Page 39 of Poems He Wrote

“What?”

“The little show you put on while getting dressed. It’s beautiful, your body is beautiful.”

“Say that to my mother.” I laugh at his words.

“I am pretty sure she would prefer Jensen saying that to her,” he mumbles and rolls his eyes. His Balkan humor is so inappropriate sometimes.

“What the fuck, Noah. Ewww, I did NOT mean it like that!“ I basically scream at him, pulling his tee over my head.

I reach the stove and put a pot of water to boil. Noah showed me how to make coffee the Balkan way, and I’ve been doing it ever since. Boil two cups of water, move away from the stove, put in two heaping teaspoons of finely ground coffee beans and put it back on the burner. Once it starts boiling again, remove and pour into the mugs. He likes his black, while I like adding a teaspoon of sugar in mine, and if I’m feeling frisky, a splash of milk.

My nerves feel more at ease now, I am ready to face the turmoil rolling in.

“You can read it to me now.” I say, sitting a mug in front of him, taking the stool right across.

Noah smiles at me, but the smile never reaches his eyes. He turns the laptop on, clears his throat and goes right in.

My dear Ronan, my sweet, sweet girl,

I am so happy to finally hear from you. I am truly sorry I didn’t write to you. I have tried to find you since you turned 18, but I wasn’t so lucky in that department, as you can see. I would’ve reached out before, but I was not allowed. Your mother didn’t allow it. She didn’t allow many, many things, but this one hurt me the most. To this day I have a five year old girl-sized hole in my heart.

I do not know how much of our story you know, or if you know anything at all, but I would love to tell you my side of it.

I feel like it’s the right time to share what I’ve gone through. You are a big girl now, you will understand.

I was 17 when I met your mother, and she was 25. I was a little bit younger, but she didn’t mind. She liked it, said she had a lot to teach me.

“What did you just say?” I interrupt Noah, not even registering the words that are leaving my mouth.

“He was underage when they met.” Noah whispers, never lifting his eyes from the screen.

“Continue, please.” My heart beats wildly against my ribcage, I can sense the ground shaking beneath my feet.

...said she had a lot to teach me.

We spent one week together. Our last night together she slept over at my dad’s place, but once I woke up she was gone. She stayed gone for 5 months. When she turned back on my doorstep I was already 18, freshly 18, but 18 nonetheless. And she was pregnant. Really pregnant. Full belly and all.

I had to man up. I had to provide for the two of you. We eloped that week, I dropped out of highschool and took a job as a carpenter. I had to be a man for my family. I had different dreams back then, but I was happy to abandon them for you. For my family. To be a dad.

I worked many, many hours, so I was barely home, but when I was, I spent all my time with you. I wanted to be a good husband to her and an even better father to you. You were a child everyone would wish for.

A sob leaves my throat. I was a good child. She lied.

She…lied.

Noah wipes my tears and continues reading.

It started going south after your fourth birthday. She went out more, stayed out longer. She even left you alone on more than one occasion, thirsty and hungry. I never said anything about going out, I had some friends of my own, but leaving you like that, I have had enough. We had a big fight over it, but she said I should just take you away and leave, said she didn’t want to keep disappointing me with being a bad mother. But I never thought she was a bad mother. She wasn’t someone I would call a mother at all.

One night I was let off earlier, so I decided to get some chocolates for you, your favorite brand, the ones with hazelnut filling, both white and milk, and head straight home to surprise you. I found your mom two streets over, in the backseat of a car. Her abusive ex boyfriend’s car. They looked quite pleased with each other.

When I got home, I took you to the movies. We watchedFinding Nemo. It was one of the saddest nights of my life, but I couldn’t let you see it. When we returned home, you went straight to sleep, and I cried next to your little bed. I feel no shame saying this. I cried. My heart broke for the two of us. For you, my baby girl, and for me.

The morning after I took some of your hair and paid for a DNA test.

Once the results came in, my world came crashing down.

I wasn’t your father, Ronan, but I really wanted to be. I wasn’t your father, but every fiber in me wanted to be your dad.

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