#ambertask1

you’re six, now, and you light up my world the way no one else can. becca’s suspcious, she questions the way i look at you with twinges of regret hiding in the wrinkles of my face, the way i hold you up on my shoulders and squeeze your hand in that protective way that only a parent really understands, or can provide. she knows that she remembers when luke was born, visiting mom in the hospital, his tiny red hand wrapped around her thumb when she first said hello. but you, she told me one time, before i reassured her that she was just overthinking things --- you just came into our lives on day. she doesn’t remember mom being pregnant, which, smart girl. the rest of the family doesn’t seem to realize the inconsistencies. 

i wonder if you’ve ever come close to putting it together. i can’t imagine why you would. instinct, perhaps. 

i’m your father, tim. 

i don’t regret you. i’m not ashamed of you. i was a dumb kid and i’m an even dumber man. there’s no way i can conjure up an explanation that’s both satisfying to you and able to justify my unjustifiable actions. i was eighteen years old with big plans and fear pulling on my heartstrings. your mom was headed halfway across the world for school, her plans outweighed mine and as much as i know she wished she could stay for you, for me, she couldn’t. we came up with this plan when she had pregnancy mind and i was baked. maybe. probably not --- those are just excuses. the stupid kid i was didn’t know you yet, i wanted to be able to leave and go see the world if i needed to. and when i decided to stay, i didn’t want you to be ashamed of me. 

from the moment you came into this world i fell in love with you. you’re a crazy kid sometimes, occasionally even a bit of a troublemaker. but you keep me grounded. you remind me why i’m here. you create worlds in your mind and throw paper airplanes across your classroom. you finger paint in my bedroom and you love peanut butter and jelly. you’re a person, now, you’re my son. 

i don’t know how many more ‘parent teacher conferences’ i can sit through while the teachers stare at me with a strange mix of admiration and pity in their eyes, thinking that they’re looking at a man who’s just trying to help his mother out because she’s too busy. 

i don’t know how many times i can tell you to go to your room when you’re being rude to your siblings and hear you say “you’re not my dad harrison, you’re just my big brother.” 

i can’t watch your t-ball games knowing that when i sweep you up off your feet after you make a big play and ask if you want ice cream, you’ll say yes because you love spending time with your older brother. your big dopey older brother, the one who shares a bond with you that’s closer than the bond he has with the rest of the kids you call your siblings. he loves you, you love him and he’s one of your favorite people in the world. it kills me that you don’t think of him, me, as your dad. as the first one to crawl into bed with when you feel sick because he’s your dad and he’ll know what to do to make you feel better. 

i want you to know the truth. but i’m afraid you will never forgive me. 

i love you with all of my heart 

i’m kinda wondering the same thing. i mean, i never thought i was the overly emotional nostalgic type, but apparently boxing up stuff from your childhood room can do things to even me. it was piles of crap, don’t get me wrong, but then i found a box of all of the old letters we used to send each other and, well, i don’t know. i guess i just never realized what a big part of my childhood you were.

but now that i look back on it and i’m realizing that practically every childhood memory i have, you were somehow involved. i mean, i barely knew how to ride a bike when we first met. and in less than a week of scrapes and bruises, we were riding everywhere around what felt like the world, but was really just up and down the street. i remember the time that you were convinced we could make a ramp to jump off of. and, surprisingly, it actually worked. well, worked for you, ‘cause as soon as i tried that i went flying off of my bike and nearly broke my arm. my mom flipped out when she saw all of the cuts and scratches i had on my body. but, i still thought it was worth it.

reading through the letters i realized: first, we were probably some of the weirdest, adventurous children at least i have ever met, and second, we couldn’t spell for shit. i mean, not surprising because i still can’t spell, but honestly i spent a good amount of time trying to decode what we were saying. we were attached at the hip. i mean we spent all day with each other after school and even then, we still had to write each other fuckin’ letters and leave them in the tree house for each other to find. 

