Dear Old Mom
Antoinette McKinley, at eight, devoured the Harry Potter books. She had started the series a few days ago, and she was hooked, like every other child in the world. Unlike every other child, she read through the available four books in the series in two days and now she wanted to know what happened to Harry next.
She had begged her mother for the Harry Potter series for weeks and what felt like forever. Her mother had denied her the right because they ‘are devil books, Antoinette;’ she had remarked this with a distinct passion and disgust that only her mother was capable of. Her mother, also known as the religious crazy on the block, made her go to Sunday school and bible study at least twice a week; she learned Aramaic because of it. Eliza, Antoinette’s mother, had a tight leash on her and made sure to control every aspect of her life.
Her mother was a subject Antoinette liked to avoid if at all possible. Eliza had a stronger bond with her precious alcohol bottles than the relationship she told everyone she had with God, no matter how much she tried to lie to herself. Of course, no one could hear about her mother's affair with alcohol. It was a secret after all. “If anyone else finds out about that we will be ruined!” She could hear her mother’s voice in her head.
‘Fuck them,’ she thought. ‘I just want a mommy. Like the one Betty has.’ Betty, one of the only friends she had, her mom would ask her what she wanted and got that for her. She said no when she was supposed to. When she went to Betty’s house, there weren’t any alcohol bottles lying around, the only yells she heard were of glee.
She could still feel the tiny scar on her eyebrow. It was still healing with a tiny stitch and everything. It was caused by a wayward, miniscule piece of glass that flew when her mother threw a bottle in her direction. She had to go to the hospital as a result. Betty’s mom, Kayla, took her. She was also their neighbor, so when she heard the commotion she rushed over and found Netty bleeding and trying to fix the damage on her own. Kayla scooped her up and, against her mother’s wishes, took her to the ER. When she came back home, it was to her mother locked up in her room, so she left her alone and avoided her as much as possible. So that’s what its gonna be this time, she’s gonna lock herself up for I don’t know how long. Well, better for her then, no yelling and not knowing what to say for at least the rest of the day.
Antoinette never knew when to approach her mother with anything, due to a habit of hers that included alcohol and horrible bouts of depression. One time she woke up really thirsty, so she made her way to the kitchen. Since she was walking barefoot through the dark kitchen, she felt something prick her skin. She turned on the light, brought her foot up for inspection and found a dot of blood. It was from a piece of glass. She looked around the room to see what it could have been from, and she found a broken black label bottle. ‘That’s mommy’s favorite,’ she mused. Antoinette mostly kept to herself unless she became stubborn about some idea that had made a home inside of her head.
“Antoinette, come to the living room,” her mother’s voice called. Little Antoinette huffed from inside her room and nervously started to wonder what she might have done this time.
“Ugh, coming Mom,” she responded with all the attitude the eight year old could muster. She jumped off her bed and with thud when she landed on the carpet in her room. When she walked by her beloved skates, her hands caressed the roughed-up booties that had been through so much with her.
When she got to the living room, the older woman started to talk. “Honey, pack a bag, only one. Once you’re done with that, let me know.”
“Why?” Antoinette asked, the tone a bit annoyed. She looked up at the older version of herself with a questioning look.
“Just do as you’re told, Sweetie,” Antoinette heard the bitter hint of exasperation in her mother’s voice that was always there when her line of questioning began.
“Okay,” Little Antoinette shrugged uncertainly as she made her way to her room.
Her eyes landed on her Harry Potter collection. Right next to it was the bible that she was forced to learn from in bible study. She rolled her eyes just at the sight of it. It was written in Aramaic. Just looking at the bible brought back all those bible study sessions and fights with her mother. All the confusion and hurt attached to those fights came right back. I hate it when Momma thinks she knows everything. It always makes her drink more. That bible was not going anywhere near her backpack. No siree.
The Harry Potter books were set aside. Next her eyes landed on her ice skates. She smiled and ran to get them and with all the necessary gear that came along with her favorite sport. Figure Skating was the only thing that truly held her attention for more than a week, a constant peppered through her unending list of habits and hobbies that weaved their way in and out of her life. Where are we going? Why do I have to pack my bag? Were just a few of the questions her mind started to conjure up. She's the one that always packs it for me. She let her eyes roam the room as she tried to figure out what to put in her Hot Wheels backpack. I can do this, I am the smartest in the whole third grade, so I am gonna make mommy so proud! Her brain spoke, giving herself a pep-talk so she could mentally prepare her 8-year-old brain for the daunting task ahead.
