brigno:

drex:

My dad had two kids before he married my mom; a son and a daughter. These kids moved away with their mom and took her side after the divorce and he never heard from them again. That is, until Ronnie (named after my dad) showed up unannounced at our doorstep because he had no place to go and couldn’t find a job. He must’ve been my age back then. I remember my parents agreeing to kick him out after a few months because he never did anything about leaving or earning his keep. He never contacted us after he left and we forgot all about him.

But my mom, being a mom, thought it would be a good idea some years later to contact my dad’s kids while we were on a family vacation and headed through Michigan. We’d heard that the two had moved there and set up camp. Sure enough my mom found them and announced to my dad and I that we were going to have breakfast with them the next morning. My dad, a man of little to no emotion, was absolutely pissed. But he sucked it up and we went.

And it was nice. We exchanged information and hugs and promised to keep in touch. I think Nikki, his daughter, even teared up a little bit. But I was 11 or 12, I don’t remember really. Over the next couple of months the two would call and ask for money, using some elaborate story to get it out of us. We wouldn’t hear back from them afterwards…no “thank you” or “hey that really helped us out” or “we’re so grateful.” Nope. Didn’t hear a word. Not until my dad specifically called them to ask them what was going on and they acted as if he were crazy. Morbidly enough, he told my mom and I not to ever contact them should anything happen to him; especially if he died.

And he died. I was eighteen years old and absolutely devastated. The feelings I felt when I found out were so primal and uncontrollable they astounded me. I was alone, being the first one back in my dorm from Thanksgiving break. I don’t know if I would have acted any differently if I were with somebody, but I completely broke down. Getting off the phone with my mom, I collapsed to the floor and just screamed. I screamed until I was hoarse. I cried profusely in a way like I never had before. I kicked the walls and I punched my pillows, and ultimately, I trashed the entire room, throwing things around until I was physically and emotionally weak to do any more. And then I just sat. I sat and stared out the window silently, hardly moving, trying to understand what was my new reality. My dad was gone.

And of course, my mom, being a mom, called up Ron and Nikki. I had to take care of my professors and ask for extensions on finals and papers before I could go down to Florida for his funeral, but they drove down right away and got there two days before I did. As I was completely devastated, they were completely unfazed. They kept asking my mom how much she thought our house was worth, and what percentage she would cut them when she sold it. Needless to say, when my mom reminded them that they had nothing to do with our house and that she had no intention of selling it, they were out of there. My dad’s own flesh and blood did not attend his funeral. I should note that I am a Henderson because my dad adopted me; I was two years old when he married my mom.

Ron and Nikki contacted my mom and I by way of lawsuits. My mom tried to keep me ill informed since it upset me so much, but as I believe it, they were suing us for rights to my dad’s estate because they were never paid child support. If you’re thinking “What the fuck” right now, so am I. They eventually dropped it about a year and a half later when they couldn’t afford their attorneys anymore.

And today.

Today I get a message from Ron via Myspace. Let that sink in a little.

MYSPACE.

He types in all caps and tells me how it is very important that he speak to me and that I “must take this seriously.” It sounds very much like a business letter, as if he were going to negotiate an offer. Oh, and the subject is “THE PAST” (his caps, not mine). I cannot imagine what he would have to say to me, and I don’t want to hear it. This is mostly for his stake, as the phrase “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” should really go “Hell hath no fury like Danielle Henderson, PERIOD.”

I’m on the fence about what to do with his message. I could reply, or I could delete my account, like I’ve been thinking of doing for some time now. Deleting takes no work whatsoever, while replying has proven to take a lot. What I’d like to do is sound short, frank, adult, and mature. What I’ve come up with, is this:

“FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU (etc)”
…
“You are a pig of a son (also great because he is a cop) and should be ashamed of yourself.”
…
“It is really pathetic that a 35 year old married man with children has a Myspace account.”

I think those are all pretty bad ways to start off a response. And trust me, I’m really trying over here. But there’s one thing that I am protective of, and that is my family; and my dad is my hero.

Myspace: DELETED.