when I said he had a daddy, I’d actually been married when he was conceived, and technically, I was still married after that as I never really got any divorce, which was actually weird if you thought about it.
It was a long story, a story I didn’t think my son was old enough to be told just yet. In high school I met this boy in my homeroom. He would always smile at me from across the room and find ways to came and talk to me after the bell rang. One day, he asked me out and we dated for most of high school. He was a bit older, but only by a year, and he dropped out in twelfth grade, telling me he couldn’t handle the pressure. We still dated and one night, after a movie, he walked me up to my doorstep, kissed me, and asked me to marry him. Of course I said yes, and just days after I graduated we had a small wedding. My parents didn’t care, they just seemed happy to have me out of the house.
Things were going great, we lived in an old apartment, smaller than the one I lived in with Jordan, but we loved each other and were convinced that that was all that mattered. One day, he met this guy who quickly became his best friend. They loved making music together, and so they looked around a bit, found two other people, and started a band. They were really good and I would delight in sitting and watching them practice, sometimes even singing along.
After a few months they ended up getting signed and we all couldn’t have been happier. The band only went on month-long tours, so I stayed home most of the time and I didn’t mind that I was away from my love so long because I knew he was always thinking of me. Then one simple article in a magazine ruined everything, though I never really read the article, the picture said enough. Taking up a quarter of the page, there was the man I thought I loved, kissing another girl. I was heartbroken and moved out while they were still on that tour, and that’s when I figured out that I was pregnant with Jordan, but because I never talked to my husband after that, he never really figured out that he had fathered a child. I never felt the need to tell him. I remember him trying to get in touch with me so many times, we even lived the same city still, but after a while he just stopped trying. I told myself it was for the best while I cried myself to sleep every night.
So now here my ten-year-old son was, asking about the father that didn’t know he existed. Perfect. There was no way I was telling Jordan that his dad didn’t know about him. I couldn’t hurt him that way. Honestly, I was shocked he’d never asked me before.
“Jordan,” I whispered to him, my son, my everything, “please don’t hate me when I tell you this because I love you more than you know, but you’re daddy hasn’t been around in a while, and I don’t think he’s going to be around any time soon.”
I was scared that these words would hurt him, but they didn’t. In fact they had the opposite effect.
“It’s okay mommy,” he murmured from my side, “I love you and I don’t care if I never see my daddy, because I have you.” I couldn’t hold back the tears, what he told me was so touching that I just let myself go. That night after I put my son to bed and sang him a song, I made a very unexpected call to a very unsuspecting Trace Cyrus, one of the lead members of the band Metro Station.
It was after nine when I called, so I was almost surprised when he picked up on the first ring.
“Hello?”
He didn’t know it was me and I was tempted not to answer. “Trace?” I asked, afraid.
“Oh my god, Rae, is that you?” My real name was Rachel. I hated it and always tried to forget. I was glad he used my nickname.
“Yeah, it’s me”
“Do you know how long it’s been? How much I miss you? How many things I want to tell you right now? Oh god, thanks so much for calling I haven’t hared from you in so long...”
“Can we meet up? I really want to talk to you.”
“Sure Rain, where at?” I almost gasped at the use of my special nickname. He always called me that because I was always talking about how much I loved the rain and how plain my actual nickname was. He made up the new one just for me.
“How about tomorrow at three? At that old park we always used to go to?” I chose that place because I knew nobody would recognize him there, now that he was famous, and it was someplace nobody could hear a lot of yelling once I told him the “big news”. Or maybe that was a bad thing.
“Sure thing, See ya to tomorrow.” And just like that I had a date set to meet the man I thought I’d never want to see again in my entire life.
The next day, a Saturday, at around two o’clock, I got Jordan all washed up and ready to go.
“Where are we going mommy” he asked me, puzzled.
“To meet someone very important” I answered.
I stuck Jordan in the back seat of my old, slightly run-down car. As I drove I glanced in the back seat. He had the same facial features, especially the eyes, as his dad, with my thick, dark hair. It suddenly hit me how easy it would have been for someone to realize whose child this was, and if it happened to be the right, or in this case wrong person, they could have spread the news like wildfire and my life would have never been the same. The thought sent chills down my spine.
I pulled into the parking lot of the park I used to love visiting, and pulled my son along into what felt like so many memories. We walked along for a bit, then I saw him. He was sitting on the picnic table we would always cut classes to meet up and just sit around goofing off.
When he saw me approaching he smiled and waved, but when he caught a glimpse of Jordan, he stopped and the smile was switched with a confused look, not mad, just confused.
Jordan remained silent as we walked up to the table, probably scared of the big scary guy with all the tattoos.
“Rain? Who-“
I cut him off. “Trace,” I began, afraid of a big blowout ,”this is your son.”
I braced myself for any yelling that might happen, and hugged Jordan close just in case. Trace pulled me to him and I was scared that he was going to start beating on me, but instead of hitting me as I had feared; he leaned forward and kissed me. It may sound crazy, but I thought I could feel how much he missed me in that kiss, and how much he still loved me. Then I remembered why I left him in the first place.
To be honest, I forgot Jordan was still standing there and after I pulled away from Trace, I said, “You know why I left you right? You were kissing that other girl!”
He looked kind of sad, and I almost felt sorry. Almost. “It was the picture in that gossip magazine wasn’t it? I saw it first thing I got home and I KNEW you saw it.”
I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. He pulled me close again, and I let him. “Rain...those gossip reporters are all the same, all they want is dirt and they make anything up just to get it. She was a fan who wanted a picture with me kissing her cheek, but the angle of the camera made it look like something else. I tried to call and tell you, but you wouldn’t answer and I couldn’t figure out where you moved. At first I thought that you were just taking a break, but then I realized you weren’t coming back and it broke my heart.”
Then I lost it. “I’m so- s-so sorr-yyyy...!” I wailed, hugging him hard. What a stupid bitch I’d been. I felt awful.
“It’s okay,” he comforted. “You know, we didn’t actually get an official divorce and I’m glad because maybe, if you want to, we could get back together again?”
“Yes!” I agreed quickly, and smiled through my tears.
He let me go and looked past me to where Jordan was standing, looking startled.
“And who’s this, you said?” Obviously he didn’t catch me the first time. I pulled our child closer.
“This is Jordan, he’s your son.”
“That’s what I thought you said. Why didn’t you tell me?” He didn’t look mad at all, just a little hurt that I’d never let him know.
“Because I was so hurt after seeing that picture and jumping to conclusions that I didn’t really feel the need to tell you and I’m so sorry that I never said anything.”
“Hi Jordan,” he picked the boy up and set him down on his lap,”do you know who I am?”
He shook his head. “It’s okay Jordan,” I coaxed, “you can talk to him.”
He just looked at me, not knowing what to say. “This is your daddy.” I informed him.
Jordan smiled, excited with the fact that he had a dad after all. “Hi!” he squealed and gave his dad a big hug.
Trace hugged him back, “I love you Jordan”
“I love you daddy.” And even though they’d just met, I could tell they both meant it.
