Filthy Daddy

“Good afternoon,” I say to the old biddies, remembering my manners and nodding to each one. “Mom, can we have a word?”

She places her napkin beside her plate and grabs her purse. “Sure, dear.” She turns to her friends. “I’ll be back, ladies. Don’t wait for me if dessert arrives.”

“Did you get us a private meeting room or suite to speak?”

“Yes, honey. Follow me.” Mom is smart enough not to ask what this is about until she steps into the private day room on the main floor that’s available to members. She turns to me. “What’s going on, honey? Is it the baby?”

I fold my arms and look at my mother in her conservative clothes and neat blonde bob haircut. I shake my head. “You and Dad lied to me for years.”

“What?” Mom tries to come across as innocent. I see right through it. Her eyes always dart all over the place when she’s hiding something.

“Stop it, Mom. You and Daddy lied. Now tell me which of you was involved with the Mongols MC so I can let you get back to your tea and crumpets.”

Mom walks over to the nearest chair and sits at the edge. Her hands are shaking. “I’m sorry we never told you.”

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry! I had to find this out from Silas’s mother when I could’ve heard it from you and Dad? You let me get to my twenties without knowing this kind of life-altering information! Wait a minute. Which one of you was it? Or is it? This is so confusing. I don’t even know what it’s about.” Mom says nothing. She just sits there looking down at her hands. “Mom, are you a part of the Mongols?”

Finally, she shakes her head. “No, baby. It was your father. Not exactly, but it was him.”

Now it’s me who needs a seat. My father lied to me all my life? The man who I adored and who loved me dearly? He took this kind of secret to his grave without telling me? I can’t even fathom the betrayal. And I can’t wait to get to the part about my birthmark that’s not a birthmark.

“But…how?”

“Honey, that was all my fault. I made him keep it from you. I’m sorry. He wanted to tell you when you were old enough, but I didn’t want to scare you. I was sure you didn’t need to know. Don’t be upset with your father. All of this is my fault….”

My eyes slowly look over at my mother. “How can his being a member of a gang not be his choice?”

“God… I never thought I’d ever have to tell this story ever. I need a drink.” She gets up and walks over to the minibar in the corner of the room. Opening the fridge, she takes out the first thing her hand makes contact with. She opens the tiny bottle of vodka and downs it, then repeats that with the champagne, white wine, and whiskey until all that’s left in the minibar are macadamia nuts, chocolate bars, and fizzy water. This has to be some story. She barely ever drinks alcohol.

“Enough, Mom. Tell me what happened and what you know. If I’m a target because of something you or Dad did years and years ago, I don’t want my ignorance to affect the safety of the child I’m carrying.”

“Okay.”

Mom dumps the last bottle in the now overflowing tiny trash can beside the minibar and comes to sit beside me on the sofa. The woman stinks of liquor. I shake my head to focus and listen.

Chapter 23

Molly

I watch my mother take a long breath before her mouth opens. The whole thing is unreal, but I’m so curious, I sit there and try not to say a word.

She finally looks up at me. “Your father and I had just gotten married. We lived out here at the time, not in Louisiana. We were heading home from work, driving on the I-15 when I started to feel carsick. I never got carsick, honey. Never. But that night, I felt ill. Your dad stopped on the side of the highway so I could get some fresh air. We walked down to a small embankment because I thought I’d throw up, which I did. He ran back to the car to get me some tissues, and…honey, your dad was looking for some tissues from the driver side. He walked around to the trunk when he didn’t find any, and that’s when a distracted guy on a motorcycle hit the open driver door…”