He walked out and shut the door—the story of my life. Once we got past the get-to-know-each-other phase and things got more serious, my negative thoughts manifested my reality. What if he did this, what if that happened? At least I wasn’t delusional to believe it was their fault.
Mom always stressed to me the importance of being independent and not relying on a man for anything, I wanted to make myself vulnerable and lower my guard, but the past held me in bondage. Freeing myself from it seemed insurmountable. It required emancipation from a man who I would never see again.
At eight-thirty pm, I slumped into my sofa and exhaled some of the fatigue from the gruelling day. I had an abundance of energy in my twenties and thirties, but advancing past the mid-life stage took its toll on me. I closed my eyes and admitted to myself that the toll was more emotional than physical.
After Waffles finished his meal, he leapt into my lap and curled up in the fetal position as I stroked his fury body. He was my little baby.
I looked at the kitchen and felt exhausted at the thought of preparing a meal. I extended my arm and grabbed my phone. Apps are a wonderful invention, especially for getting a bite to eat.
My doorbell rang half an hour later, and I lifted Waffles off me and placed him on the sofa before I stood up.
“Hi, thanks,” I said smiling.
He’s kind of cute. Pipe down, Sandra. He looks like he just graduated from college.
I handed him a thirty percent tip like I always do. He smiled at me and then left.
I shook my head in disbelief about how far I had stooped. Usually, I would need a man to wine and dine me at least three times before I would let him even kiss me. But I almost invited a complete stranger into my apartment, hoping he would escalate.
Get a grip.
I chewed each bite slightly longer than normal. Knowing that I would digest unhealthy food made me more miserable. I had been meaning to sign up for a gym membership, but the arduous hours at work prevented me. I guess I could go on weekends, but those were reserved for spending time with friends.
My mentor’s words popped into my mind: Sandra, your friends are a great representation of your life. Jack was right. They were single like me. I enjoyed our chats and sipping coffee at trendy cafes, but after that, we went back to our solitary lives.
The besties often justified not having children because of their desire to remain in shape. I lowered my gaze to my stomach, which used to be tighter. My eyelids lowered, and I sighed. Who was I kidding? I needed to liberate myself from the fear of commitment. To do so, I needed to speak to the person who kept me in subjugation.
Mom knew where I could find him, but she would be distraught if I brought up the topic.
The best place I knew to start looking was at mining companies. The only thing I knew about Dad was that he was a miner. Mom rarely mentioned anything about him, and I dared not to ask. The only time I did that Mom gave me a look that suggested she wanted to eat me alive.
She also never detailed her divorce from Dad. I would’ve loved to have grown up with both of my parents. Seeing them interact with each other civilly and make a fuss over me would’ve meant the world to me.
I really believe that I would’ve developed a different character, allowing me to be more welcoming of men, had Dad played a key role in my upbringing. He would’ve taught me a different perspective from Mom, no doubt.
There were only a few mining companies in the surrounding towns, potentially making my search easy.
The first company I contacted was Precious Mining. They had never heard of my Dad, but they suggested I try Global Mines Ltd because most miners had worked for them. The supervisor spoke at length about my father, praising him for his work ethic and honesty. He said Dad had worked ten years for him before receiving an offer at Diamond and More Inc.
“Good day. This is Sandra McKiness speaking. I would like to speak to John McKiness, please.”
“Oh. John is no longer with us. He retired two years ago. Who am I speaking with?” asked the HR manager.
“I’m his daughter.”
“I see. I’m sorry, young lady, but I don’t know how I can help you.”
“Do you have an address, sir?”
“I’m not sure I can share such information.”
“Please, sir. Nothing would give me greater joy than to be reunited with my father. I haven’t seen him in decades. Please.”
He remained silent for a few seconds. “Well, he did speak about you an awful lot.”
My head perked up. “He did?”
“Yes. John and I were close. He was a great worker but an even better friend. A real stand-up guy. He kept a photo of you in his locker and looked at it before and after his shift. He said you were his lucky charm.”
