Who am I? Am I the father of glorious Jake? The badger of the perfectly happy Ford Family? Or the father who is just too late?
It's been twenty years of my own flesh and blood that I try to bond with, but never less time does not stop, not for me, not for anyone. I'm rambling, sorry. I don't mean to drag this on, no. This is meant to be a little note on me; the unnoticed father. Well, what is there to note? I am rich, I am retired, I am unmarried, I am Vincent Taylor.
Well, why not start this off? Here I am, presented in front of my blank canvas, my brush held in my fingers, but unmoving. Yes, I paint, I am an artist. Yet, I cannot create my oil based outlet due to the weighing heart in my chest. It is a terrible idea to stop and reflect on your past. Definitely when you spent your remaining life trying to forget it.
Here I go, taking myself to Italy; my birthplace. Who ever said Venice was a wonderful place never grew up in the City of Water with my mother. What do I remember? Her skinny figure perched in front of her vanity, just brushing those golden curls, those golden locks she gave me. How she would spend hours combing her hair, only pausing now and then to nurse her whisky bottle, or whatever she bothered to buy down the corner to fill her need. And, I, standing by in her door way watching her with complete detest.
I can't remember when I ever was proud of my mother, or her without her dark liquid besides her in a thick bottom glass. I cannot stand liquor, or cigarettes, even then at twelve I winced each time she rose either to her pouted, botox lips. How she remained beautiful, and precious looking was unknown to me. But, I turned away never the less, my attention brought to a large door, unlocked to me. If I failed to mention my father when growing up with my mother before is simply because he laid there; bed ridden, and dying. Yes, I think I was born with a illed father, silent except to document every bit of his glorious fortune to his will to every cent. It was a will he worked on since I came into his life.
Father might as well be dead, let my mother be a widow then a stranger giving me his heritage. Yet, I came to his side at the piles of satin to be his death bed, he didn't even turn his attention to me. Not that Father's illness overtook him, or he was mute, but merely seeming to ignore me. Father rather lay in his pillows then mutter a couple of words to me beyond the documents he rarely spoke about. Yes, the aids have gotten to him long before I turned eight, and even then he neglected me as his son. But can I say I was lonely?
No, while my parents bruised themselves with their affairs, I was at the harbors, watching ship after ship come and go. I loved water, still do, but it wasn't only the glimmering ocean that excited me, but the ships and they're crew that drove me. Each man and women descended to that ship, and the beauty of it enthralled me further. Well, I became the observation boy to every Captain's arrival. Captains too drew me, their order and knowledge always was likable, no matter who it was. At last, I was recognized by one Captain at an evening, I remember him climbing down the plank, holding an emptied pipe, he was older, but seemingly untouched by age, for exception to the heavy lines at the corner of each of his murky eyes.
Please know I only write such details so you may envision what I saw; that gorgeous Captain dressed in a black blazer and white turtle neck, looked at directly at me, merely to ask if I was his cabin boy. Yes, it was just a simple question- one that should have been answered no- but not one of these Captains I adored spoke to me, not one recognized me, or they're crew, and I wanted desperately to learn of them, and this black-haired gentlemen had that answer. So, I lied, "Yes, Captain." And this begins my adventure.
"Well, boy, why you go and escape me? Go get me some tobacco and get yer read back in here." I remember these words because how he spoke them so smoothly, and welcoming with his broken, suppose to be rough words. Whatever cabin boy he had before was out of luck, because sure enough this lie had me out in the sea in a matter of hours. I stood in his cabin, his eyes trained on me, he was seated in an old fashioned chair, and I slowly saw that the entire cabin was shaped into what seemed to be Victorian era, well at leas to my least trained eyes. The Captain settled back in his seat, and we shared a brief silence, in this time which I thought he had discovered my lie, and toss me overboard, but this worry died away.
"Well, tell me, boy. You got a name?"
"Randy, Captain." I don't know why I immediately came up with a fake name, somewhere in the back of my head registering that when I ran away, my parents might try to find their heir.
"Aye, then, Randy. How's yer first day aboard?" Well, it was random luck that I soon found out that I was posing as a first timer crew member. I remember how the days went by from then, how Captain trained me with the ship, Old Beauty.
With Captain's pirate-like tongue and old fashioned ship, it was hard to realize I was not sailing on an old pirate ship in the Caribbean. I only seeked to learn of my newly acquired Captain, that became my teacher. I will always remember these moments, it was unlocking my boyhood fantasies. Well, the moments with Captain seemed endless, and surely the memories of my time of unsatisfaction watching my golden-haired drunk mother, and my bed ridden father faded. Captain and I bonded, and sure enough I left my lonesome cabin, and joined with him in his quarters. Things like brushing his flowing locks for him each morning, and filling his pipe were done out of admiration for him, and the fact he poisoned his lungs, and drank the exact same brown venom as my mother did not matter, I served him his drinks as well.