i must’ve spent more than half of my childhood in that tree house. i kinda forget that it’s not actually mine and i just weaseled my way into your backyard every day. everything happened up there. we would pretend that we were pirates on the tiniest of all ships trying to make it across the ocean, soldiers hiding from the enemy during war (with all of the fake blood to make it real). we even tried to run away and live up there, which probably lasted less than an hour, but it was still a good hour up there.

we even had our first kisses up there  because, well, we were each others. i mean, imagine if your mom had walked down on that? two gawky teenagers telling her that we were just “practicing” so it didn’t really count as anything. we were still just friends, now friends that would just practice on each other so we’d be ready for the “real deal”.

anyways, i’m getting distracted. what i was trying to get at was that you were always there for me. i mean, wether it be me crying over another test i failed or my mom going psycho and trying to board me up inside the house so i could focus on what was “more important”. even after my knee surgery, i mean, i know i must’ve been the  biggest bitch after that, but you still stuck by my side every day. even when my parents started yelling and the few other people that came dipped out, you would give me a smile and put on some loud music so i didn’t have to listen to it. honestly, i don’t think i would’ve made it through that without you.

i don’t think i could’ve made it through most of my childhood without you. i mean, where would i be without you? probably very deranged and still not knowing how to ride a bike. you were always there for me. and i just hope that you can think the same way about me. anyways, i guess i’m just glad that you were the ones to buy the house next door.

love you loser,

This is going to sound so fucking dramatic, and corny as hell, but last night was the first night I felt completely alone. 

Saying “last night” makes it sound so far away, which is a fucking joke, because one night isn’t a huge span of time by any means. Still, though, It makes it sound like I actually slept through the night and am now peacefully recounting all that went through my mind, when in reality it’s 4 AM and I’ve been tossing and turning and haven’t slept more than thirty minutes at a time and I’m furiously writing this all down in the hopes that my brain will shut up and I won’t feel so fucking alone. Because I do feel alone. Horribly alone, desperately alone. Not only because you’re in fucking Boston, of all places – come on man, you couldn’t be cliche and go to New York City or some shit to make all your dreams come true? You’re more realistic than that, you always have been. You’ve traveled without me before, but this feels different. See, if you’d said you were going to New York, I could’ve made fun of you for chasing after a cliche. I could’ve brushed this off with the knowledge that the city would chew you up and spit you out the way it does to 99% of people with big dreams. But you picked Boston – you had to go and pick something sensible, for fuck’s sake. That’s why I’m feeling so alone, Tuck, I’m lying here on my bed in Amber Springs and I’m realizing that you’re shaping a real future for yourself. One that’s not here – one that’s far away from me.

I’m lying here, and I’ve done a whole lot of thinking on this bed before. Some life altering decisions have been made here, but what’s going through my mind now is something completely new; something I have yet to share even with you. I’m here alone, and I’m wondering how to find myself a home.

Don’t laugh at me, I’m serious.

Home has always felt like wherever you were, for the longest time. Even when my parents were alive, even when Emily and Bodhi actually felt like family and not just random people I share blood with – nothing ever gave me that safe, wrapped in a blanket feeling like being with you did. It’s nerve wracking as fuck, man, feeling like you have no one anymore. I have half a mind to pack up and move to Boston with you – which is pathetic and embarrassing, that I can’t even make it through one night without wanting to run as fast as I can to wherever you are. I know you’re too big for Amber Springs, Tuck, I’ve always known that. No one in this town is destined for half the shit you are, but even though I know all that – it’s different from you knowing it. I’m scared, man, I’m scared you’ll start to realize other things – like that you’re too big for me.

Fuck that’s a scary thought.

Asking you to promise that you’ll never get too big for me is such a fucking selfish thing to do, but it’s all I can think of right now. I need that promise, because right now, it seems like you’re going to outgrow me fast. You’re going to come back, and realize how small everything is – how small I am.

Hey Kiddo..

I don’t know how to start this, and I’m not sure what to write, but I’m a little drunk and I just called you twice for the first time in months and I need to get some shit off my chest.