My chin lowered, and my lips parted. I remained silent while grasping what the gentleman had said. I didn’t know whether the photo or being daddy’s charm overwhelmed me more. If that’s how he felt, why didn’t he get in touch?
“Sir, I’m pleading with you. If not for me, please, do it for your friend John. It seems like you know better than anyone how much he would like to have a relationship with his daughter.”
He kept quiet for some time. Eventually, he said, “Let’s keep this conversation just between you and me.”
“Yes, absolutely. You have my word.”
“John is at 340 Oxford Rd, Rosettenville. You can reach him at 555-1789.”
“Thank you so much, sir. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“Hope you work everything out with your father. Good luck to you. And send my regards to John.”
“Will do. Thank you again, sir.”
I poured a double vodka and downed it. That didn’t completely settle my nerves, so I poured another two shots. I stared at Daddy’s information, contemplating whether to call or visit. I doubted that he would’ve had a problem with me showing up unannounced.
More vodka gushed down my throat as my gaze pierced a hole in the paper, my eyes wearing it out. I wanted to see Daddy, but I thought he would want to know my intentions.
I stood up and paced as I looked at the floor, wondering what I would say. Delaying the call made me pace faster, amping up my anxiety. The only way to subjugate it is by picking up the phone, Sandra. Just do it. You’re not going to die.
I gulped and then snatched the phone off the table. My foot tapped as the phone rang.
“John McKiness speaking.”
My heart leapt into my throat, and my eyes widened. Oxygen seemed to evade my nostrils.
“Hello,” he said.
I opened my mouth and inhaled. “Hello. This is Sandra…your daughter.”
“Sandra, my dear.” His voice was jubilant. “Oh, my. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” I said softly. “You?”
“Much better now that you called.”
I detected some raspiness in his voice. “That’s good. I hope you’re feeling well.”
“Oh, it’s just old age. It does that to a man. I’m so glad you called. It’s wonderful to hear from you.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. I was hoping we could talk.”
“Absolutely. That would be marvellous.”
“I can come over today if that’s all right.”
“Wonderful. I can’t wait.”
I wore my favourite dress and a touch of make-up to cover up a few wrinkles. Daddy wouldn’t appreciate my face smudged in make-up.
My heart thumped against my chest after I rang the doorbell. I knew Daddy would be delighted to see me, but I feared hearing anything unpleasant about his relationship with Mom.
Daddy opened the door, leaning on a cane and wearing a suit. His grey beard, neatly trimmed, covered his slim face. His lips stretched, and he extended his right arm, hovering in front of me. I leaned into him, gently pressing his back.
We pulled back and stared at each other, smiling. Daddy stroked my face and said, “You’re more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”
Tears stung my eyes, making me close them. I bowed my head and rubbed my eyes. Daddy put his hand on my shoulder and said, “That’s alright now.”
I looked up and saw tears glistening his eyes.
“Come inside,” he said.
I closed the door and then bent my left arm. Daddy clutched it, and we walked slowly to the couch.
After speaking for two hours, we discovered numerous things about each other. The only thing left to discuss was the reason for my presence. I felt my heart gain momentum, and I swallowed, thinking about broaching the topic. It wasn’t going to be easy, but discussing it was compulsory.
“I hate to ruin the mood after such a lovely conversation, but I need to ask about what happened between you and Mom.”
Daddy looked down and then back at me. “What would you like to know?”
“Why you walked out on us?”
“Your mother got pregnant before we married. Our relationship wasn’t perfect, but we got by. Something happened that changed everything.”
“What?”
“You.”
I frowned. “Me?”
Daddy nodded. “Yes. I suspected something wasn’t right, so I asked your mother to get a DNA test to prove that you were my child.”
“And?”
“She refused, said I was a disgraceful husband and father who had no respect for the woman who bore him a child.”
“Then what happened?”