From observing her mother as she packed her previous bags, she deducted where everything in her room was placed. First, she went to her dresser and opened up the drawer where her underwear was located. She might as well pack for a week, so seven pairs of those she picked out. Next, she went for her jammies, of course she had to take her Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles jammies. She skipped over the Barbie ones pjs. ‘Mommy makes me take those on every trip and I hate pink.’ .Then, as a stand out were her Hot Wheels jammies. ‘Mommy always says those are for boys but I don’t care, I like them!’ She thought. The Mulan PJ’s caught her eye next. Those were the only ones Mom ever liked. She remembered the smile on her mother’s face when she picked out her first ever Disney Princess item, she closed that drawer shut. The motion made a clang that made her flinch.
She popped opened the next drawer and grabbed her Figure Skating outfits. As her gaze traveled through the available leotards and skirts, she spotted her favorite red leotard and gold skirt combo.’Mommy hates this outfit because it stands out and that's why its coming with me'. she thought, miming her mom’s usual response to it. Her hands worked quick to gather them and she placed them into her bag. Right next to it were a couple more of her usual black leotards with pink skirts. ‘Momma always forces me into these, they suck.’ Those stayed far away from her backpack. They might give her some disease that would make her become boring. The ones she did take were the purple skirts and tan leotards. She stuffed a tiny handful of them into her bag. After that, she skipped her way over to her closet.
The closet doors made a crack as she grabbed the handle to open them. She grabbed the first seven shirts and pants she spotted- all a very colorful assortment, mind you. Basically, all of the ones Eliza didn’t let her wear. So it made it a given that they were coming along on the journey with her. 'She should've packed my bag, if she didn't want me to bring anything that she hated.' her thoughts rang loud with rebellion. Some pairs of shoes made their way into her awesome Hot Wheels backpack. She zoomed over to where she placed her skates and Harry Potter books and packed those, too.
Toys! She went over to the red toy chest she with enthusiasm that vibrated on her every step. She could almost feel the ground shake. The blue special edition Hot Wheels suitcase she carried to practically every place she went to was packed, as well as the action figures her mother detested. The tiny chemical lab kit and the cell phone she found and picked apart would have to stay at home.
“Antoinette, Sweetie, are you done?” Her mother’s voice carried throughout the house and to her living room. It sounded like she was distracted or nervous or something was wrong. Thoughts raced a mile a minute in her head as she started to question not if but what was wrong.
“Yes, mom, I just finished,” Antoinette screeched out as a bit of an uncomfortable feeling started to hit her stomach. Stumbling because of her heavy backpack, she made her way toward the living room to where her mother was.
“That’s great, Honey.” Fake enthusiasm poured out of her mother’s mouth as she continued, “Let’s get this bag to the car.”
They made their way outside to the driveway as she walked in the general direction of it absentmindedly. She was trying to figure out what was wrong. Her instincts nagged at her something smelled funny, like funky fish from the sushi place around the corner.
“Your bag is already in the car, hon.” The reply did little to calm what felt like bats flying around in her stomach. “Come on, Antoinette, the bus leaves in a bit. We have to leave now if we want to make it on time.”
The mention of a bus distracted her from the tummy ache. She had always told her mom she wanted to ride on a bus! Wow, a bus ride finally. I have the best mom ever! So they made their way to the car and Antoinette was too busy being excited about at last being able to ride a bus to notice that there was no additional bag in the car. It was only her lone Hot Wheels backpack in the car.
The thump made by the car doors as they were closed was thunderous in Antoinette’s ears. She winced a bit at the sound, as it echoed. As the car travelled through the San Francisco streets, her tiny body could barely handle all the excitement, as she bounced in her seat, at the thought of a journey on a bus.
“Sweetie,” her mother’s voice started out a bit high, “Here we are at the bus station, let’s get’cha inside.”
“Um, okay,” Antoinette muttered out. They roamed inside the bus station, where there were so many people, it got to be a tad overwhelming for a tiny body. She held her Hot Wheels bag clutched tight to her. Her mother ushered her towards a big sign that read, ‘Bus to Malibu departs in 15 min.’They came to a stop right in front of said sign.
“Okay, Honey, this is where I say goodbye. Here is your ticket for the bus admission. You give that to the bus driver when you get on, Sweetie. Also, once you get there- to Malibu, I mean- look for Tony Stark, your dad.” Panic filled her brain. Alarms and sirens were all going off at the same time. Her stomach swished and violently housed a small tornado as the fear set in. The terror at the thought of being abandoned made her dizzy. She felt when she tumbled to the side, it took all her strength to right herself again and find balance. She could barely stand up as her knees buckled.