I miss you so much.. Sometimes it comes out of nowhere and kicks the breath out of my lungs, and all of the things I want to tell you start clawing up my throat begging for me to drop my pride and call you just one more time.. And sometimes I do, but there’s never anyone on the other end of the line. 

I hope you know that I understand.. I don’t blame you for the years of silence, because I’m not making this easy. I hate that about myself, and I know that this isn’t what you deserve from me, but I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to give you up. I feel like I’m living in this parallel universe every 2am when my brain won’t stop, because how could we not still be us? Tuck and Sadie, Sadie and Tuck; The package deal, the inseparable kids waging every war of life side by side. How could I have messed up so badly that we don’t even speak anymore? I know that I hurt you, Sadie.. And I know I’ve tried to say I’m sorry a million times, but I don’t know that anything will do it justice.

I’m sorry for Lyla and for all of the miscommunication and for hurting you.. It’s the last thing I would ever want to do, yet somehow I managed.. Which isn’t altogether surprising considering my track record. But it’s you, and it’s me, and we don’t hurt each other.. It’s never what we did, and I would have never done it on purpose.. and I know you know that, but does that even matter in the wake of it all? If I would’ve known that you still wanted this.. That you didn’t mean it when you said you were okay with us exploring our options, I wouldn’t have done anything with her, no matter that it ended so quickly with Lyla.. Not that it’s an excuse. Thanksgiving break never for a second gave off the ‘we can see other people and be totally fine’ vibe, and I knew that.. I knew, and I’m sorry. I was so selfish. I missed you so much and just wanted to be near you, and I was so selfish.

I’d never tell you this, but there are some nights that I wake up in a panic and reach for you next to me. I remember the pull of your breath against my chest and your legs tangled with mine, throwing off covers in the middle of the night because we’re burning up but so unwilling to let go of one another. It makes my chest ache, Sadie. I go through old film of you in my passenger seat.. Sitting there not even saying a word sometimes, wind in your hair.. And I feel miserable. Some of the best days of my life were spent with you. 

You’re such a huge part of who I am at my core, because we figured out who we were side by side, you know? I wouldn’t be me without you, mess and all. And now it’s like we’re strangers.. I don’t know how to fix it if you won’t let me, Sadie.. But I also don’t know how I’d fix it if you did. Sometimes I feel like it’s too far gone because it was so consuming for the both of us. In the grand scheme of things, two years isn’t a long time, but at that age? When we were figuring everything out and loving so fearlessly and hopefully.. It felt like everything. It felt like a forever. You were my favorite person in existence.. And it scares the shit out of me, because I don’t know if I could ever have that with anyone else in this world.. And I feel this shit at 22? After years of not having you, trying to make connections and failing miserably..

I don’t know if I’ll ever stop loving you. I don’t know if I know how to.

I want to call you and tell you all of this. I want to call you and tell you that this front I’ve put up for so long is total bullshit. I want to call you and tell you that I have no idea what I’m doing with my life, and that includes you. I’m graduating in five months with a degree that I have little passion for, pushed by my father for a number of different future paths that all lead the same direction.. And all I want to do is call and ask you what to do to make the world stop spinning for a minute. Because you’d know just what to say.

I feel lost, and I feel helpless that I can’t let you go.. And I don’t know if I’ll ever know how to say goodbye to you, but I hope that one day I can.. For both of us.

I’m sorry for the voicemails and the constant reminder of the shit I’ve put you through. You deserve better, and I promise I’ll start trying to be better about it.