“Shortly after that, your mother filed for divorce. She got full custody of you, and I wasn’t allowed to see you.”
I leaned forward. “Why not?”
“Your mother’s attorney convinced the court that I was mentally unstable and could cause you harm.”
My forehead wrinkled. “What?”
Daddy looked down and nodded. “It breaks my heart to know that you grew up without a father.” He looked at me. “I’m sorry, Sandra. Wish I could’ve done more.”
My gaze lowered to the floor as I tried to comprehend everything Daddy had said. For all I knew, he wasn’t even my father. Why didn’t Mom take the DNA test?
“My lawyer contacted your mother numerous times throughout the years, requesting I be involved in your life, but she would hear none of it.”
“You mean you weren’t allowed to be involved in any way?”
“Apart from the child support until you were eighteen and alimony for your mother.”
I kept looking at Daddy, not knowing how to apologise for all the injustice he suffered throughout the years. Even though uncertain about being my father, he still wanted to raise me and paid for my upbringing.
I kneeled in front of him and put my arms around him, my cheek pressing his. “I’m so sorry, Daddy. Had I known about this, everything would’ve been different. I’m sorry.”
Daddy stroked the back of my hair and kissed my forehead. We looked at each other, tears pooling in our eyes.
Shortly after sunset, I made dinner. I smiled as I served him, realising he was the first man I had cooked for. My ignorance and pride had prevented me from letting a man close to me so that I could show him my traditional traits.
The conversation with Daddy brought me closure and was more therapeutic than any session I attended. For the first time in my life, I felt free to make myself vulnerable and let a man experience the best of me.
A smile appeared on my face as I thought about giving myself to a man who deserved me. I felt robbed of the years I should’ve spent with him, but I couldn’t blame Mom, even though I wanted to. She didn’t prevent me from falling in love. That was my stupid decision, based on a false narrative.
The two men in the mining industry I spoke to were right about Daddy. He was a wonderful man. I couldn’t have asked for a better father.
At nine pm, I helped him get into bed and kissed his forehead. He stroked my face and said, “I’m so proud of how you turned out, Sandra. You’re an amazing woman.”
I smiled and held Daddy’s hand until he fell asleep.
Ten minutes later, I walked out of his house. My inclination was to confront Mom, but I changed my mind. I had spent almost my entire life in my past, and I would be damned to let it occupy another second of my time. It was time to move forward.
I drove around for half an hour, thinking about Daddy. I felt so bad for him. He must’ve gone through hell unjustly. He had every right to talk badly about Mom, yet he never uttered a word. She, on the other hand, had no qualms about making him out to be a villain.
Flashy lights of a cocktail joint appeared in my peripheral. I needed to digest something strong to help me grasp everything that happened.
“A Cosmopolitan, please. Be generous on the vodka,” I said to the barman.
“I’ll pour a double.”
“Make it a triple.”
After drinking two Cosmopolitans, I put my elbow on the bar and rested my jaw in my hand. Thinking about missing out on marriage during my best years drained more energy from me. I needed to snap out of brooding. I reclined, straightened my back and smiled.
Curling my lips felt like stretching a hard rubber. But a forced smile was better than looking miserable. The barman glanced at me and smiled.
“Excuse me,” said a man over my shoulder. “Is this seat taken?”
“No.”
“Thank you.” He sat and ordered a drink.
I couldn’t help but glance at him. His fresh cologne cleared up my clogged lungs, and his silky suit brightened my eyes. I wanted to say something to him to engage him, but I didn’t want to seem desperate. Ugh, what the hell? It was time to step out of my shell.
“Interesting drink,” I commented about his Old Fashioned.
“It’s old-fashioned like me,” he smiled.
I smiled. “Good to know that there are still those types of men around.”
“I’m Christian.”
“Sandra. Nice to meet you.”
Christian provided delightful company. He was charming, intelligent and radiated positivity.
Like a gentleman, Christian walked me to my car and opened the door for me. He took my number and set up a dinner date the following night.
