The Budget of Paradox

Sophia,

Joyous Kwanzaa, my spawn.

I wanted to call you yesterday. But I don’t know any of your phone numbers or media accounts. I don’t even know where you are right now. I asked your mom. Then I asked Kimberly and Nana Lee. Everyone ignored me.

I still don’t know why everyone is terrified that you might have a loving father in your life. Seems stupid to me. Every time you surrender to fear, you give up a little bit of your soul.

I hope your Christmas was enjoyable. At the very least, I hope peace was upon you, even for a moment. Life is so full of distractions. It’s important to have a moment of peace once in a while.

I am very sorry that I missed another Christmas with you. As far as I can recall, we’ve only had one Christmas together, in 2009, when you were only a year old. I have photos to prove it. I’d post them here but it’s probably a waste of time. You’ll probably never ask to see them. But, please prove me wrong.

I have no idea if you’re receiving the gifts I send you. I still don’t know if you got your birthday present this year. It seems pointless to keep sending you things if they’re being retired directly into the trash, which I suspect is their fate.

Nevertheless, I love you and miss you.
Dad

Sophia,
I’m a little worried about you. I finally got access to your school records. Last week, every day, I got an e-mail saying you were absent from school. Of course, I don’t know why. Maybe you’re sick. Maybe your mom sent you to Hawaii. I wish I knew. I hope you’re okay.

I want to call you on Christmas, but I don’t know where you are or which number to use. I e-mailed your mom, but so far, she won’t answer.

I know she thinks (and maybe she’s convinced you, too) that I’m some horrible monster who shouldn’t have access to his own children. But if you take the time to listen to her reasoning, you’ll see she has no evidence of anything. All of the lingering stink comes from her and her lawyer. No teacher ever said I was a bad parent, no therapist, no doctor, no counselor, no judge, no court… no one. No one ever said I was a bad father. In fact, your Aunt Kimberly testified at my divorce hearing and had nothing bad to say about me. Before he died, Papa Bear liked me. At least, he did when I knew him. Nana Lee liked me, or seemed to. She always invited me into her house and never said I was a bad father.

This idea that I’m a horrible father came from your mom and her lawyer…. but only after we disagreed about money in the divorce. Only then did the stories start emerging: stories that make no sense. When I had my security clearance upgraded, your mom was happy to tell the government that I was trustworthy and reliable. But after arguing about money, she claimed I was violent and crazy. Okay, I’m violent and crazy, but during our divorce, she let me take you and Morey overnight, unsupervised. Your mom even invited me to your house to have dinner with all of you during the divorce. But still, she expected the judge and everyone else to believe her story that I was violent and crazy and a dangerous father.

This whole situation is so cruel and pointless. You’re my daughter. We should be together, especially on holidays. We should be in each other’s lives. Instead, your mom is holding on to some retarded lie her lawyer invented. A lawyer, who, by the way, is now long gone. The lawyer threw a hand grenade into our lives, carelessly let it explode, then walked away. She doesn’t care about the destruction she caused.

Do you have any memory at all of me hurting you? Hitting you? Slapping you? Abandoning you? Shaking you? Yelling at you? Of course not. It never happened. I never even spanked you. Morey has no such memories, either. On the contrary, I went to great lengths to make your life better. And to make you laugh. And let you feel love and grow and be smart.

I miss you terribly. I hope I can reach you on Christmas Day.

I love you,
Dad

attorney Betsy Phillips of Rustburg you horrible cunt. i hope you die painfully and slowly. suck my cock you ugly bitch. if there is a God in Heaven, surely you will burn in Hell. You hurt children. That’s Nazi-level shit. You are the reason there are metal detectors at the courthouse entrance. Hopefully someday you’ll piss off a father with less restraint than me and you’ll get what you deserve. My Senior Partner BHP myseniorpartnerbhp.com

Sophia,

I tried again to contact you. I don’t know if any of my messages are coming through. I truly have no way to reach you. I wish you at least knew that I was trying. I love you and miss you. Maybe someday we can salvage something from our relationship. I’m sure you must only think of our relationship as a total failure. I wouldn’t blame you. But I hope you understand that it wasn’t my choice. Not at all.

Maybe you’ll never read these words.

I had one small victory. Dr. Rule, the principal of E.C. Glass, finally gave me access to your school records. I only had to threaten him with a lawsuit. Again.

Your records contain your photo. I was surprised. The only photos I have of you are several years old. I still see you with blonde hair, like you had when you were a child.

