Where were you chronicles: Christian
“Arnold?” Christian mumbled.
“I didn’t call to — this is — its about your father, Christian. Its about your biological father.”
Christian glanced over at Cassady and took the phone into the bathroom.
“Ill be quick,” said Arnold, “your father is looking for you. Jot down this number.”
“My father? Man, please.” Christian laughed on the surface.
Deep down, he had never known himself to feel so many conflicting emotions. Which emotion was he supposed to go with? He wondered what this had to do with Arnold. He rushed into the kitchen to grab a pen and wrote the number down.
Christian took the phone from his ear as he stared at his biological father’s telephone number. Not only was he talking to the man who adopted him, then forgot about him after the divorce, but he was speaking about the biological father he had never met? He pressed the phone to his ear and found his adoptive father completely silent.
The man obviously wanted nothing to do with him; Sadie made it perfectly clear that Arnold was finished raising children. Sadie explained to a five year old Christian, fourteen years ago, that Arnold had only gone through with adopting Christian in an attempt to salvage his marriage. But as Sadie’s world began to revolve around Christian and being the perfect family, Arnold’s world began to revolve around a new woman. The woman Arnold would start a new life with.
“I didn’t give him your number or your address. I told him it was up to you,” Arnold said.
“Did he say why?” Christian asked staring down at the phone number.
“Christian? I didn’t ask him that,” Arnold said impatiently, “all I know is he got my number from your real mom,” Arnold replied.
“What?” Christian breathed.
“Hey, tell your — tell Sadie — tell her hello. But tell her I can’t give her any more money, all right? That’s not my job, anymore.” Arnold hung up the phone.
Christian cursed at the dial tone, hung up and sat down at the kitchen table. He gathered himself. He picked up his father’s telephone number and began to dial. His heart pounded, his mind went blank.
“Hello? Chris? It’s Ray,” said the voice on the other end.
“Yeah.” Christian folded and unfolded the telephone number.
He was speaking with his father? He considered hanging up. He watched Cassady pull an overnight bag out of the hall closet.
“So you were looking for me? What, I mean,” Christian’s voice trailed off.
His voice was hoarse. His mouth was so dry he could hardly swallow.
I am but a receiver of a message; this message is but a thing of the past.
A past with dim thoughts of its future; a present as fragile as glass.
Donesha T & RH