I love you, Kiddo. You know that in the deepest part of you, and I hope that you never forget it.

i guess i knew that i couldn’t avoid you forever. it was one thing when you were only around during the holidays, but now you’re here to stay. well, at least for a while. and i guess i’ve just been bidding my time before you asked to have a talk. i can hear it in your voice sometimes... you get that look on your face like you always do when you think about something serious and your voice softens. i’ll try to tell a joke or change the subject to distract your mind, but that can’t work forever, can it?

i know that you had tried to explain yourself all that time ago, i have all the text messages and voicemails to prove it. but you have to understand, i didn’t want to hear it. it was easier just to hate you. or, well, try to hate you. because i knew the second you began to explain, i would be puddy in your hands again. and then it would go back just to how things were before; we’d still be talking just like we were when we were dating, except now you had a different girl. i mean, you couldn’t actually expect for me to just get tugged along like that, could you?

things seemed practically normal when you came home for thanksgiving. we barely left each other sides the whole week you were home. even my mother could tell how happy i was that you were home and she even stopped bugging me so i could just spend all day with you. it felt like we were still together despite the fact that we had called it off before you went to school. i thought that maybe we’d even get back together after that. i mean, distance is hard but we still seemed like a couple to me. maybe it wasn’t the same for you, but.... that’s how it felt for me.

i filled you in on everything going on around town and you told me even more stories about college. i was happy that you made friends so easily, you were enjoying boston, and college was great. at least, a part of me was happy. and all the other part of me could hear was how life without me was just amazing, even better without me around to bother you. and i hated that even the littlest part of me felt jealous and betrayed that you were doing so great while i was miserable and stuck at home. and then.... once you said you started seeing someone, i thought it would be easier to let all of you go. tell myself that you screwed me over and it was okay to feel spiteful and jealous. 

but it wasn’t. everything still sucked and you were constantly calling me and i didn’t know what to do anymore. every time i saw your name, i could only think about lyla, y’know? i know everyone warns you that high school relationships never last once you get to college and it was dumb of me to think otherwise, but i was dumb, so i guess it made sense....

things eventually started getting better. but i guess that’s what’s supposed to happen with all breakups, instead of continuing to talk like nothing happened like we did. so, it was fine. i mean, yea, maybe when i heard you were coming in town i’d make an extra effort to make sure we didn’t cross paths. but things were relatively fine.

but then the whole knee incident happened and everything turned to shit. it was awful, tuck, you have no idea. i don’t think i’ve ever heard my parents argue as much as they did then, and i’ve heard them many times before. i couldn’t even sneak out to leave like i usually do, i was just stuck in my bed. everyone would drop by and see how i was doing. and it helped, but sitting there with nothing to do except read all of the old messages you sent me and listen to the voicemails you sent me.... i mean, we used to be able to talk about anything, y’know? it was just second nature, no matter how big or small something was i just wanted to tell you right then. so, i guess it makes sense that i thought i needed to talk to you. 

there was one night, an awful night really, my parents wouldn’t stop arguing, it was like they didn’t care if i could hear it or not. all of my friends had already come and gone for the day and it was the middle of a monday night, so it’s not exactly like i could just ask someone to stop by. i must’ve rewritten you a thousand different text messages, considered calling you too. but when it came down to it, i couldn’t press the button. i didn’t want to have to drag you back into my problems. i mean, you were happy and, besides, you had met someone else.

so, that’s all really. i know it might’ve seemed like i blocked your number without a second thought, but it wasn’t, really. anyways, i’m sure it’s gonna seem odd that i’m sending you a letter with all of this instead of just telling you it. but, it was easier this way. and, truthfully, i don’t know if i even want to hear your side. so, it’s just easier like this.

sorry for all the shit i put you through,

Hi ! Is it weird to start a letter like that? Is it weird to ask hypothetical questions? Or are you answering them out loud right now and making them not-hypothetical anymore? Okay, wait, I’m confusing myself and getting sidetracked here. Let me start over. Taejoon. I just ... I wanted to thank you for putting a smile on my face every time I see you. I can’t thank you enough for just ... I don’t know, existing? Wow, that sounds so cheesy, but I’m being serious. It’s infuriating how you never let me pay for mine and Sylvie’s ice cream whenever we make our trips to Swirly’s, but I kind of like the way your eyes twinkle when we argue about payment every. single. time. And Sylvie adores you too, although I’m sure she tells you all the time. You’re one of her favorite babysitters. (Actually, I think you’re her favorite, but don’t tell Sophia.) I think you’re such a wonderful and kind person and the way you are with Sylvie, it really shows. I kinda have to confess that I’m getting quite fond of you. 