It kills me a little to see you struggling with math. Your mom will confirm that I’m a math weenie at heart. I’d love to tutor you. In fact, I’d love to get you a whole year ahead. If I were there, I’d be sure you knew the material inside and out.

And what’s up with your attendance? Morey had the same problem in high school: Always late. Is your mother not capable of getting you off to school in the morning? I know she’s a single mom. But she prefers it that way. In fact, she insisted on being a single mom. I was expressly invited to fuck off. So, for someone who wanted all the responsibility, she doesn’t seem to be doing a very good job.

I used to take Morey to Kindergarten every day. And that’s when we lived in Waimea and she attended Island School in Lihue. It’s a 45-minute drive, but somehow, we made it on-time every day.

Anyway, I’m just frustrated that we’re apart, and you basically have no idea who I am anymore. I hope you believe me: this is not the life I expected to have as your father.

I hope to hear from you.

Love, Dad

Sophia,
How are your teeth? When’s the last time you went to a dentist? When I was a kid, Nana Julie made sure I saw a dentist every six months. I remember getting out of school for a few hours to go to appointments. She always made it a priority.

Getting the kids to a dentist was a sore spot during my marriage to your mom for some inexplicable reason. She had no interest in taking Morey to a dentist. She said Morey’s baby teeth would just fall out anyway someday. So, I made an appointment and took Morey myself. I still remember being with her during her first exam. She was probably three or four years old at the time.

Slightly off-topic, but the town where I grew up put sodium fluoride in the drinking water. It helps prevent tooth decay. Not every town does that. Nowhere in Hawaii does that. I don’t know if Lynchburg does it. The first time I ever visited a dentist in Hawaii, he took one look at my teeth and immediately knew that I grew up in a place with sodium fluoride in the drinking water. It’s so obvious.

I always bought mouthwash for you and Morey that contains sodium fluoride. Not all mouthwashes have it. You need to read the label. Most mouthwashes give you fresh breath, which is nice. But you really need sodium fluoride on your teeth when you go to sleep.

When I was in Afghanistan, I remember talking to Morey on the phone. I asked her when’s the last time someone looked at her teeth. She was surprised by the question. “There’s a doctor just for teeth?” She had no memory of ever visiting a dentist in Lynchburg. Money wasn’t the issue; I had great health insurance. A dentist visit would be free. Your mom just had to make an appointment and take you. But she wouldn’t do it. I still don’t understand that. A few days later, I was still mad. I called her up and told her that refusing to give the kids dental healthcare was essentially child abuse. There was no reason not to take you and Morey to see a dentist.

Eventually, I made an appointment myself for you and Morey — from a tent in Afghanistan. I reminded your mom of the appointment, but she still “forgot” (so she says), and it had to be re-scheduled.

When I found out you had no mouthwash with sodium fluoride, I had an entire case of it shipped to your house. Morey and your mom thought I was crazy for doing it. Yeah, I’m the crazy abusive asshole with great teeth who wants his kids to have great teeth, too.

The next time your mom tells you that I want to kidnap you, say, “Yes, and he’ll bring me to a dentist!”

Thinking of you today, and your teeth,
Dad

p.s. if you want to go hardcore, find mouthwash with chlorhexidine gluconate. Yeah, I know, lots of big chemistry words. But it’s great stuff if you want great teeth. You really need to read the fine print. If you want some, but can’t get it, let me know. I’ll be sure you get some. Ask ANY old person. They all wish they’d taken better care of their teeth.

Sophia,

Your Nana Lee has a neighbor on Kauai named Michael Ceurvorst. I was searching the Internet and found this story. Nana Lee didn’t write the story; one of her friends wrote it. It’s about Michael’s birthday party several years ago. But Nana Lee was there (so was her husband Joe and her business partner Neil). Nana Lee even read poetry at the party.

But the big focus of the party was Michael’s daughter Lucille, who had flown to Kauai from very far away to attend. It was agreed that Lucille’s visit was the best present he could get on his birthday.

I don’t know if we should call it irony or a total lack of empathy. But there’s a latent dark streak in that story. No one seems to care that you and your father can’t be together on holidays and celebrations. I guess you and I aren’t part of the “chosen people”, blessed by Nana Lee.

It’s too bad. It really is. I think you deserve a father in your life.

I hope you had a nice birthday yesterday.
Love, Dad

lee morey, lucille teckla ceurvorst, michael ceurvorst, kauai, lucille teckla ceurvorst wolff, joe sylvester