During the dinner, he spoke about his passion for travelling and eventually settling down to have a family. I enjoyed his cavalier tone and the absence of profanity. The way his eyes sparkled as he spoke of visiting Italy and basking in the Renaissance culture prompted me to lean forward and smile.
His soft lips pecked my cheeks at my car. We gazed in each other’s eyes and then hugged before parting. I thought about him on the way home and before I got into bed. I couldn’t wait for him to call.
After the fifth date, I was ready to take our relationship to the next level. We had spoken about the future, and I was thrilled with what Christian had planned. Of course, I knew that sex is an important part of a relationship and I had to express my desire to have it with him.
I cooked dinner to show him my appreciation for all the times he took me out.
In the lounge, our glasses clinked as we toasted to the future, which I looked forward to. Christian placed his glass on the table and then looked at me. He put his hand on my calf and then slid it over my shin and up my thigh. My eyes followed his hand.
He tilted my face towards him with his finger and then smooched me. He unbuttoned my shirt, exposing my breasts covered in a lacey black bra. It slid off my chest as Christian unclipped it.
I raised my chin as he sucked my nipple and fondled the other one. God, it felt amazing. It had been far too long since my last intimacy, and I couldn’t wait to feel Christian all over me.
He grabbed my hand and led me to the bedroom. I was fine with spreading my legs open on the couch, but the bed gave us more space to let loose.
As I lay on the bed, Christian grabbed my ankles and spread my legs apart. He kneeled in front of the bed and licked my pussy. My mouth opened wide, and my eyes closed. He knew how to hit the spot with his tongue.
I emitted a few hoarse groans as he fuelled the lust in my chest. My chest expanded and contracted as my mouth dried. My right leg slightly convulsed as Christian dug into my pussy with his tongue and fiddled with my clitoris.
After licking me for some time, he stood up. I sat up and unzipped his pants, then grabbed his dick and stroked it a few times before leaning forward and putting it into my mouth. I grabbed the back of his legs and bobbed forward. He murmured a few times as my sloppy tongue wet his dick.
He groaned as I stroked his balls.
I turned around, my elbows and knees pressing the bed. Christian rubbed my ass and then stuck his dick into my pussy. He grabbed my hair and pulled it as he penetrated. His thrusts progressed, pounding my pussy more aggressively as I got hotter. I screamed and then dunked my head into the pillow, muffling my pleasure.
Christian pulled my hair, raising my face and making my screams reverberate. He spanked my ass hard, making me desire more of it. Sweat beads formed on my forehead. He continued the hard pounding, just the way I liked it. It seemed to me that he knew I wanted a gentleman at the table and an animal in bed.
My face and shoulders pressed on the bed as my ass perked up. “Ooh, you look so good, baby,” he said.
Christian grabbed my waist and then thrust short rapid movements. His dick drilled my pussy vigorously, making me pant. I shot out a few loud screams.
“Oh, yeah. You like that,” said Christian.
“I do. Give it to me. Don’t stop.”
Sometime later, Christian stopped. Both of us panted, trying to catch our breaths. Sweat had covered my face, and my pussy had never been that wet.
I flipped onto my back and opened my legs. Christian grabbed my thighs and pulled me towards the edge of the bed. He stuck his dick inside me and then grabbed both of my breasts as he thrust. I enjoyed looking at him as he exerted himself to please me.
Sweat had glistened on his chest. He gritted his teeth, and a vein protruded from his forehead as his thrusts became more aggressive.
A few minutes later, he bit his bottom lip and pulled out his dick, shooting his load onto my chest. Some drops splattered on my face.
Eight months later, Christian proposed after I found out that I was pregnant. I used IVF to get pregnant, proving to the man of my dreams that we could build a family.
Having Daddy walk me down the aisle would’ve made my special day even more memorable. Unfortunately, he passed away three weeks before my wedding. Although he never got to see his grandson, I ensured that his name lived on by naming my son John.
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