She took the ticket from her mother’s hand, her tiny fingers trembled as she collected the ticket that would also symbolize her instant journey to adulthood. As soon as Antoinette had her hands on the ticket her mother ran away and vanished into the crowd. Her gaze, with the last hint of hope, desperately searched through the bus station for her mom. She tried her hardest to keep her panic at bay, so she wouldn’t break into a thousand pieces all over the grimy floor. She was stronger than that. So she did the only thing she knew how to do; and focused on the puzzle in front of her until it made sense.
She turned around, afraid as she desperately clung to logic to keep the tears at bay, and saw this enormous bus that would take her to a place called Malibu, where apparentlyDadd-Tony Stark, she corrected, lived. Snot started to fill her small nose. Stubborn as she was, though, she refused to let that out, too. In her throat, a knot that felt the size of the Grand Canyon was threatening to break her soul. With her vision a bit blurry from the tears in her eyes, she marched her way over to the bus. The bus driver asked for her ticket, took it, and showed her to her seat.
The bus journey was filled with snot and tears as the eight year old genius suffered a mental break down as the world she had come to know shattered spectacularly around her. Her life crumbled like the stale bread she had for dinner the day before. She was in a bit of a daze the whole trip, but like the miniature genius she had always been, she was strong as the steel she worked with and focused on the challenge ahead. She set her mind to the task in front of her; finding her father, Tony Stark, that guy that was always on TV, that her mother complained about so much.
As she tried to make her way off the bus the bus driver looked at her skeptically, probably wondering who was going to pick her up. The bus driver approached her and asked, “Is anybody here for ya?”
“No, but Mommy gave me money for a taxi so I could get to daddy’s,” the tiny girl insisted in a surprisingly strong voice, although tiny tear tracks could still be seen on the young girl’s rose-colored cheeks. She was still trying to gather herself together as well as a strong-willed eight year old could manage. Inside, the pain of being left behind was forming an immense amount of pressure. There was also confusion among the hurricane of emotions that was currently taking over her. It felt like the bats that swarmed her stomach earlier became pterodactyls and were savagely fighting to the death in the pit of her stomach.
“Alright, let me call the taxi service so they can pick you up here. How does that sound, Sweetie?” The concerned bus driver suggested to the tiny girl.
All Antoinette could manage was a tiny nod as the ocean of feelings still flooded her. The ocean in her rocked fiercely with waves that only a thunderstorm could cause. The bus driver took his huge cell phone out of his pocket and placed the call to the taxi service. The man tried to make conversation with Antoinette, but she was in a land far away, too consumed by her emotions. She only let out one worded responses to the man’s attempts at conversation.
It felt like no time had passed as the taxi entered the parking lot of the bus station, and the bus driver half dragged her over to it. He asked her where she was going and she said, with as much confidence she could conjure up under the circumstances, “Tony Stark’s house.”
Antoinette could only hope it was enough to get her to where she needed to be.
“Really, kid?” The bus driver blurted with an incredulous tone.
Antoinette nodded and responded with a surprising tone of authority that left no room for question. “Yes, that’s where mommy said I had to go, so that is where the taxi is gonna take me.”
The bus driver had no choice but to shrug and inform the taxi driver of her request, he even paid for her fare.
The tiny blonde climbed her way up the mountain of a seat inside of the taxi. The bus driver helped her load her Hot Wheels backpack into the back seat, right beside her. Her tiny hands clutched her backpack as if it was her lifeline, the only thing that helped her keep her head afloat and from drowning in the maze of emotions that was too much for an eight year old to carry around.
The clang of the metal as it hit the interior of the car was deafening and it felt like it was shutting her out from the outside world. The ride was silent and the atmosphere was horribly tense. Antoinette numbly stared out at the scenery. She could not even bring herself to take in the beautiful beach littered roadways the taxi traveled through.
The driver announced that they had arrived and Antoinette uttered a quiet "Thanks." It resounded with the years of manners her mother had ingrained in her.
The driver opened the door and it was time to face the music. She slid off the seat and placed her backpack, her life-line, on her back. The driver got back into his taxi and took off. Antoinette turned and gazed astonished at the mansion of a house in front of her. It looked to her like some sort of art she would find in a museum made out of glass and white structures.
She made her way to the door, and before she even knocked or rang the doorbell, someone opened the door. In front of her was Tony Stark. Daddy! He was dressed in a white muscle shirt and covered in black stains from head to toe.
