No Father's Son
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The JZA
- Posts: 8696
- Joined: 07 Dec 2018, 13:10
No Father's Son
Pops tired of her nagging
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Caesar
- Chise GOAT
- Posts: 12959
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
No Father's Son
Arturo been funneling all the money to Leslie while working as a mule for the cartel because he got a thing for blondes.
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redsox907
Topic author - Posts: 3092
- Joined: 01 Jun 2025, 12:40
No Father's Son
he was still 10 when he got the Honda, since it was the Christmas after the Spaceship Incident when he was 10. I did type 13 twice, which is fixed
Trying my best to include date anchors on important moments so that ya'll understand where we're at chronologically. I could put the years in the Chapter titles as well if that would help
i.e. Chapter 2: Unraveling (2002-2004)
maybe we'll get some truth, but will we ever get the whole truth?
racial. Just cause he's a traveling Mexican, now he's in the cartel!?
Maybe he's just a POS with two families and struggling to keep them separated now
FORREAL
like bihh, ain't you living the life?! WHO PAID FOR YOUR NEW CAR!?! ME
ignoring the fact I sabotaged your attempts at independence
had to throw in the blonde reference-
redsox907
Topic author - Posts: 3092
- Joined: 01 Jun 2025, 12:40
No Father's Son
Chapter Three, Part One: The Departure
My father’s abrupt departure on Christmas night at first seemed to be a relief to Mom. For the first time in months, she’d started acting like her old self. She started going back to the gym, started dressing up again, and even went on a shopping spree for the both of us. When I asked if my father had called, or sent her some money, Mom simply told me that she’d pressured Leslie into giving her more access to the funds. And that was all she said about the subject. By March, even though we had yet to see or hear from my father, Mom looked more like herself than the shell she had been for the two years following the Spaceship Incident.
Then the paranoia started.
It began with a black SUV parked down the street that Mom seemingly obsessed over. Then a pair of men in suits at our favorite coffee shop, who were suspiciously not even drinking coffee in their corner booth. With my 13th birthday approaching, not only had we still not heard from my father since Christmas, but the black SUVs became a regular occurrence in our daily routine. So had mysterious men in suits, acting nonchalant, but clearly out of place around Las Cruces. Sometimes at the coffee shop, sometimes the grocery store. Once, in the stands of my middle school basketball game.
But that was nothing compared to what happened next. My 13th birthday had been a rare day with no SUVs, no strange men in suits, almost like they’d known the weight of the day sat heavy without my father and had given us a break. Mom picked me up after school and we made a stop to my favorite bakery, Sweets & Treats, to get my favorite cheesecake for my birthday.
Then we got home and saw the front door wide open, with one of the SUVs parked in the driveway. Mom made me wait in the car while she went in the house, trying to keep me calm by saying maybe my father had surprised us with his return.
Mom couldn’t have been in the house for more than five minutes before the same two men in black suits emerged, both carrying black duffle bags. They didn’t look my way, just got into their car with practiced precision, and left. I waited for Mom to come out, heart pounding, and after five more minutes, I could wait no longer.
I found her in Dad’s office, hunched in the corner crying. In the middle of the room was a small, empty safe that I’d never seen before, sitting in front of a cutout hole in the drywall. She wasn’t hurt, or at least didn’t look injured, but no matter what she wouldn’t answer me. She just sat there, crying, staring at the safe. Eventually, I gave up trying to get an answer out of her and slumped against the wall next to her; the cake in the car forgotten, the presents in the den left untouched.
After that, Mom stopped leaving the house entirely. The confidence and rejuvenation she’d experienced at the beginning of the year was gone; she was back to being the shell of a woman again. Even worse, she seemed timid and scared to do or say anything. She wouldn’t even make calls to Leslie, having me act as the liaison to set up weekly grocery deliveries. As a result, I stopped doing any extracurricular activities at school, not wanting to further inconvenience Mom. In fact, just like Mom, I became a recluse as well. Aside from school, I was at home with Mom, not wanting to leave her alone in her paranoid and seemingly delirious state.
