Chapter 4 Who's My Father

FIONA

So, are you two dating now?" Louise interrogated me over the phone. I was sitting in a cab on my way to my parents' home in New York. Rain poured down the windows as thunder rumbled in the skies.

I pushed my tongue into my cheek. "I wouldn't call it dating yet."

"Girl, he took you to an orchestra concert last weekend," Louise sang. "Not a lot of men do that; I can't even get my boyfriend to take me to a stupid movie."

Kane and I spent some evenings together, cuddling or just talking. We didn't have a lot of things in common. He claimed he was under a lot of pressure from his dad in order to take over the family business, while I barely struggled with a minimum wage.

"That's because Marcus is a jerk, and you know it." I replied. The cab pulled over in front of my parents' townhouse. I paid the driver and jumped out, lifting my backpack over my head. I jogged up the front steps. "I don't know how you stand him; you should break up with him."

Louise sighed on the other end. "I told you, Mark and I are like fire and ice. It's a cute trope."

I rang the doorbell. "Well, Mr. Firecracker called you a fat bitch when you wouldn't pay for his beer. I fail to see the romance there."

"Oh, I get it; you've got a rich boyfriend now, and the rest of us can't top that." Louise teased.

I rolled my eyes and said goodbye. As I hung up, the door swung open. Mom stood at the other side; her eyes shifted in surprise.

"What are you doing here, Fiona?" She gasped.

"Gee," I said drily, and kissed her cheek. "Great to see you too, Mom."

She watched me walk inside with a quick whisper. "You know your father doesn't like your surprise visits."

My dad was sitting in the living room watching a football game while drinking from a can of beer; empty cans littered the coffee table, and an open pizza box sat on it.

"Adelaide, who the hell's at the door?" Lionel barked, still watching the game.

"It's me, Daddy." I spoke while rubbing my palms together from the cold.

Lionel spun his head and shot me a quick glare. "You. We live in a civilized age; the least you could do is call."

He squeezed the beer can and threw it across the room. It landed on the floor with a clatter.

I gripped my fists together, keeping my anger hidden. "I'm fine, Daddy, thanks for checking up on my health; it's not like I'm traumatized or anything."

He scoffed. "Don't tell me you're moving back in."

I folded my arms. "No, I'm here to grab my recipe journal. I got a job."

Lionel blew a huff. "Oh really, is it another dead-end minimum wage job, waiting tables? Or relying on tips?"

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat as my eyes stung with tears. I should have known he wouldn't be impressed by anything. "Of course not."

"Whatever." Lionel returned to his game, while I stomped upstairs to my old room.

"Where are you working now, Fee?" Mom asked me as I pushed the door open. My old room was as I remembered; nothing had changed. My old movie and celebrity posters were gone.

"Someone offered me a job as a private chef." I answered. Kane had told me about a friend of his who was looking for new staff at his home. "I have to impress them with an original recipe as part of my interview."

"Wow," Mom spoke half-heartedly. "That's great."

I searched my drawers, and it wasn't there. "Hey, I can't find my journal; it's not in here. Did you throw it out? I told you not to touch my stuff."

I looked at her; Mom glared at me. "Well, don't look at me; you should have used some common sense and backed it up in a computer."

I groaned and moved to my closet, nervously. I'd kept a journal just in case I wanted to publish a cookbook. I needed inspiration. I couldn't blow my chances at a successful career.

"I'm going to check the basement." I said, and quickly hurried out of the room. I found a giant box, labeled 'Fee's Stuff.' I pulled out some dolls and magazines. I smiled as I discovered a dusty hardcover navy journal. "Thank God."

I flipped through the pages, finding old recipes I'd written, including some of my thoughts.

23rd December, 2012.

'Today Mom and Dad had a huge fight over having Mom's family for Christmas dinner; he punched the Christmas tree and stormed out of the house, and then Mom had to call everyone to cancel...'

I shut the book with a deep sigh. Her family had been broken right from the start.

A piece of paper slipped out from the journal and fell to the floor.

"What's this?" I murmured and picked it up.

A gasp broke out from my lips as I read the contents. Anger boiled inside of me as I jogged out of the basement and into the living room, where Lionel and Donna sat, still watching the TV.

"What the hell is this?" I demanded and waved the paper.

They both looked at me.

"Have you lost your mind?" Lionel asked.

My entire body shook. "Y...you better tell me the fucking truth before I strangle you both!"

"Keep your voice down, for God's sake." Adelaide stood and reached for the paper. Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped wide open.

Lionel snatched the paper. "What's this anyway?"

I waited for his reaction, but he simply squeezed the paper in his hand with a blank stare. "Is this still lying around?" Lionel asked.

The two of them remained silent.

"Well?!" I barked.

"Fiona," Adelaide took a step forward, and I leapt back.

"No, no, no!" I screamed at her; my voice echoed in the room. "Are you saying I'm adopted? You adopted me, didn't you? Is that why you've been treating me like garbage my entire life?"

Lionel broke into a bitter laugh. "Like garbage? After everything I gave you. You ungrateful little... Why don't you ask your whore of a mother how she brought home a bastard for me to raise?"

I panted in disbelief, my heart pounded, threatening to explode from my chest. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I looked at Adelaide, who had turned pale.

"Is it true?" I asked shakily.

"Sit down, we can talk about it." Adelaide ordered.

"No, you tell me the truth!" I shouted, and Adelaide jumped in fright. "Who. Is. My. Father?!"