My biological father, Christmas Eve, and a gift.

My father never received my texts letting him know I was in town. He had changed his number and never bothered to update me (one of his old girlfriends gave it to me). It was painful already and I hadn’t even heard back from you.

I figured I’d give it a chance…besides, things can change and I didn’t want to feel like I never gave the guy a fair chance. My father is a person who has been (and still is) struggling.

I pulled up to the small house. He stood in the driveway smoking a cigarette. His red car was parked in the driveway, which gave me some hope because last I recall, that car had been impounded because he had made poor choices. I hugged my brother and exited his clean white car.

As I walked up the cracked driveway, I stepped back into a world I’d stepped away from six years ago. A world I had tried my best to forget. I’d left all of my earthly possessions inside of my father’s house when I disappeared. He didn’t know that I already knew that he had gotten rid of everything I owned.

Curiosity killed this cat. I stepped into the house I lived in during some of the most challenging, confusing, and weirdly historical moments of my life (eight lives left).

I looked down at the floors…or lack thereof.

Where were my lamps I’d hand selected? Where was the art from the Nelson-Atkins museum? Where were my paintings? Where was my coat I’d been gifted in Aspen? Where were my journals and business suits? Where were my shoes? Where was my china? Where was my coffee maker? Where was my white leather coat I’d been gifted in Vegas?

Did I ever exist?

I stared at what used to be a gallery wall filled with beautiful art and funky frames .

“MY MAN CAVE MY RULES” stared back at me.

Something told me that there weren’t really any rules at this house so it was giving “false advertising”.

Cigarette smoke clouded the small house and there was a random guy on the couch. Something about him rubbed me the wrong way.

I was unsure as to whether or not to sit down, so I just stood in your kitchen and admired your mugshot you’d proudly posted on your refrigerator, the same way I’d put my son’s soccer picture on my refrigerator.

I listened to you brag to the guy on the couch about how people would show up at the house and harass me because I was a popular online. I’m glad my terrorizing experience gave you some bragging rights..I guess you just kind of have to take whatever you can get these days, I get it.

I offered to pay for lunch, but you allowed (one of) your girlfriends to cover half of the bill (I am glad you are able to feel like you could take credit for lunch). Lunch was really nice and we decided to hang out a bit longer and throw some darts in your dining area (because you’d somehow gotten an electronic dart machine and basically converted your living space into a dive bar).

Cool.

After lunch, your girlfriend (the one who paid for lunch) walked into the house with me while you fed some random dog you had tied up in your yard. I’d assumed it was your dog (you know what they say about assumptions).

I’d assumed the big bags of gifts along the wall were gifts you’d purchased for your children and grand children (you know what they say about assumptions).

Your girlfriend (the one who bought lunch) looked confused and stated she would “be leaving because I don’t really know what to think right now”. I had no idea what was going on so I hugged her and thanked her.

I cranked up some Lynyrd Skynyrd and threw some darts across the room.

Enter Batman, stage right.

You looked a bit worried when you entered the home smoking ANOTHER cigarette.

“Fuck this bitch” you grumbled as you plopped into the broken recliner and kicked your feet up. It was clear I had totally missed something.

Curiosity got the better of me again (seven lives left) and I asked what was going on…maybe I could help you remedy the problem somehow? Besides, you’re my dad…I care about your feelings and what you have going on…or at least I did before you answered my question.

You proceeded to explain to me how you had another woman’s dog at your house. You also explained that the owner of the dog had purchased all of the gifts in the house. You made every excuse in the book as to why all of this was all of THEIR fault. I listened to you talk about how you needed to just “do your thing and be your own man”.

You lit ANOTHER cigarette.

What you didn’t know …I already knew exactly what this woman looks like. I knew that she was older. I knew that she was supporting you. Your (other) girlfriend had just gone out of her way to treat us to lunch on Christmas Eve. She made sure that you didn’t miss the chance to spend time with your first born and only daughter.

You then decided to go ahead and open all of your gifts in front of me (I didn’t have any gifts to open).

I sat on a barstool while you unpacked vintage batman memorabilia, comic books, grilling tools, action figures…the list goes on and on. You retrieved a Batman hoodie with a matching hat and the hat caught my eye.

“Hey Dad, let me have that hat and you have the hoodie!”

Your response cut me like a sword. “No, back off. This is mine.”

I sat there in total shock. I started to get choked up.

“You can have anything else, Elizabeth. You cannot have this hat.”

I stared back at this man and I did not allow myself to shut down for the first time. I expressed myself.

“I thought maybe you could wear the hoodie and I can wear the hat and then we would have matching gear no matter where we are. It would be like taking you with me everywhere I go.”

I’d just openly expressed that I wanted to have my father in my life., to which he replied:

“Fuck you. You’re just saying shit like that so you can have this hat.”

I felt something I couldn’t explain as I told you to keep the hat.

You continued to open gifts from the owner of the dog still tied up in the yard.

I stared into a freezer with zero ice and three bottles of liquor. You seemed to be having a nice time.

Once you were done celebrating your Christmas gains you stepped into the kitchen a retrieved a black box from your bottom cabinets. I sat on a bar stool drinking hot cola with no ice as you opened the black box.

“What’s in that?” Curiosity stabs this cat (I only have six lives remaining).

Inside your black box were various drugs and you pulled a pipe you’d made at the last job you’d gotten fired from from the box.

“Well, it looks like there’s crack in the pipe. In the box I have some Valium, some weed, not really sure what else.”

You still had no idea that I knew that you’d gotten rid of my belongings.

“So hey Dad, is my mink coat still here? It’s like a fur and it’s about floor length.”

You ripped your pipe as you shrugged and played dumb.