I want to protect you. From other people. From your own stubbornness that won’t allow you to accept some damn help when you need it. Is that weird? I have a habit of telling people that I’m doing all right, that I don’t need help, that I’ve got things under control. Sometimes, I don’t. I know, I’m a hypocrite for giving you a hard time about it, but I don’t want you making my same mistakes. You deserve good things. Great things. Because you’re such a great person. It’s actually a little infuriating how whenever I see you smiling that big ol’ gummy smile of yours, my stomach does that stupid fluttering thing and I just want to do anything to keep you smiling like that? God, I’m such a cheese ball. I promise I’m not like this all the time. This is so embarrassing. You make me act so embarrassing sometimes.

But I kind of like it? There’s something comforting about sitting on the couch with you while Sylvie’s sleeping on the floor and your head’s in my lap and we’re just talking. About nothing important really. Just listening to each other’s voices and letting the stress of the day just melt away. I don’t let in a lot of people -- not into those moments. I like that they’re something I can share with you though. I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. This all just started because I wanted to thank you. Your friendship means the world to me. I don’t know what I’d do without it -- besides probably go slightly insane. You know how to keep my head from exploding from all the unnecessary worries I work up in my head. So, thank you. You’re amazing. Really amazing. I like that you’re in my life. I like your laugh. I like your smile. I like how good you are with Sylvie. I even like how stubborn you are. It makes my days a little bit brighter. So, thank you.

I don’t really know how I’m supposed to start this letter. I don’t even know if I’m going to send this or not. I just ... I don’t understand and I’m hoping that if I write this letter to you guys, I’ll figure it out. I’m sitting in a crappy one bedroom studio apartment with a mattress on the floor, a couch in the corner and a crib for my baby. I just ... I can’t believe you guys kicked me out. I know this isn’t what you guys wanted for me, but I’m your son. I remember when I skinned my knee when I was learning to ride my bike and how quickly Mom came rushing to pick me up and assure me it was going to be okay. Or how when I got my first F, Dad -- you were so angry -- but you sat down with me and told me that the only way that I would have truly failed was if I hadn’t tried. You guys ... you’re amazing parents. You taught me how to be a good person and always try my best. I think that’s what makes this so hard to believe that you guys would abandon me when I need you the most? 

Sorry, I’m using a different pen now. Sylvie started crying and the Mickey Mouse pen I was using was the only thing that calmed her down. That’s what I chose to name her by the way. She’s cooing right now and waving it around. She’s so precious. She’s so defenseless, Mom ... She needs me for everything. How could I ever drop her off at some stranger’s door and pretend like I don’t know I have a daughter out there in the world? I can’t wrap my head around that idea. I don’t know how you guys can expect me to do that. She’s mine. And now I know that she exists and her mother wants nothing to do with her but I can’t abandon her. I look at her and I just get angry -- angry at you guys, angry at her mother. I might have made a stupid mistake and had unprotected sex, but I’m not running away from the result. Sylvie didn’t ask to be brought into this world, but we did it anyway and now she needs me. I really hope you change your minds soon and let me bring her to see you guys.

I’m not going to lie. I’m so scared. I’m so scared that I’m going to mess this up somehow. I’m scared because I’m doing this alone. You’re not here, Mom. And I can’t go to dad and ask how he felt when you told him you were pregnant with me. I can’t ask for advice and so I’m suffocating here and trying to hold it all together because Sylvie can’t afford for me to lose it. I love her so much already and I’ve only had her for two weeks. I know you’re disappointed that I won’t be going to college anymore, but know that it’s not going to be like this always. I have plans for myself and I have plans for my daughter. Right now, Sylvie needs me to work so that I can afford her food and clothes and diapers. Miss Frankie is letting me work full time and letting me bring Sylvie to work so I don’t even need to find a babysitter. 

