Somewhere Over the Pacific…
Dakota Roth…
Looking out the small rectangular window of the plane to see the white fluffy clouds, I half expected to see little cherubs lazing on the pillows of pure white softness. It was so picturesque as we flew towards our destination. Somewhere in the recess of my mind I remember making this same journey in reverse when I was barely five years old.
Glancing at my friend Charleigh who was fast asleep in her seat next to me, her headphones firmly planted in her ears, but I could hear the frantic beat of the Korn album that she was listening to, and I smiled. There was no way that I would be making this journey if it weren't for her. I hadn't even been sure if this was the right move but honestly what did I even have to lose right now? My life felt like it was on a precipice of something life-altering and it had all started a couple of days ago.
Growing up in Scotland had been challenging to say the very least. My mom had always had these ups and downs - days on end of her lying in bed, refusing to move, just burrowed down under her covers and point-blank refusing to move, days upon days of when she simply wouldn't talk to anyone - she'd just stare into space like she wasn't even there. Then it was almost as if a switch flipped and she would be like the Tasmanian devil - not able to sit down at all, cleaning and running around doing anything that she could think of to keep herself busy. Waking me at stupid o'clock in the morning to get into the bath. Coming into my room in the middle of the night to talk and when I say, talk; she talked. At times it was difficult to keep up with her because she'd talk so fast that it was almost incoherent. Then came the men - almost a constant revolving door of different men when she was in those manic stages. Weirdos who on more than one occasion made me feel more than uncomfortable which was when I installed a lock on my bedroom door. I knew deep down if they wanted in my room a flimsy little lock wouldn't be enough to stop them, but I figured the lock would give me time to grab a weapon to defend myself. There was little to no money in the house because mom had a very bad habit of spending it all on frivolous items with no regard to where our next meal was coming from, or where our rent money was going to come from. Because of her constantly changing mood she couldn't hold down a job for longer than a couple of weeks at a time.
Bipolar. That is what the doctor explained to us when I finally managed to get her to make an appointment. My mother was bipolar and while I knew that it was serious enough that one day, she was going to end up hurting someone, more likely herself, she refused to take it seriously. At first, she would take the pills that the doctor prescribed, and they helped, things became almost normal at home but then somehow, she got it into her head that those pills cured her, that they had mended what was fractured in her mind, so she stopped taking them. But here is the thing with bipolar-disorder - there is no cure. There is no fixing the chemical imbalance in the mind and no matter how many times I tried to make her see that, the more she dug her heels in. Screaming at me that she was fixed. Yelling that I wasn't a doctor, so I had no clue what I was talking about.
It was around this time she met Stuart. I guess if you were into the jock type, he was good looking enough, but I wasn't and had been less than impressed when he just suddenly appeared in our kitchen one Sunday afternoon helping himself to the limited food that we had in the fridge. And even less impressed when his eyes tracked my every movement. My only sense of relief was to know that there would be no repeat performance - come Monday he would be gone just like all the rest. Oh, how fucking wrong I was.
Stuart became a constant feature around the house - making himself at home. And I found myself becoming more and more uncomfortable. I started spending more and more time at Charleigh's apartment. It felt safe there. I felt cocooned from the whirlwind of life with my mother. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to get rid of Stuart because despite it all I loved my mom. She was my mom. Always been there. Regardless of her mental state she was the one who stuck around.
It never once occurred to me that she had lied about my dad.
My father had been a constant fixture for the first five years of my life when mom and I lived in the backwater town deep in the heart of Colorado. I don't actually remember much about the man other than his green eyes and ocean scent that always enveloped me when he told me bedtime stories. Mom and Dad met when mom had been on holiday in his hometown - from all accounts it was a whirlwind holiday romance that ended with a little line in a pregnancy stick.
Anyway things with my parents broke down relatively quickly as was the way when an unplanned pregnancy brought two strangers together and while I don't remember a lot of the arguments, thanks to Dad's friend Jeremy, or Uncle Remy as I remember calling him, I did witness a few of their more epic battles and in the end, mom bundled me into a cab and we boarded a plane back to Scotland where we have been ever since and mom explained as I got older that Dad didn't want us anymore. That he was tired of playing dad to a kid and a husband to a woman he didn't love. Of course, I believed her - what reason did she have to lie?
Reaching into my bag I pulled out the letter, I needed to read it again. I had to decide whether this was a good idea.
'My dearest daughter.
Well, it is your twentieth birthday today and I wanted to send this letter in the off chance that you would finally reply to me.
Up until yesterday (when I ended up calling your grandparents) I had no idea what your mother told you about me. I had no clue that she told you I didn't want you. I never actually thought that she was capable of doing something so utterly vindictive, some would say that was incredibly naïve of me and I suppose that those people would be right. I will never be able to forgive myself for that.
To address what your mother told you - there is nothing further from the truth, Dakota. You are the light of my life, always have been. My daughter who I am immensely proud of. If you believe nothing else of my letter, please believe that. I hope that your grandparents have given you all the other letters that I sent you. All of the checks are still valid, and the money is sitting in an account for you to take whenever you are ready, and they will stay there until you are ready.
I know it may take some time, but I would really love to hear from you. I would love the opportunity to talk to you, to get to know you. And for you to get to know me. It has been like living a nightmare without you here and I wish that I did things differently. I wish that I fought for you, and I wish that I hadn't lost these past fifteen years with you - I have made mistakes that you may never be able to forgive but I would like just the chance to try to make you believe how much I love you, sweetheart.
Anyway, I hope that you have had a great birthday. I am going to sign off for now. Take care of yourself, my beautiful daughter.
Until next time.
I love you.
Always, Dad xxxx.'
Tears pooled in my eyes when I thought about all the years that had been lost because my mother simply couldn't handle the situation of my dad being in her life. I want to hate her. I want to be furious that she lied to me. I want to be livid that she kept me from who appeared to be a stable man who from the looks of things had been desperate for contact with me. If all the letters were anything to go by.
Lying at the bottom of my bag was a shoe-box full of letters and checks for thousands of dollars. All birthday and Christmas gifts stuffed in letters and cards.
It was Charleigh's idea to make the trip out to see my dad. I was still sort of on the fence about it all. I mean, sure those were some pretty words in the letter, but words mean very little. Over the years he could have come to find me - it is clear that he knew where my grandparents lived so why not show up if he was so desperate to see me?
The truth is - I feel like I have been let down epically by both of my parents, but my mom was the one who was there. It was mom who supported and provided for me to the best of her abilities. Where was dad? Still in Colorado. Enjoying his life while I was living a nightmare for the most part.
As for enjoying my birthday. Yeah, if only that had been how things had gone down. No, nothing quite so normal for me - no, my twentieth birthday was spent being hit on by my mother's boyfriend and my mom walking in on the man trying to get his hands in my pants. And what did my mom do?
Blamed me that is what. I was the slut who was trying to steal her man. Of course, her accusations were only fuelled by Stuart stoking that flame of blame. I even still had the bruise across my face where she attacked me and then kicked me out. I believe that was what compelled my grandparents to finally tell me about my dad and give me his letters and cards.
I don't know if this was a good idea, but it certainly couldn't be worse than what I have left behind, right?
If I have learnt nothing else, it is that the truth always finds a way to prevail.