Estranged Father for Estevez

I have a Father, or so I am led to believe. A few weeks ago, I received a phone call from an elderly man who was overcome with excitement and optimism. He told me that an exciting new period of my life was about to begin, that my career was about to receive a much needed shot of creativity and that I would be coming in to a lot of money in the near future. This was good news, and I was more than willing to accept it as gospel. Recently my design firm had been struggling, with news of an upcoming recession on the horizon, new builds and redesigns were scarce. Business had been quiet this year and I was starting to worry that I might need to actively seek out other forms of income.

Father Jorja, acrylics, c. 2012
Grandfather Jorja, acrylics, c. 2012

Mary was doing marvellously well with the finances, being a creative type I’ve never had a head for them. Even with the kids’ uniforms, mortgage, bills and other such things; she still managed to find the time and money to make wonderfully

creative and delicious meals for us. Despite the worries of running the business, I can always relax in the company of my family; and now it appears that we have a new member to join us!

My Mother told me, when I was very young, that my Father was a cowardly artist who had abandoned her in her time of need. Once a promising young graphic

Marco, Mary and Maude in the garden c. 2010
Marco, Mary and Maude in the garden c. 2010

artist, in a time before the social acceptance of abortions, she was essentially forced into raising me alone and ostracised from the community. She loved me nonetheless, but never failed to impress on me the selfish nature of my erstwhile Father, and how I should be a good Dad to my children. She’s no longer with us now, so there’s no way to really prove that he is who he says he is (other than a DNA test which he refuses to take, due to a fear of hospitals). Despite her misgivings, I know my Mother was a good person who would’ve wanted her Grandchildren to know their Grandfather. That is why I have invited him to park his strange mobile home in our drive.

Mary does not approve. She peers through the curtains at him now as I write this, but she’s a patient and kind

woman, and will grow to love him. As will my sons, as will I. Estevez has a Daddy now to make a happy family, and he’s never been more excited.