I miss you guys. I really .... I really wish I could go home sometimes ... even if it were just for a few hours. I wish you could hold me in your arms and let me know that it was going to be all right. I don’t know much of anything right now. I don’t know how I’m going to afford rent. I don’t know how many hours I’m going to have to work to support my kid and I don’t even know how to raise a baby in the first place. There is one thing I do know and I have you to thank for it. I know that I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure Sylvie is okay. I’m going to get everything and anything that she needs to succeed. I’m always going to put her first -- even if I don’t always agree with what she wants. I’m never going to abandon her. I’m not going to leave her like you guys have left me. You guys are great parents -- or were great parents -- when it was easy and convenient. When I was getting good grades, performing dance recitals and going to college. When I messed up, you suddenly don’t have a son anymore. I’m going to make sure Sylvie never doubts that I am on her side ALWAYS. 

Even though I’m angry right now and I don’t think I can forgive you guys for this -- not now that I have a daughter, not now that I know how unconditional this love I have for her is -- but if you ever change your mind. If you ever want to be in mine and Sylvie’s life again, I don’t think I could refuse you that. I love you guys. You’re my parents and I really hope that I have the guts to send you this letter because I don’t want Sylvie growing up without really knowing her grandparents and knowing everything you have to teach her. It’s going to be all right and I’m going to prove it to you and I hope that you can accept me back once  I do.

Love, 

in case you were a little confused, the answer is no. because you were never a mother. you were a coach. one of the coaches that scares the kids shitless until they go running home crying to their mom and begs them to let them to quit. but what happens when the one you’re supposed to run home to is the one you’re trying to run away from? you get an emotionally unstable daughter, just for starters.

all i ever wanted, all i ever needed was for a little bit of support, maybe even some encouragement, although that’s probably pushing it. it’s not that much to ask for, just a ‘good job’ every once in awhile. even coach amy, my actual coach, was better at that than you. what kind of a monster would tell a crying six year old that she was the one who messed up her routine so she should stop being a brat and needs to crying. i mean, i’ve heard of tough love. but there’s a difference between pushing your kids to do something great and pushing them away from you. even other parents would come up and tell me i did a good job to try to calm me down, why couldn’t you?

probably because you considered any other little kid that i had skated with ‘competition’. as if we weren’t children who were just skating because it was something we enjoyed, or at least, used to enjoy. but you never saw me as a child, you just saw me as a gateway to success to try to forget all of your failures. some kind of sculpture that you could shape however you wanted just to make you happy. if it were up to you, i wouldn’t have had a childhood. dad was the one i had to go to if i wanted to go out after school, watch tv, have dessert, anything. if it were up to you, all of that would’ve been banned from our house years ago. 

speaking of, did you even care what he ever had to say? no matter what he said, you found a way to disregard all of it and continue on with your master plan. and you always found a way to put me right in the middle of the fights. he rarely asked for anything and you would take everything from him without a second thought. and you would always find a way to put me right in the middle. telling him you only spent the money because it was something i wanted to do and it was something i needed when the only thing i actually wanted was to act like a normal family for once. 

and then, when i was stuck in the hospital for surgery, the only thing you seemed to care about is wether or not i’d be able to compete again. not if i was okay, not asking how i was feeling or if i needed anything. you put a dumb ass competition over your daughter for almost every day of my life. and once it was over, you were too busy mourning what could’ve been instead of checking up on me. i thought, in a brief moment of stupidity, that maybe now that all of that was behind us, we could actually have a chance at a normal relationship.

then i remembered, fuck you. the only good thing you had done for me for eighteen years was make me learn how to be strong. that, i didn’t need you to tell me i did a good job, i could tell myself that. yet, after all of these years, i still look for your approval and i’m still waiting for the one time you’ll tell me how good of a job i’ve done. pretty fucked up, isn’t it?

your daughter,