I listened as you explained that my cousin who was 15, raising an infant alone (her boyfriend had been murdered), and living from relative to relative somehow managed to steal all of my stuff.

I listened to you make up whatever you could to prevent yourself from having to take accountability for selling and destroying all of my things. I didn’t feel disappointed, I’d known for years.

Enter stage left, Batman.

You swooped in like the hero you are from the back bedroom which also had all of the carpet ripped out exposing plywood and mold. You put a moving tub in the middle of the living room floor.

“I was able to hold onto all of this for you, though. I clung to all of this for you.”

I peered into a tub filled with moldy paperwork and junk. I began to dig through the ashes of what was once my life, in the middle of what had become my own personal hell. I retrieved all of the photos of my son and a laptop.

"I kept those baseball cards for you.”

Those weren’t even my baseball cards.

“You keep those, Dad. They’re worth a lot of money. Merry Christmas. Whatever is left in here is trash.”

You came in for a hug because you deserved one for what you’d done for me and you put the Batman hat on my head.

Enter Stage Right, Guy from the couch.

“Hey man, look at all this shit this cray bitch bought me. The other one is pissed so I can’t go to the casino with her tonight”

You lit ANOTHER cigarette as you bragged.

I had begun to tune you out as I caught then tail end of one sentence:

“…yeah and she stole my hat”

I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. Guy from the couch giggled, lit a cigarette, and ripped the pipe of what I’m assuming was crack, as he drank a beer.

“No. I didn’t steal your hat. I actually don’t want this hat. I don’t like it.” I had become monotone.

Hadn’t I been the one with enough money to cover lunch? Aren’t I the one with a job? Where were all of my things?

You brushed me off and continued to chat as though you were in a locker room. You put your hat and boots on and clicked your thumbs. I could tell you had somewhere to be and I knew what was about to happen.

You were legitimately going to manipulate the woman who had paid for half of lunch into allowing you to drive over. You then smiled as you bragged that she would be paying for you to gamble, eat, drink, smoke, and sleep in a nice room on the water. I listened as I organized your kitchen and cleaned lightly.

“So Dad, if you think these women are crazy bitches and causing you so many problems…why are you still talking to them?”

I listened as you explained that they just would not leave you alone…how you’re such a sensitive and caring guy that you had a hard time letting them down easy. You described how badly you wanted to do your own thing and be free of the drama. I could tell you were ready to leave but you didn’t want to look bad by cutting our time short.

“Well Dad, if you want to be free of people who are causing you problems, you should tell them to never contact you again and block them and then do your own thing, right?”

You called them a few more names and gave some other sad story. Guy from the couch lit ANOTHER cigarette.

“So Dad, why are you going to spend the night with her tonight? Like if you don’t like her and think she is so terrible, why are you driving two hours to be with her?”

You finally told the truth for once when you stated:

“Because I am gonna go get some ass and then come back home tomorrow.” you kicked your feet up on your broken recliner and lit ANOTHER cigarette.

Guy from the couch laughed and you seemed proud of yourself.

I figured since we’re being honest here (for once), I’d weigh in with my honest observation. “So Dad, basically you’re keeping these women on the hook and using them when it is convenient for you? You’re just telling them whatever to manipulate the situation and get whatever they’ll give you?”

You threw a lighter at me from across the room, “I hate that you’re a Psychiatrist.”

I felt somewhat complimented (I am merely a junior studying psychology), I also felt a bit sad that you knew nothing about me at all.

I checked my clock and it was nearing 8 p.m. on Christmas eve.

“Well Dad, I know you want to hit the road. I have to go. My brother is expecting me and tomorrow is Christmas.”

I walked to your bedroom door (previously my bedroom door) and swung it open.

“Hey don’t go in there.” I turned on the light and walked in a few paces.

“This was my room..” I stared at the concrete floors with no carpet, “..I just needed to see it.” The ceilings were molding.

There were no lamps. Just fluorescent lighting. The nightstand caught my eye and the fourth book down was black with silver leafed pages. I knew exactly what that book was. It was my personal Bible my mother had given me in 2009 when I got out of rehab for the second time. The black book below it, the fifth book down, was my personal planner from 2014…the year I’d lived in Vegas.

I entered the room, careful not to step on the piles of clothes, and retrieved both books.

“This is my Bible and this is my planner. I want these.”

I shut the light off and closed the door behind me. “I am going to have my brother come pick me up now.”

You offered to give me a ride and, although I was a bit nervous about the fact that you may have been high on crack, I accepted. I got into your red sports car and sat in piles of trash.

You lit ANOTHER cigarette.

I didn’t have much else to say so I acted really sleepy.

I exited the vehicle and when I opened the door to retrieve my bag, bible, and photos, I noticed the Batman hat you’d placed next to my backpack.

I left it on the seat and shut the door and walked into my brother’s house, shut the door, and hugged my brother. I didn’t have to say anything, he already knew.

“I have to shower, immediately. I need some time to myself.”

I took a bath, laid in bed, and let Christmas Eve 2024 sink in.

I’d feared cutting you off…because I feared that my son would do the same to me…I had identified with you.

I no longer identify with the man who never attempted to have a relationship with his first born child.

I no longer identify with the guy who chain smokes in front of his daughter, speaks vulgarities, and sells her drugs.

The only way I’d end up in your situation would be to do what you did …or failed to do.

I checked Amazon. My son’s gifts had shipped. Two more days until we are together.

I sent my son a goodnight text, said my prayers, and fell asleep.

When I awoke, it was Christmas morning and I was with my family.

As my nephew played with his toys, I felt a sense of peace and happiness.

I never want to see you again. Merry Christmas to me.