Disclaimer: You guys know the drill. I don't own diddly squat--again because I'm a poor college kid. I don't know Ann M. Martin--if I did, my BSC collection would be complete.
Authors note: Thanks to all who reviewed and left the comments on "Jessi's Black". You really gave my ego a boost! And thanks to all at the BSC boards who inspired me with this storyline--I hope I do your ideas justice. :) Again, all comments are appreciated, all constructive criticism is welcome, and all praises are needed for my already massive ego. :D This story will hopefully be a few chapters long, and I'll write a full length story if this short one goes well. Enjoy!
Rating: T for teen...just to be safe. :)
-----------------------------------------------------
I loved Elizabeth with all my heart. I truly did. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she was going to turn my life upside down. I just never imagined it to be in such an extreme way.
My name is Patrick Thomas, and I abandoned my family.
Before you go calling me a dead beat mother so and sucker, just hear me out. No one else will--not even my own children. So let me tell my story to someone who's neutral. Someone who will listen.
I know that I shouldn't have left. And I regret that decision every day of my life. Every day that I spend without my children. Every day that I wake up alone, and go to sleep feeling worse. Every day when I drive past the school, or ride my bike through the park. Every Father's Day, every birthday...I remember all of my children's birthdays. Charlie's is May 17th. Sam's is January 25th. Kristy's is August 20th. And all of those days are days of mourning for me. "But what about David Michael, your youngest son?", some of you may ask. Well, that's all a part of MY story. David Michael isn't my child, and that's why I abandoned my family.
It was fight or flight. I chose flight.
--------------------------------------------------------
I guess the problems began a couple of years after Charlie was born. Elizabeth and I were young and dumb, and he was pretty much the product of two teenagers pretending that they knew what love was. Don't get me wrong, I loved Elizabeth. And she loved me. But we were just two kids playing house. We didn't know what we were doing.We were always angry at each other. The arguments were always the same. "Why don't you bring more money home?" That was Elizabeth. "Why don't you get a job?" That was me. "Why don't you stay home with the baby then?" Elizabeth again.
I was working at the Stoneybrook Herald in the mail room. Not exactly the glorious job that I imagined, but with a wife and son to support in a tiny apartment, I was going to take what I could get. And besides, I had to start somewhere if I wanted to be a hot shot journalist, right? Unfortunately, my pay checks weren't nearly enough for Elizabeth. But I worked harder to please her, to make our son proud of his papa, and I eventually got a steady spot on the paper. I was thrilled, and so was Elizabeth when the money started to roll in. And we were happy. So happy that we celebrated by having another son. Sam.
With each promotion that I got, we celebrated by having another child. When I was promoted to the head staff writer on the Sports page, Kristy was conceived. My baby. My princess. My pride and joy. The second I held that precious little girl in my arms, I was taken. She had my eyes. She had my nose. She had my face. I didn't know what was going on with me, but I was a man in love with my little girl, and nothing was going to keep me from her.
Everything was going great. We were the perfect family. I had my two boys that I could teach sports to, and I had my little girl who had my heart. I had a wife who loved me for the most part, and I would do anything for her. When Kristy was a few months old, we bought a little cozy house on Bradford Court. And we were cozy. There was a nice couple who lived next door, Richard and Alma Spier. Elizabeth was such great friends with them. We'd invite them over for dinner, they'd invite us over for movies. As Kristy learned how to walk, so did the Spiers' little girl Mary Anne. She was Kristy's age and they were fast pals. Eventually though, Alma got sick. I believe it was cancer that took her, if I remember correctly. Elizabeth and I were pretty upset about it, and when we tried to comfort Richard, he pushed us away. He sent his little girl away. He avoided our calls. He only left his house to go to his office. I guess one could say that he became a bit of a recluse. Elizabeth and I decided that he needed time.
Fast forward a few years. There's little league, lessons, 3 hungry kids to feed. More expenses, same amount of money. So, I started to bury myself into my work. Because Elizabeth was on my back. It was always more money with her, and when she asked, I provided. But then, she started to complain that I wasn't around enough. I tried to stretch myself. I tried so hard to be there for her and the children, and still put in extra hours so that I could get that next big promotion, thus leading to more money for my family.
I just wanted to provide them with everything that they needed.
I'm only one man. I can only do so much.
I guess it's my fault that I found her in bed with Richard Spier.
She tried to explain things to me. She said that he was lonely, because his wife had died. She said that she was lonely, because I was hardly ever around. So they found comfort in each other.
A likely story.
But I loved her. And I tried to forgive her. And when she found out she was pregnant a few months later, I still loved her. And I still forgave her for what she had done, while hoping that the child she was carrying was mine. Deep down in my heart, I knew that it wasn't. But I couldn't help but pray that it was.
While I was hoping and praying, I was drinking and working. Working helped me forget about my problems, drinking helped me REALLY forget. So while I'd write, I'd drink. Write a sentence, take a drink. I'm not saying that I became an alcoholic. I'm saying that drinking helped a whole helluva lot.
9 months later, the baby was born. David Michael Thomas. He was named after both of my grandfathers. I guess Elizabeth wanted to make it up to me. Because we both saw that he looked nothing like me. Charlie had my eyes. Sam had my smile. Kristy had everything else, right down to my personality. But David Michael had nothing. Except for maybe Richard Spier's genes.
I tried to move past the fact that he wasn't MY son. I tried to tell myself that even though he wasn't biologically mine, I would still love him as if he were my own. But that's just not how the world works. Sure, it sounds noble. It sounds like a great thing to do. I thought it would be easy to forget. But it's not.
Elizabeth and I never established the fact that David Michael wasn't mine. It was just sort of unspoken between us. And this unspoken fact left a lot of tension in the family. I knew that the kids could feel it. But we pretended that nothing was wrong. Or at least we tried to. So we got a dog. I don't know how we figured that would fix the problem. But we did. And the problem still lingered above our heads.