Dear John

I was almost a freshmen in high school when I sent the message. It was the first time I’d ever been in contact with him. Him being my birth father. I remember the raging emotions flooding my brain like a tidal wave crashing upon the rocks. Washing away my sense of direction while uprooting some emotions that were buried deep inside me.

Anger. Hate. Rage. I felt my heart begin to race. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead as I began to type. My quivering hands kept sliding across the keys causing error, but I continued to push. Word after word and letter after letter I made my feelings clear. A sigh was forced from my body unwillingly. It had ejected itself out. It brawled its way from my lungs and out into the open air. My chest began to tighten and I felt my throat narrow. I felt my hand slide across my chest as I clenched that hand me down sweater. I was hyperventilating and I didn’t know it. My head was spinning and my heart was flustered. The pulsing echoed in my head as I tried to get a grip on reality. My tempered emotions left me as the heartbreak crept in to hold my hand. Sadness filled the holes that my anger had left.

It was like ice. Ice against soft brittle skin. I was frozen in time. The thoughts came back but, this time they were different. The hate and resentment were gone. I wasn’t angry anymore, I was sad. The negative energies that feed sadness were all present at the party on my bathroom floor. Self-doubt was sitting next to fear and fear next to anxiety. They came closer and closer until I was trapped. I felt lost. Tortured by my thoughts, I was alone. I reached for the sink to pull myself off of the floor. I gazed into the mirror and saw nothing. The cold whispered to me, “You are nothing to him.” “He doesn’t care.” He didn’t want you, and he never will.” I took a deep breath and wiped the running mascara off of my swollen cheeks. 

I deleted the original message that was written to pierce skin and made it simple. “Dear John, My name is Kaylee Mayer. I am your biological daughter.” I jotted a few facts about me and my reasoning behind sending him this message. I mean I was a 15 year old girl that was going through changes and was jealous of other perfect families that had everything. Perfect families. Perfect mothers, perfect brothers and sisters. Perfect fathers. Those perfect families had perfect stories. I didn’t, I don’t. I had a dad but not a father. Not my biological one. I wanted to know my father. I wanted to know why he didn’t want me, why he chose his other family and not mine. But, I had a dad. A step-dad who stepped up and shined in the father role. I love him and he is my dad, but there has always been a piece of me that has been missing. A chapter in my story that I’ve never read. So, tapped lightly on my screen and I sent the message.

I felt foolish to think he would respond. It had been 20 minutes since I sent him the message. “Dear John.” How cliché. Couldn’t his name have been anything else? Like maybe, Robert or Steven or even Frank?! “This was stupid” I exclaimed outloud to myself. I tossed my phone onto my bed and fell back onto that twin sized kid bed that I hated. I felt disappointed again. This time it wasn’t about him, I was disappointed in myself for thinking that he’d care. I felt my bones ache at the idea of never meeting him. I rose slowly from my bed and walked myself back to the bathroom. I reached for some cheap makeup wipes and began to rub the crusted makeup from my face. The mascara that had run and the streaks of foundation. I wasn’t just removing the make-up off of my face, I was erasing the “what-ifs” from my head. The “could be and could have beens” they were just unreasonable to have. “It's better this way” I sighed as I dropped a wipe or two into the trash bin. 

I darted toward my phone when I heard my dad come through the front door. He knew something was up because I didn’t go and greet him at the door with a hug or smile like I always did. I always did. He stood in my bedroom doorway and asked, “What’s up kiddo?” My back was turned to him and I said, “Not much, just tired.” He could see my reflection in the mirror that hung next to my closet. “You sure?” He expressed concern as he took a step closer. I didn’t know what to say. “Should I just tell him? Belt it out quick, rip off the bandaid?” Those thoughts came and went through my mind. “No” I couldn’t tell him. I wouldn’t know what to say. I hadn’t told anyone that I messaged him. Not my mom, not my sister, and definitely not my dad. What do you say in that situation? How do you tell the man that raised you that you wanted to get in contact with the jerk who abandoned you all those years ago? How do you tell your dad that you want to meet your father?

I gripped my phone tighter as I turned to face him. Just as I was about to speak, “Ding” a message appeared on my screen. I gasped as my knees fell weak and I was back on the floor. My dad rushed to catch me. Tears streamed down my cheeks and ran down my neck. I felt numb. “What happened? Kaylee? Are you alright?” My dad started to panic. I looked up into his paternal eyes and let out a sigh of relief. I even laughed a little. My dad helped pick me up off of the floor. I smiled as I lunged into my dad's arms. He was startled at first, but then he continued to embrace me in his hug. “What is going on? Should I call your mom? Or a doctor?” He laughed. I took a deep breath and grinned, “No, dad. I’m okay. Thanks.” He looked confused, but I ensured him that I was okay and he left my room. I closed the door behind him. 

I hadn’t even read the message yet and I called my sister. “Kendrah? I did something. Don’t be mad.” I slid down against my door and onto the floor. I could hear my dad on the phone with my mom. My dad was confused and concerned. I could feel him pacing up and down the hall on the creaking wood floors. “What’s going on? Where are you? Are you okay? Are you safe? Do I need to come get you?” My sister blurted into the phone. I had to pull my ear away from the speaker as her words shouted through. “I’m fine, I’m at home, on the floor, in my room, in Minnesota, in the United States of America.” I said sarcastically. She hates it when I have a sarcastic attitude. “Seriously, I don’t have time for this I-” I cut her off and whispered, “I messaged John.”

“John? John who? John Deere? John Cena? There are a lot of Johns out there ya’ know?” She hit back with sass. She and I exchanged laughs. It grew quiet. “Seriously John who?” I was baffled that she didn’t know who I was talking about. She was the one who wanted to meet him. She was the one who pushed me to agree to any of this. This was her idea. “Our birth father, John. That’s who. You wanted to get in contact with him so I found him on facebook and I messaged him. He responded.” I said softly. I began to fiddle with the loose strings on my sweater. Pulling at the strings causing ripping in the fabric. “WHAT?! YOU DID THAT WITHOUT ME?! WHAT DID HE SAY? WHAT DID YOU SAY?! YOU WEREN’T MEAN TO HIM WERE YOU?”  She exhaled deep, as I heard a car pull into the driveway. I stumbled over to my window to see who it was as I explained, “I don’t know what he said, cause I haven’t read it. And for your information, I wasn’t mean. I was civil, very civil. I’m actually kind of proud of myse-” My sister swung my door open. “Let me see.”

We both sat on my little bed and read the message together. It was kind. He responded and he was kind.  I could feel my sister shake a little as we drew closer together. My mom softly knocked as she entered my room. She came into the room not knowing what had happened but, from the look on our faces she had an idea. She sat in between us as I handed her my phone. I watched her as she read the message. My sister and I made eye contact as my dad entered the room. Tears were rolling down all of our faces as we all looked up at him. He smiled, “It's okay. I know, and I am happy for you. I’d want to know if I were you.” My mom stood up and wiped a tear from her face, “We will be here if you need us.” Our dad came over to us and gave us a hug. “Love you, girls.” Mom and Dad left and Kendrah and I remained on my bed in shock. We took our time and really thought about what we wanted. We listened to each other and really came together. We wrote back.