Toe Tag Tic Tac Toe

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
This story is about my first meeting with my biological father. First on only meeting.

Submitted: February 12, 2015

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Submitted: February 12, 2015



When last I left you, I was 18 and running out of a farm house...Now I'm 34, still not old, but hopefully a little wiser. For the purpose of this story however I'll only advance one year, not sure exactly, could be a little more or a little less. The important thing is that it happened.
Mary Ellen, my other mother, the mother on the phone, from the farm house, she's moved away. Along with all my siblings...Headed out west searching for a better future. I don't blame them, times were tough around here at that time. Before she left though, I had to take care of some unfinished business. Up until now I've focused on my biological mother and aunt Dottie, 8 siblings, and the farm house. Mary Ellen had avoided telling me much about my father, not because he was a bad man, mostly because he left the "Y" and disappeared shortly after she and he well, did the deed, and before she found out she was pregos with me.
Now just to let you know, this meeting was 14-15 years ago now, and honestly after meeting him, I haven't had any contact since. Or need to mention his name out loud. So because of the absence of him in my thoughts and never breathing his name through my vocal chords, I have forgotten his name, so for the purpose of this story I'm going to call him Victor Vill.
My mother, Mary Ellen, the other mother explained that he didn't know anything about me. She never had the chance to tell him she was pregnant and that he was the father, he had left lake like I said earlier...but this is her telling me now. She knew his name, "Victor Vill" and that he was from PEI originally. For some reason, she had his number though. Maybe she had looked it up in anticipation of me eventually asking. She gave me the number.

The next day, or one day shortly after...I called.
" "Victor Vill" there?"
"this is he"
Taking a cue from my other mother...."Hi Victor, this is your son Jeff"
Dead Air....Dial Tone....what back.
He answered.
Right now you're probably thinking, nice JEFF, give the guy a heart attack over the phone. He didn't even know he had a son. Like I said, I am pretty straight forward, and being 600km away, the phone was my only option. Anyway is there REALLY any easy way to tell someone they have a 19 year old son.
I explained to him what had taken place after he had left the "Y", the one in Saint John, the one he was staying in when he met my mother, the other mother Mary Ellen.
Shocked he asked if he may call me back, he just needed some time to process the information. So I gave him my number and hung up.

There's a start Tami ;P

So I'm not exactly sure how long it took for him to call me back...Eventually he did call though and he said he was going to be heading through my town on some business and wanted to meet for lunch somewhere off the highway. We settled on the McDonald's on the West Side across the Toll Bridge. Like you'd know.

Mary Ellen, the other mother, didn't have much to go on, no pictures of him or even a good memory of him. I was going in blind. To avoid boring you, Im going to skip straight to the restaurant parking lot. Since that was where we were going to meet for the first time. I had described myself and car to him, in return he did the same. So we had some idea of what look for at least. For the first meeting of a ex addict and his son, McDonald's seemed the fitting back drop.

By this point I had given up on trying to imagine what he's going to look like, if he's going to like me. I was so far off the first time, no need to set myself up. Farm House, 8 siblings, the other mother and the aunt, aunt Dottie, remember? If you don't go back and read the first episode...not the place here to re-educate.

Fast Forward, awkward silence waiting in the car, his car pulls in, he gets out, walks over towards my car, so I get out and meet him half way. He was short about 5'5" and black hair thinning on top but trying to hide that by growing out the back, which was tied in a wimpy pony tail in the back of his round head. Face to face for the first time, we exchange greetings, and he introduces his co-worker to me that is traveling with him on business, who was still waiting in the car. Another gentleman, again, the name has left my memory, we'll call him "Jim" he doesn't need a last name he's not mentioned much from here in. Just setting the scene.

Jim, my dad Victor Vill, the different dad, and I, all head in for a Mac and Fries and a little chatter. I can't remember the exact order of the conversation, or remember what emotion I was feeling at the time. We talked for about an hour or less and he left with his business partner to continue on there way to there destination. Standing in the parking lot watching them pull away...all I could think was..."that was my dad?"

My father had met my mother during a very hard time in his life, like I said before he was staying at the local Y. The YMCA wasn't exactly known for there accomidations...basically a cot in a room full of more cots, occupied by other men in similar situations. He wasn't working and was pretty much doing whatever it took to get his next fix. He started with Mary Jane, Alcohol, and whatever else was being handed around. Eventually getting hooked on heroin. Doing odd jobs, and anything else that was required to obtain funds to support his habits.

Somewhere along the way he met my mother Mary Ellen, the other mother, not necessarily a "relationship" but more of a, hey were both here, why not do it?
He left town shortly after and crossed the border into the U.S., not breaking off with Mary Ellen, because there was nothing to break off in his mind. He eventually found himself in New York City, homeless, hooked on drugs, and doing whatever possible to get his fix. He moved around a bit; being homeless, you tend to migrate if you don't like the cold. Hop a train and head west, end of the line, Vancouver, BC. He spent a year or so there, eventually overdosing and being rushed by ambulance to the nearest ER, where he had stopped breathing, and was pronounced dead, sheet pulled up and brought to the morgue...remember it was the seventies.

He woke up a few hours later, disoriented on a gurney, covered in a sheet, he sat up, eventually realizing he was in a morgue, helped by the fact that there was a toe tag filled out with his stats, attached to his big toe. He still has the tag by the way. It was the inspiration he needed to get his act together. He got sober moved home to Prince Edward Island, met his wife in recovery, and they have two children of there own. So for those keeping count that's now 10 siblings.

He now, well the now that was then in my the president of the PEI AIDS foundation, being an ex addict he was really scared when he went to get married and had to have a blood test. That inspired him to get involved and share his experience and volunteer with the AIDS foundation.

That was the one and only time that I met him...I haven't spoke to him since. Not because I haven't tried, more so because he hasn't gotten around to telling him new wife and family. It's not like he doesn't have my number, it's still in operation, and at my folks place. I'm not, but I imagine they'd direct him to me.

Well that's it...not sure what lesson I learned there...still haven't figured it out yet I guess.

© Copyright 2019 Jeffrey R Moore. All rights reserved.

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