Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. It involves elements of incest, alcohol, and questionable consent. All characters are at the legal age of 18 or older.
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"I'm telling you. Please just stay at home with me, Emily."
I can still remember how it all began with my mother's words. It feels like it happened so long ago.
As it so often happened in my life, I had to endure her nagging and guilt tripping. Whenever there was something I wanted or needed to do, she would try to shut it down. It was endearing as much as it was annoying. She was overprotective and unreasonable but didn't care to admit it. I was old enough to take care of myself, and her motherly care sometimes felt more akin to having a babysitter, rather than an adult who supported you no matter what, you know?
For as long as I could remember, it had always been just me and her. I grew up without a father, you see, which was unheard of in the remote town I lived in. Everybody knew everyone, so there had been no way for her to hide the truth before everyone heard the rumors. The teasing from my classmates was endless and school was a nightmare. It was only recently that I had learned the reason why my dad ditched me before I was even born -- he didn't know I existed.
This was something I wasn't told until very recently, at the start of this very December. My mother had gotten tipsy. Well, drunk -- more so than usual -- and she ended up spilling the whole truth about how she met my father back in her college days. Apparently it had started as a fling after they first encountered each other in a dance club. She was smitten, right away.
He wasn't a student. He had a job in construction despite being the same age as her. So after just a month of dating, her parents had put a stop to their relationship. Nobody even knew she was pregnant until many months later when her water broke and she was sent straight to the delivery room to give birth to me.
In a perfect world, she would have reached out to him again.
But nope, little me was born and my mother left the city to raise me far away from my grandparents, away from my dad, away from everyone.
"I'm not staying," I answered her defiantly. She had controlled my entire life and it had been full of flaws left and right. There was no way for me to make things worse even if I tried. It's just like they say in those silly fortune cookies, sometimes the best path is the one right in front of you. After so many years of being told what was best for me, I might even end up taking pride in making a mistake. Good or bad, it would have been my choice.
"At least get your degree first, study, and pick a career! There will be plenty of time to travel in between. I just want you to pick the safe choice, all right? If you do this now, you will just regret it. I know you will. Trust me, Emily, please!" My mother was anxious, she breathed heavily and her gaze fixated on me.
She blocked the exit with her body and held tightly onto both sides of the doorframe. She didn't want me to leave the house. Unfortunately for her though, I had been waiting eighteen long years for this chance to get answers and to meet my dad. I just didn't know it had been leading up to this moment.
"I'm sorry." With those words, I grabbed my duffel bag and pushed my way past her with renewed determination. She still didn't want to let me go, but she didn't have a choice.
So there I was, on my way to the city. The train ride was rather uneventful. I found myself staring out the window with a hollow feeling, like parting ways with an old and trusted friend to seek out the unknown. Those thoughts were gnawing on the back of my mind. This was a whole new territory for me, I had never been to the city nor had I ever been truly on my own. The only safety net I had were some small savings in my bank account. That wasn't reassuring at all.
Another issue I thought about was the problem of actually finding my dad. I had a couple of old and faded pictures which gave me a rough idea what to look for. I didn't have an address, but I did have his name -- Carl Richter. The name of my father. It sounded European, which was another thing I was looking forward to ask him about. I also knew where he used to work twenty years ago, which I hoped would prove useful even after such a long time.
The train ride took a couple hours and I arrived in the late afternoon. The first thing I noticed upon stepping out of the train was the dirty cityscape and the foul air. I hadn't seen much just yet, but my first impression was a negative one for sure. People were rushing past me, bumping into me, and completely minding their own business. For a small-town girl like myself, it was a culture shock.
Nonetheless, I knew I was on a tight schedule. I could get a hotel for the weekend but that would drop my already depleted savings by a lot. Man, talk about feeling nervous and rushed. So I set out to visit the place my father used to work at.
It was an old factory, for the assembly of heavy machinery. It gave me a better idea of what he might be like as a person. Most of the machines were old and outdated, but they still completed the job just fine. The air was thick with the smell of spilled oil, steel, and metals. I couldn't imagine enduring this for more than a day, that was certain.
Of course, they ended up telling me that he was long gone after so many. But, they were able tell me exactly where he used to live. I quickly deposited my duffel bag in a safe locker. Until I actually needed access to fresh clothes it was pointless to bring it everywhere. The company told me that my dad lived near the city center so that was my next destination. The next bread crumb to chase after.
There was a crazy amount of commerce and residential areas. There were so many people all around me, wherever I looked. The city was alive. In my eyes, it felt like heaven -- so many new things to explore. I briefly toyed with the thought of seeking out an arcade and getting a feel for those retro games I had fancied since my early childhood, but dismissed the thought. There would be plenty of time for that stuff after I finished the task at hand.
My fingers kept reaching back into my pockets to have another look at my dad's pictures. With every person that walked past me I did this quick mental check -- could this be him, what did he look like now? The person in the picture was a bulky but handsome guy in his early 20s, with a scruffy beard. I dare say he looked kinda cute back then. His hair was styled up, short and pitch black.
Would he even recognize me? I was just a petite girl and looked nothing like him. Just a little toned from the mandatory cardio lessons at school. Freckles were all over my cheeks, probably because I always forgot sunscreen. My curly hair reached way past my shoulders, and shimmered in the same light-brown color as my mother's. In fact, I realized that the only thing I visibly had in common with my father was the color of our eyes -- a bright blue, like the sky on a sunny day. But even that feature was concealed behind a pair of big dorky glasses. Years in front of the computer left me shortsighted, so the glasses weren't by choice.
Anyhow, I soon found myself in front of the towering apartment complex he was supposed to live in. I snuck inside when one of the other inhabitants returned home, and after walking up the stairway, I gathered my courage and knocked on his door.
Silence followed.
I tried again, but no sign of activity. Perhaps he was shopping or simply at work somewhere.
With little else to do, I sat down by his doorstep and admired the pictures a little longer. It wouldn't be long now, I thought. It would be a happy little family reunion. Maybe I could even convince him to meet mom again and to start dating. She must have seen something in him all those years ago, surely she would be willing to give it another try with him. He probably has a great personality if they had such good chemistry.
The waiting was getting me nowhere. The sun was already setting. I had been sitting on my bum for hours and nothing happened, so I got back up on my feet and decided to try my luck elsewhere. Just as I was about to leave, one of the residents passed me in the stairway. After explaining the situation to her, the only tip she could offer was that he sometimes spent his evenings getting drunk, since she had occasionally seen him stumbling home. The odds of running into him by accident were astronomical, but it was worth a shot.
The nightlife was crazy. The streets were littered with drunk people of all ages and not all of them seemed normal and rational. Some guys I passed made flirty comments, and used pick-up lines that were so old that even I had heard them before. Gross. It was weird to see how lame some people acted when they desperately wanted to get laid. They weren't gentlemen by any stretch of the imagination.
