Good things follow Bad Ones..., chapter 1
"He's not your dad," The last words mum muttered before she died, the cancer took over. She shouldn't have died like this, she was only 31, but the breast cancer killed her. We were close, I guess because she was only 15 when she had me, she always understood me. Dad loved her, he loved me. Well I call him dad, now I know he wasn't.
It all made sense, me not being like either parent. Sure we all had black hair and me and my mum shared a green eye (my other eye was blue), but other than that we were different. My love of coffee for instance, no one else in my family loved it. The final piece in the puzzle was the charred remain of my birth certificate, which mum had burned; someone on it was called Pritchard.
Even when I found out my dad was not my birth father; I still loved him, maybe even more than before. He was also kept in the dark about him not being my dad, but he still loved me. He still treats me the same. This makes it even more painful. I want to find my real dad, and all I have is a name to go on, and mum's letter.
I need to explain. Mum left me a letter, to open after she died. My dad got one, and she sent one to my real dad. I guess it was time to open mine. It smelt of her, I missed that smell, I missed everything about her. Her 'Snoopy' stationary even reminded me of her, everything did, from her clothes to a tree we walked past only last week.
It was the moment of truth. I opened the envelope carefully, not wanting to rip something which reminded me of mum:
Dear Joanna,
I'm sorry. I should have told you about your dad earlier, I know that finding out who your dad is will be the only thing you want me to tell you. His name is 'Michael Ryan Pritchard', he was 18. We loved each other. He came over to England, on tour with his band, and we fell in love. When he returned I wanted to go with him but your grandfather wouldn't let me. All I know now is his name, that he lives in America and that he owns a café, it's called 'Rudy's Can't Fail Café'. It's in Emeryville USA. Go find him, I arranged you a flight, he knows you're gonna find him- Nothing more, nothing less.
I Love You
Mum.
Xxx
P.S I know you call yourself Joey but even in heaven, you're still my Joanna Rose
I had to find him. Tipping the envelope out to reveal a ticket to California, tomorrow. Was I really going to go? Meet a complete stranger, who is apparently my dad. Yes. I ran upstairs pulling my black holdall out of my closet. My room was covered in Green Day posters, Billie Joe Armstrong, Mike Dirnt and Tre Cool. They were my idols. As much as I hate to admit it, I didn't know that much about them. I wanted to find out more, but I didn't have a computer and none of my friends liked Green Day. I guess this is a lie, I had no friends.
My holdall still lay on my bed; I stuffed in everything I could, except my bass. I would never risk it, it was too old. Actually it was broken down. I dreamed of a new one, but I could hardly afford it. The bag was full with clothes and money, the last thing I needed was too special to go in the bag. My mum gave me it just before she died, telling me not to open it till after she had gone. It was a locket, inside a picture of her and Michael with an inscription: Mike and Mandy, An Unbreakable Love
My flight was 10am tomorrow morning. I was ready; dad was going to drive me down. I wished mum was still here. She would have helped me find my father, I could never call this Michael, dad, he wasn't there when I broke my arm, or when I played at the local club on 'Ligman Street', the guy that I thought was my dad will always be just that, my dad. Even when I'm leaving him behind to find my father, he will still be the one I call Dad.
It all made sense, me not being like either parent. Sure we all had black hair and me and my mum shared a green eye (my other eye was blue), but other than that we were different. My love of coffee for instance, no one else in my family loved it. The final piece in the puzzle was the charred remain of my birth certificate, which mum had burned; someone on it was called Pritchard.
Even when I found out my dad was not my birth father; I still loved him, maybe even more than before. He was also kept in the dark about him not being my dad, but he still loved me. He still treats me the same. This makes it even more painful. I want to find my real dad, and all I have is a name to go on, and mum's letter.
I need to explain. Mum left me a letter, to open after she died. My dad got one, and she sent one to my real dad. I guess it was time to open mine. It smelt of her, I missed that smell, I missed everything about her. Her 'Snoopy' stationary even reminded me of her, everything did, from her clothes to a tree we walked past only last week.
It was the moment of truth. I opened the envelope carefully, not wanting to rip something which reminded me of mum:
Dear Joanna,
I'm sorry. I should have told you about your dad earlier, I know that finding out who your dad is will be the only thing you want me to tell you. His name is 'Michael Ryan Pritchard', he was 18. We loved each other. He came over to England, on tour with his band, and we fell in love. When he returned I wanted to go with him but your grandfather wouldn't let me. All I know now is his name, that he lives in America and that he owns a café, it's called 'Rudy's Can't Fail Café'. It's in Emeryville USA. Go find him, I arranged you a flight, he knows you're gonna find him- Nothing more, nothing less.
I Love You
Mum.
Xxx
P.S I know you call yourself Joey but even in heaven, you're still my Joanna Rose
I had to find him. Tipping the envelope out to reveal a ticket to California, tomorrow. Was I really going to go? Meet a complete stranger, who is apparently my dad. Yes. I ran upstairs pulling my black holdall out of my closet. My room was covered in Green Day posters, Billie Joe Armstrong, Mike Dirnt and Tre Cool. They were my idols. As much as I hate to admit it, I didn't know that much about them. I wanted to find out more, but I didn't have a computer and none of my friends liked Green Day. I guess this is a lie, I had no friends.
My holdall still lay on my bed; I stuffed in everything I could, except my bass. I would never risk it, it was too old. Actually it was broken down. I dreamed of a new one, but I could hardly afford it. The bag was full with clothes and money, the last thing I needed was too special to go in the bag. My mum gave me it just before she died, telling me not to open it till after she had gone. It was a locket, inside a picture of her and Michael with an inscription: Mike and Mandy, An Unbreakable Love
My flight was 10am tomorrow morning. I was ready; dad was going to drive me down. I wished mum was still here. She would have helped me find my father, I could never call this Michael, dad, he wasn't there when I broke my arm, or when I played at the local club on 'Ligman Street', the guy that I thought was my dad will always be just that, my dad. Even when I'm leaving him behind to find my father, he will still be the one I call Dad.
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