I wouldn’t even let Jose and Bobby come over anymore, not wanting them to report back to their parents the deterioration of Mom’s mental state. After the men in suits left on my birthday, after she finally pulled herself together enough to leave my father’s office, I’d stated I was going to call the police, file a report. Do something about the men who had been harassing us for months. In a final show of emotion, my Mom freaked out, making me promise not to say anything, to anyone.
With plenty of time to think, I had made my own deduction about the chain of events. It all went back to the Spaceship Incident. I had planted a seed of doubt in my father’s head that we could not be content with his hectic schedule, despite all of the assurances he had given us, despite all of the lavish gifts. After I had shown a lack of contentment, it planted a seed of doubt in Mom’s head and she began questioning father as well.
But despite how bad things had gotten, I refused to believe my father had completely abandoned us. Maybe he was punishing us for our lack of confidence, but so long as Leslie kept supporting us on my father’s behalf; there was a chance, a sliver of hope that he would forgive us. Hope that we could go back to being the happy family I thought we were while growing up.
Then the final rug was pulled. One week after school got out, May 28th, 2005, Leslie’s phone went dead.
No voicemail, no forwarding address. Just a dead line.
I told Mom that something must have happened at her office, since we always called Leslie on a main line. She begrudgingly agreed to drive down to the small office Leslie had in a strip mall on Mesquite Street.
The building was vacant, a ‘For Lease’ sign hung in the window. It looked like it had been vacated for weeks, making me shockingly realize it had been three weeks since I’d heard from Leslie.
She’d set up a larger than normal grocery delivery at the beginning of May, explaining she was taking a family vacation. It hadn’t occurred to me before, but Leslie had never taken a vacation, as far as I knew. And she had never mentioned a family until that moment.
I don’t know what I expected out of my Mom in that moment, but her cool and calm demeanor reminded me suddenly of my father. She didn’t panic, didn’t get hysterical. Just turned around and drove us home.
I heard her attempt to call my father again, something she’d tried multiple times over the past few months to no avail. Heard her call Leslie. Heard her call 411 and ask for a listing on Leslie Fletcher. That was when her calm finally broke, as I heard her screaming into the phone that “Yes, she was sure Leslie existed.”
Finally, sometime past midnight, Mom came to my room. She didn’t offer an explanation, didn’t have any answers.
She simply told me to pack. When I asked where we were going, she started crying.
“I don’t know,” she said, “but we have to go.”
My father’s abrupt departure on Christmas night at first seemed to be a relief to Mom. For the first time in months, she’d started acting like her old self. She started going back to the gym, started dressing up again, and even went on a shopping spree for the both of us. When I asked if my father had called, or sent her some money, Mom simply told me that she’d pressured Leslie into giving her more access to the funds. And that was all she said about the subject. By March, even though we had yet to see or hear from my father, Mom looked more like herself than the shell she had been for the two years following the Spaceship Incident.
Then the paranoia started.
It began with a black SUV parked down the street that Mom seemingly obsessed over. Then a pair of men in suits at our favorite coffee shop, who were suspiciously not even drinking coffee in their corner booth. With my 13th birthday approaching, not only had we still not heard from my father since Christmas, but the black SUVs became a regular occurrence in our daily routine. So had mysterious men in suits, acting nonchalant, but clearly out of place around Las Cruces. Sometimes at the coffee shop, sometimes the grocery store. Once, in the stands of my middle school basketball game.
But that was nothing compared to what happened next. My 13th birthday had been a rare day with no SUVs, no strange men in suits, almost like they’d known the weight of the day sat heavy without my father and had given us a break. Mom picked me up after school and we made a stop to my favorite bakery, Sweets & Treats, to get my favorite cheesecake for my birthday.
