Out the door we go, I see a yellow Stingray in the driveway.
"Wow! Is that your car?" pointing at it.

"Yep!" smiling, shaking his head, and winking all at the same time.
"Cool!" I was really impressed.

We went to a Mexican restaurant nearby.
My mom and Vince made child support arrangements throughout the entire lunch.
I quietly listened as they talked about my well-being and financial needs.

Blah blah blah, like the horn they used for the adult voices on the Peanuts cartoon is what it sounded like to me. I felt a little bit irritated listening to every detail of my needs mapped out like a shopping list. I felt they could have made these decisions without me present.

After the meal, we left and Vince took us back home.
He excused himself and left quickly after walking me to the front door.
I had a smile on my face, and under that smile I had a frown.

I didn't feel a complete connection with Vince. I kept calling him Vince and not Father. I don't think he liked it much. His eyes would squeeze tighter when I called him Vince. He asked me several times to call him Dad. I tried to address him as father and failed every time. I might have been acting stubborn. I didn't know how I should feel. After all, I never had the love of a father. My father never put me on his shoulders and walked around the neighborhood to show me off. My dad has never told me or showed me any love. I didn't know how to love a Father. I was hoping he would try to show me how to love. A parent is supposed to do that. Rejection and abandonment was all I ever knew to be true. Love was a Foreign Movie.

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