“Sophie, the thing is, a man who said he knew your mum many years ago got in touch with me shortly after your mother’s funeral. He claims that he is your father and…” Nicole pauses, hesitating before saying whatever she has to tell me next, “Well, Sophie, the DNA test we ran, confirms he is, in fact, your father.”
I don’t even know how to respond to what Nicole has just said. I have a father?
Nicole, thankfully, doesn’t push or tell me anything else. She lets me sit there and digest all that she has said so far. There are so many questions swimming around in my head I don’t know which one to ask first. Before I can work out what to say though, Nicole, continues, answering some of my unasked questions.
“Apparently, your mother and father knew each other when they were younger, and had a bit of a fling, resulting in your mother getting pregnant. According to your father, their relationship didn’t last long and he wasn’t in the picture by the time your mum probably realised she was pregnant with you. He had no idea you existed until now.”
“Then how did he know to get in touch with you?” I enquire, confused, and skeptical about the convenience of him suddenly appearing out of the blue now.
“Your father explained that he heard about your mother’s death and got in touch with the authorities to find out what happened. When he heard about your existence, he contacted me to find out more about you.”
Shaking my head, I’m struggling to take in all of this information. “Who is he? What’s his name?”
“His name is Robert Montgomery, he's a wealthy entrepreneur in America, California to be precise.”
We fall into silence, Nicole once again giving me time to process. I think I’m in a state of shock, which wouldn’t be surprising considering everything that has happened over the last couple of weeks.
Resting her hand in my knee, pulling me back from my thoughts and gaining my attention once again, Nicole softly assures, “I know you don’t know him, and he doesn’t know you. He would love for you to come live with him; he wants the two of you to get to know each other and try and develop a relationship”.
Maybe it’s the shock, but I'm finding all of this hard to believe. I mean, it all sounds too good to be true and good things don't happen in my life, so what’s the catch?
“Do I even have a choice? Can I choose not to go live with him, and stay here instead?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“I know you’re skeptical Sophie. Life hasn’t been easy on you, so why would you suddenly believe that your luck has changed, but we generally find that kids like yourself do better if they can be placed with family - even estranged family,” she adds on before I can interject. I can tell she is optimistic about this opportunity for me, and I don’t have the heart to tell her that this man might share my DNA but we sure as hell aren’t any sort of family.
“I would encourage you to be open-minded about this, and give it an honest try. You never know, you might be surprised,” she encourages, full of hope and positivity.
I don’t know what to make of all this new information. I have a father. One who wants to get to know me. I know based on my mums’ reactions when I mentioned him, that whatever my father did hurt her badly. Does that make him a bad guy though? Someone I shouldn’t at least meet? I’m not a naturally optimistic person so I, by no means, think I will go and live with him and my life will suddenly be all unicorns and rainbows; but life can only shit on you so much, right?
I’ve made my decision – not that I really had much of a choice in the first place – but at least I’m embracing it. “Ok, so when do I leave?”
Chapter 3
Within 24 hours of finding out I have a father, a fact that I still haven't wrapped my head around, all of my meagre possessions are packed in a suitcase and I'm boarding a flight halfway across the world.
Not only is this my first time getting on a plane, but I've got a ticket to fly first class - friggin first class!! The plane is huge, with everyone in first class having their own little pods where they can watch movies, play games, and listen to music from the screen placed in the back of the seat in front of them. You can also press a button that reclines the seat until you’re lying down, and everyone has their own window where they can view the clouds passing by.
There is even a bar area we can go to and sit at once the plane is in the air and the pilot has told us we can roam around the cabin. It’s insane.
As soon as I plunk my ass in the fancy seat, an air hostess comes over offering me a complimentary drink. Ordering an ice-cold coke, I take my time sipping on it, then relax back in my seat to enjoy the onboard movies and sleep for the next thirteen hours.
It’s only once I'm off the plane and waiting on my luggage that I realise I've no idea what my father looks like or how I'm going to know who he is amongst all the other people waiting for their loved ones to arrive from different flights.
I pull my suitcase through the spacious and modern arrivals lounge at San Francisco airport, searching the faces of everyone milling around in the hopes of seeing someone who looks like me, or looks as anxious as I feel. Honestly, I’m not sure what I’m looking for.
Catching sight of a man in a uniform standing off to one side, I realise I shouldn't have worried. Turns out I was searching the crowd for the wrong person. I shouldn’t have been seeking out a nervous father figure, but a hired hand sent to pick me up. Nicole did say my father was wealthy, this must be how the rich greet long-lost family members. How touching.
The man is a tall, average looking guy in a black suit and tie, wearing one of those driver’s hats you see on chauffeurs in old movies. He is holding a sign that says ‘Sophie Montgomery' on it. So not my name. It seems too coincidental that he could be here to pick up any other Sophie. I guess my father couldn’t be bothered to greet me himself, but already has a sense of ownership over me by changing my name, without even informing me. Excellent first impression dad.
Reminding myself I am supposed to be giving this a serious try, and not immediately writing him off, I drag myself and my bag over to the guy.
“Hey, I think I might be who you're here to pick up but my name is Sophie Prescott, not Montgomery”. I point out hesitantly, still looking around at the other strangers waiting to greet people as they come through arrivals, in case I have the wrong person.
The guy gives me a cursory once over. I mustn’t meet his expectations, if his unimpressed look is anything to go by. I’m guessing my faded 'Rolling Stones' t-shirt and worn jeans with non-fashionable rips at the knees bought from a charity shop, along with my face, clear of any makeup, and messy hair with dead ends scraped back into a ponytail, aren’t good enough to cut it here in California. Thank goodness I've never given a crap about what other people think about me.
I've always been the girl who has no money, wears clothes that don’t fit her, never going to school events or on school trips and never hanging out with others or making friends, always sticking to myself. As such, I've always been classified as an outsider and, while it might be a lonely existence, it’s one I am content and familiar with. I'm certainly in no rush to change who I am just to fit into my father’s life, especially when he has better things to do than pick me up or get to know me.