In the making of me, there was a woman looking for a job in Bermuda and a man from England, who was a manager of a hotel. He was toweringly tall. They got married and moved to Manhattan. Living in a cockroach-infested apartment with a bright HOTEL sign flashing in the windows, scruffy bag-men sleeping across the front steps and a few gunshots blasting in the distance. Nice place to bring up a child! Don't you think? Did it affect my life at all? No way.

I was born two years later. Once I was, things started going downhill. He was hardly ever home, it was probably good because he started to drink and stuff got bad. When this happened, I was two years old. She moved in with her parents who have taken care of us since. After they got a divorce, he never paid alimony. He must have not wanted to see me again. Look at what he's missing!

At graduation he won't see me walk up to get my diploma. What will happen at my wedding? Who will give me away? Maybe I won't even go to college or get married. What's the use? I wish stuff had happened differently, maybe things could have changed. I've always wanted to play catch with him or have a snowball fight with him. You don't know what if feels like on Father's Day.

He called once. My mom wasn't home. I answered the phone and started to cry. Later I laughed. He hadn't called for ten years! I'll never forget that day. I have grown braver each day because of the first half of my life. When I get married I will look hard for a man who will be a good and trusting father, not like mine. I am furious at him. Part of me is missing, the love of a father. n