Page 5 of I Shouldn't Feel This Way

As the days passed on, I had hoped and prayed that Noah would contact me again. But there were no more phone calls. I knew nothing about him other than the few details my mom had shared with me. I had no idea what his profession was, where he was living, and whether he was still battling an addiction or not. All I had was a long list of questions that needed answers.

It wasn’t until a week later that my mother got served with legal documents from Noah’s lawyer. Noah was taking her to court to get custody of me. By the time we sat down at dinner the following evening, the subject of my father had become a trending Twitter hashtag: #DeadbeatDad.

“Why the hell is he trying to get custody now, after all these years?” asked Rob, slicing his chargrilled steak with a knife.

“It’s pointless if you ask me,” Mom replied, pouring some soda in her cup. “Aria will be eighteen in April. By then she’ll be a legal adult. He’s wasting his time.” She paused. “Although, I’m not surprised. He’s just trying to prove a point, that’s why he’s taking this to trial.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be so bad having the kid dumped off at his place for a year,” my stepdad answered with a mouthful of meat.

“That’s not funny.” She smacked his arm. “He was only joking, sweetheart,” Mom said, reassuring me with what seemed like a comforting smile. But I knew better. Rob didn’t give a crap about me.

“Chances are,” Mom continued, “the judge will rule in our favor due to Noah’s history with drug abuse. So I’m not worried.” She grabbed the tongs and served some salad onto Terry’s plate.

I made no commentary and listened. The whole situation had me confused. All I knew was that my thoughts and feelings were important when it came to ruling a decision in the courtroom, and I honestly had no idea what to expect next.

CHAPTER TWO

aria

It was a gloomy, Monday afternoon on November 5, 2012, when I stepped inside New York City Family Court and came face to face with my father. I swear I didn’t even recognize him, but I assumed he was the man with dark curly hair dressed in a blue suit and tie. He was sitting next to his younger looking lawyer. They both stood up and faced us when we walked inside. My father hardly gave me a second glance, while his lawyer just stared at me; he was dressed in a dark gray suit, and had short brown hair that looked freshly cut. I noticed that he had a very masculine jaw, with the most intense blue eyes I had ever seen. There was a flawless symmetry in his face, and he was quite tall, approximately six foot two. For a man of the law, he was extremely handsome and could’ve passed for a model. I felt myself blushing when his eyes followed me to my seat.

Why isn’t my father looking at me?From what I could see, he appeared to have not aged so well compared to my mother, and had a bit of a paunch.

“Aria, I’m so sorry,” the lawyer said with tears in his eyes, and I couldn’t understand why or make any sense of it.

Why would he be sorry? Is he a close friend of my father?I asked myself.

“Noah, sit down,” the other man said. “Remember what I advised earlier? You’ll get to talk to your daughter in due time. I promise.”

Oh. My. God. The man with the curly hair and potbelly wasn’t my dad. He was the lawyer representing Noah—the youthful man with the ocean eyes. How could I have not recognized him? True, I had never seen a photo of my dad before … but still! Mom hadn’t kept any pictures of him, so I had no idea what he looked like. Those eyes should’ve been a dead giveaway. How could I have missed such a crucial detail? If I made a comparison between my parents, Mom definitely looked a lot older. I guess the hard times in life had aged her.

My estranged father kept glancing at me, while I kept blushing like an idiot. For some reason, I couldn’t hold his gaze longer than two seconds. He looked way too young to be in his thirties.

The court proceeding was long and tiresome, as both lawyers kept negotiating back and forth, each defending his own client. When I finally took the stand, the judge asked me to truthfully express what I wanted. Personally, I wanted to tell her that I didn’t feel safe at home, that my stepdad was always drunk and had a history of hitting me. But my mother had made me swear not to say anything, which is why I kept my mouth shut.

These past few weeks had given me an opportunity to think about what I wanted with my father. I was prepared to tell the judge that I didn’t want to see him or live with him. But everything changed when I saw the way Noah stared at me. There was so much pain in his eyes … regret. It was as if he knew me, but I had no idea who he was.

Much to my own astonishment, I had a complete change of heart. I told the judge that I always wanted to meet my dad and have a chance to get to know him. I also expressed that I preferred both my parents to share custody of me.

And so it was ruled: my father (who I had never met before) had finally obtained joint custody of his long-lost daughter. Noah Hunter was going to be in my life. A shooting star had fallen from the sky and landed in front of me in the form of a man. He was handsome. He was too flawless to be real. He made me feel something that I shouldn’t feel.

****

After court was adjourned, I followed my mom out of the courtroom but stopped when I felt a firm, warm hand on my shoulder.

“Aria.” His voice was deep and husky, and his touch made me shiver.

I slowly turned around and looked into my father’s eyes. The intensity of his stare was intimidating to me, but he softened his expression, flashed a wistful smile, and pulled me in his arms. His cologne was intoxicating, and his body was so warm and muscular. I could tell he had an incredibly fit physique hidden underneath his expensive suit.

My heart rate slowed down as I held my breath and felt my eyes well up with tears. Why was this happening to me? Why was I getting so emotional? Maybe because all my life I had felt so unloved and unwanted, thrown away like a piece of trash. And now here I was, finally reunited with the man who had made me. All I could feel in that moment was heartbreak, because I knew I could never ever love him like a daughter. It was a crushing reality, but one I had to accept.

He was a walking Adonis in human form, as if a Greek god had created me. I knew that I would worship my creator forever when he enveloped me in his arms so tenderly. It was undeniable. No matter how angry and hurt I was underneath, the faded traces of Noah Hunter’s name had been scarred on my heart ever since I was old enough to learn who he was. He held me for the longest while in his warm and loving embrace. It was right there in that still-frame second that I felt my heart set ablaze, resurrecting my love for him like a phoenix from the flames. I had never really hated this man, even though I had no idea who he was.

“I’m so sorry I’ve missed out on so many years.” There was a genuine hurt in his voice, and he struggled to hide his most vulnerable emotions. But his eyes were betraying those feelings. I wanted to respond, yet I was frozen, unable to speak.

“We have to get going,” Mom stated bitterly.

Noah slowly released me and held my hands while he evaluated my figure from head to toe. My face flushed with heat as I looked down.

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