Then we got home and saw the front door wide open, with one of the SUVs parked in the driveway. Mom made me wait in the car while she went in the house, trying to keep me calm by saying maybe my father had surprised us with his return.
Mom couldn’t have been in the house for more than five minutes before the same two men in black suits emerged, both carrying black duffle bags. They didn’t look my way, just got into their car with practiced precision, and left. I waited for Mom to come out, heart pounding, and after five more minutes, I could wait no longer.
I found her in Dad’s office, hunched in the corner crying. In the middle of the room was a small, empty safe that I’d never seen before, sitting in front of a cutout hole in the drywall. She wasn’t hurt, or at least didn’t look injured, but no matter what she wouldn’t answer me. She just sat there, crying, staring at the safe. Eventually, I gave up trying to get an answer out of her and slumped against the wall next to her; the cake in the car forgotten, the presents in the den left untouched.
After that, Mom stopped leaving the house entirely. The confidence and rejuvenation she’d experienced at the beginning of the year was gone; she was back to being the shell of a woman again. Even worse, she seemed timid and scared to do or say anything. She wouldn’t even make calls to Leslie, having me act as the liaison to set up weekly grocery deliveries. As a result, I stopped doing any extracurricular activities at school, not wanting to further inconvenience Mom. In fact, just like Mom, I became a recluse as well. Aside from school, I was at home with Mom, not wanting to leave her alone in her paranoid and seemingly delirious state.
I wouldn’t even let Jose and Bobby come over anymore, not wanting them to report back to their parents the deterioration of Mom’s mental state. After the men in suits left on my birthday, after she finally pulled herself together enough to leave my father’s office, I’d stated I was going to call the police, file a report. Do something about the men who had been harassing us for months. In a final show of emotion, my Mom freaked out, making me promise not to say anything, to anyone.
With plenty of time to think, I had made my own deduction about the chain of events. It all went back to the Spaceship Incident. I had planted a seed of doubt in my father’s head that we could not be content with his hectic schedule, despite all of the assurances he had given us, despite all of the lavish gifts. After I had shown a lack of contentment, it planted a seed of doubt in Mom’s head and she began questioning father as well.
But despite how bad things had gotten, I refused to believe my father had completely abandoned us. Maybe he was punishing us for our lack of confidence, but so long as Leslie kept supporting us on my father’s behalf; there was a chance, a sliver of hope that he would forgive us. Hope that we could go back to being the happy family I thought we were while growing up.
Then the final rug was pulled. One week after school got out, May 28th, 2005, Leslie’s phone went dead.
No voicemail, no forwarding address. Just a dead line.
I told Mom that something must have happened at her office, since we always called Leslie on a main line. She begrudgingly agreed to drive down to the small office Leslie had in a strip mall on Mesquite Street.
The building was vacant, a ‘For Lease’ sign hung in the window. It looked like it had been vacated for weeks, making me shockingly realize it had been three weeks since I’d heard from Leslie.
She’d set up a larger than normal grocery delivery at the beginning of May, explaining she was taking a family vacation. It hadn’t occurred to me before, but Leslie had never taken a vacation, as far as I knew. And she had never mentioned a family until that moment.
I don’t know what I expected out of my Mom in that moment, but her cool and calm demeanor reminded me suddenly of my father. She didn’t panic, didn’t get hysterical. Just turned around and drove us home.
I heard her attempt to call my father again, something she’d tried multiple times over the past few months to no avail. Heard her call Leslie. Heard her call 411 and ask for a listing on Leslie Fletcher. That was when her calm finally broke, as I heard her screaming into the phone that “Yes, she was sure Leslie existed.”
Finally, sometime past midnight, Mom came to my room. She didn’t offer an explanation, didn’t have any answers.
She simply told me to pack. When I asked where we were going, she started crying.
“I don’t know,” she said, “but we have to go.”
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djp73
- Posts: 10710
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
No Father's Son
Homeboy better start slinging that ball if he wanna support moms