Hello all! I hope you are doing great! I try to keep thinking positive, even when life is not going well at all. My name is James, and in four months I will turn 18. I'm looking forward to this day with a lot of impatience because then, I will finally be able to cut off any connections with my mother, once and for all. And trust me, this is not a teenage rebellion. It's just that my Mom is a terrible person who ruined the life of a person who is dear to me and lied to me my whole entire life. My story began rather mysteriously — I received a strange e-mail. It wasn’t advertising or any kind of spam. It was a personal e-mail but very short: “Are you James K.?” The return address was not familiar to me, which was strange — my mailing address has no resemblance to my real name. I have it a little thought and decided that I would rather reply than send the message to spam. After a few hours, I received a new e-mail. “Thank God, it is true. James, I am your father. ” Dudes, I haven't told you yet, but I have never seen my father. Can you imagine my feelings? Of course, I wanted to make sure that this wasn’t some kind of an evil prank. So I asked this person if he could talk to me on the phone. But soon I received a new e-mail — my father ... or whoever it was, said that for the time being, this was the only way for us to communicate. We needed to hide it from my mother for as long as we could, otherwise, it could've turn into a disaster.
Frankly speaking, I never thought that I would get an opportunity to meet my father. Especially in such an ... unusual way. All my life I lived under the impression that my biological father was a disgusting person who never loved me and did not need me. Of course, this idea was implanted in me by my mother. She always spoke very little and very negatively about him. Her favorite story was about how I almost fell out of the second-floor window because of him. It almost happened when I was one and a half years old. I could already move around pretty well and easily get out of my bed and it was positioned very close to the windowsill, so one day I easily climbed over the railings, got on the windowsill, and the window was wide open... oh, even thinking that I could've died as a child makes me sick! My mother told me that this terrible accident could have happened because of my father’s negligence, and if she hadn’t come in my room and grabbed me at the last minute, I would have been dead. Because of this, my mother said, it was a blessing for both of us that my father went to prison for many years.
At one point, my parents and their mutual close friend had their own business together. It was successful enough — they didn’t have a lot of net income, but the cash flow was enormous. Well at least my mother told me so, I can’t really imagine an enormous amount of cash. Anyway, the business went bankrupt at the same speed as it had grown, and according to my mother – it was all because of my father’s actions. He carried out some criminal schemes that had something to do with tax evasion and money laundering through some transactions to third-party companies. I can’t really go into the details, because I don’t know much about these schemes, but one thing is certain – they were illegal. When all this fraud was revealed, my father tried to forge documents in order to frame my mother, but the evidence was against my father, so he went to jail. My mother quickly divorced him and started a new life with me. At that time, I was about two years old.
And now, after that many years, I suddenly hear that all this was a lie! Of course, I did not trust these letters! But my father — and as we talked more, I gradually started to believe that it was him — claimed that my mother tried to make things look different than they really were. That everything was not at all the way she told me, but that he couldn’t prove it to me yet. My father was still in prison, although his term was already close to the end. But you see, I just could not take his word for it! When I received the next letter, I replied that I wanted to discuss it with my mother. My father categorically forbade me to do this and told me to instead address my questions to Mr. Truner. He was my parents’ mutual friend and business partner. My father said that Mr. Truner would tell me everything.
On the evening of the day when I got Mr. Truner’s phone number, I locked myself in the bathroom, turned on the water so that my mother couldn’t hear anything - even if she wanted to, and made a phone call. Unfortunately, this phone number had long been registered to another person...
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