This was no boyish crush that I thought it to be, no. He was my father, nothing more and everything to me. I learned what my Captain knew of the seas, and his job as a Captain (which was shipping cargo.) I believed my life was set our for me with Captain. My detailed life about Old Beauty is unnecessary, it is only Captain I mean to speak of, and the main events I mean to note. Well, this harmony lasted me two years before Captain was to bring us back to Venice for a rest and supplies, where I was snatched back to my parents. I remember clearly how I was walking besides Captain, and an old officer spotted Mother's boy.
Well, it was a short, but chaotic moment before I was forced away from Captain, and he was thrown onto the squad car's hood, but my Captain's eyes looking at me so calmly as if the handcuffs did not faze him. Captain did not go to jail, however. No, it was settled and I was dragged back to my worried parents. I recall being pushed directly back to my father's bedside, the man seated up right for the occasion it seemed. And, I, sun tanned and a wild mess of my mother's golden locks upon my head. My father seemed dead where he sat, the decease brought upon him seemed to eaten him away at my departure, but I was too built up on rage from being torn from my Captain to care.
"You disappoint me, Vincent. Running away like that." He rasped at me, the shaky, bone finger accusing me.
"How can I disappoint you when you don't know me?" This might have been teen rebelliousness, or pure detest towards the stranger who claimed to be my father, (not that he wasn't.)
"I am your father!"
"Biologically! I found my family, I found my true father!"
"I will not allow such intolerance!"
"Scratch me from your will, then! For I will not accept money from a stranger!"
With this, I turned away from his death bed, making my way to the front door, but faced with my angered, but teary eyed mother. I was ready for arguing words to press me to stay for a drunken mother, but one look at her cold expression; this was not the case. A stern slap across my face was my good bye. I returned to Captain at once, who had waited for me at the old harbor, a warm, but knowing smile lead me to ask only one question; "You know all along who I was, didn't you?" A nod was my reply.
A trip to America was needed months later. Captain and I disembarked to the warmth of Miami. I can't say what exactly was Captain's cargo, but we went on like that for what seemed forever, we would travel back and forth from all over the world to Miami for four years. It wasn't long until Captain retired, and him and I bought a more suitable luxury ship to be decked in Victorian era. We cruised the oceans, just us. It was one trip to Venice was my last when I heard of my mother dying. Yes, it seemed my father passed away within six months after our last meeting with Captain's reassurance, I was seated besides me withering mother, holding that hand that gave me that fare well.
It was two weeks of holding that hand, and being forced to take the remaining heritage that I still loathed, however it still landed in my bank account when the hand I held died. So, off I was, fare well to Venice in total, I've never returned to my homeland again. Captain and I returned to America soon enough, for a simple trip to New York for relaxation, but this opens an entirely new chapter for me. It was when I found my young love at twenty-one. Sienna was my wife in a somewhat rushed relationship. Now married, I set aside sailing with Captain- who I told Sienna he was my real father, she never knew of my parents- well, until now I dared not touch the heritage in the bank, but with Sienna I lavished her with a mansion, gifts, and anything her, or my heart desired.
Yet, I took up a job as an officer when one of my long ago friends pressed me to join the academy with him, and I did not want to live my life on just my father's money. I at least pretended to support us with my own work, not my late father's. Sooner or later, Sienna left me. Why? I rather not know. She was gone with Panzer, and him in her arms.
And, I, left alone with my infant son, Jake. If I was anything, it was not a father, I did not know how to care for a child, and though I fumed and cursed Sienna for leaving me with our son, I hired the nearest baby sitter, known to be Ann Smith. She, became my second wife. I don't know what possessed me to propose to such a women.. Was it her red hair, gentle voice, and charming nature? Or the fact I had someone to take up my son?
Yes, I did not love her, and after seven years of marriage for Jake's stake, I did in fact leave her, and did not see her again. And I cannot apologize to my son for that. And what became of me? Alone, returned to the harbors, I washed my guilt away with. Here, I found Captain again, and we were bonded once more. Two months later, Captain died of a massive heart attack, and I was besides him as he did, I kissed his tasteless lips good-bye.
I sought out my son again years later, and I played the messager of death for my innocent boy, and let him face his 'mother's' death. Yes, Ann died of complications after a violent crash due to a D.U.I. Yes, she died a criminal, I couldn't put it in better myself, using Jake's words. Now, I am retired. I am forty-five years old, and yet to find a bond with my son, who I try to reach, though I insult his suppose new family (Jake finding Sienna due to Ranger.) And I loathe Ranger for snatching him away from me, but did I not drop him, and Ranger was there to catch him? Yes, Ranger plays a hero in Jake's story, his 'everything'.
Am I too late? All the time he needed me, I was not there. I know the truth of it. Yet, I still love my flesh and blood no matter what comes between us. Now, I conclude my story; my little note of myself. Presented in front of my canvas, it is no longer empty. My hand held the brush, in front of me stood my son's face, his skin glowing reflecting the innocence I sought in him, his eyes looking directly at me.
Son to father,
Vincent Taylor
 Melchrome · Fri Apr 18, 2008 @ 12:09am · 0 Comments |