“Hi, Tiny Person,” Tony let out, but before he could launch into a tirade, she interrupted him.
“Mommy said she didn’t want me anymore and she said that you are my Daddy,” Antoinette delivered in a weak and vulnerable voice, squeezing some confusion in her tone.
“Well, I never got the ‘it’s a girl’ memo. And what’s your name?” Tony busted with while he teased the tiny munchkin. He seemed very much disgusted with the idea of him being a father, she gathered from his tone.
“Antoinette Elizabeth McKinley,” she declared.
“What’s going on here, Tyke? Who’s your mommy dearest?” He plainly asked while looking her directly in the eye.
The tiny blond took a deep breath and explained her situation.
“Eliza McKinley. My mom told me to pack a bag,” she babbled as she gestured over to it. “Back in San Francisco, Mom took me to the bus station and dropped me off and then she said bye and told me to find you in Malibu.”
“And just how did you find Casa de Stark?” He asked, and he looked like he was trying to solve a problem. He used his hands as he displayed the house, he completed his delivery with a mirthful look in his eye.
“I told the bus driver I needed to get to your house, so he called a cab and got him to drive me here.” she stated, amazed she was able to sound calm and rational as the torrent of emotions swirled and tumbled throughout her body.
“I do not have kids, Kid!” He exclaimed with a bit of an edge to his voice.
“According to mom, you kinda do,” she told him plainly, her tiny feet planted firmly on the concrete she stood on.
“Sure, Kid, whatever you say. Next thing you know, Britney Spears is going to shave her head. Let me get Happy so he can take you back to your mom and you can leave,” he muttered as he started to turn towards the inside of the house.
“HEY MR.STARK, MY MOMMY LEFT ME, OKAY? I AM JUST TELLING YOU WHAT SHE TOLD ME TO DO, OKAY? I HAVE NO WHERE ELSE TO GO! I DON'T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO? OKAY?” Antoinette belted with all her might, which caused the man to turn sharply in her direction. She was still confused, but she was tired, and as she finally let herself drown in all the emotions, her tiny body barely managed to keep her steady. She swayed a tad as the emotions all hit her at the same time. She leaned against the frame of the door. It had finally sunk in.
“My mommy doesn't want me anymore.” It’s all my fault! It all crashed down, her mother had abandoned her. She was alone in the world. Her eyes swam in tears and she finally let them out. Antoinette tried to focus on anything but the ongoing inner swarm of feelings she was battling with, she focused on the glass door and the mechanics of it.
With tears still making their way down her chubby cheeks, she asked, “The door, you didn’t pull it open. It opened on its own.” She paused and looked at the framework of the door, desperately searching for an answer.
“Does every door in your house run on a system like that?” She said as the tears slowed and her mind was finally off her mother leaving her on her own, her tiny hands started to work their way up and down the ridges of the glass door, trying to find hinges that kept it together.
Distractedly, her mouth rambled out a story as she added, “Last month, I kinda borrowed the hydraulic system in mom’s engine for a project. Mommy got mad though ‘cause I came home with my clothes ripped up and dirty.”
She shrugged as if any eight year old stole and worked on a hydraulic system all on their own. Her voice was still wobbly and unsure, but she achieved her goal as she distracted herself with another train of thought. The tears slowed down, but the emotions still bursted with eruptions right under the surface.
Something in his face changed; she could not pinpoint it. His eyes were attentive, all on her now, but there was a fear in them that was not there before. His stare was sharper now. It looked as if he recognized something.
“JARVIS, put Pepper on the line, would you? Ask her what the fuck I’m supposed to do with a sobbing midget claiming to be mine.” His voice colored with panic. He stared at Antoinette as if she were an alien from a magical land with unicorns and ponies. “I fucking want a paternity test, in fact I demand it! Trojan and their stupid good for nothing condoms will get sued; still not my kid, Tyke!” He vehemently stood by his earlier statements.
Anger made its way up her spine and the tears finally stopped. She used that anger as an anchor, it helped her keep her head clear and focused on what was going on right in front of her.
“I am not a midget,” the tiny blond reminded him. She had tear tracks on her face, but a spark of steel was present in her voice. It spoke volumes, it showed that the life she had lived hadn’t been all fairytales and gumdrops. “I am a kid.”
Just then, a robotic voice interrupted, “Ms. Potts is on the line, Sir.”
He kindly added his two cents in, “I don’t suppose you should be cursing in front of the infant, Sir.”
A mysterious voice managed with an English accent and snooty tone in it's singular way. The voice helped her let out a bit of the tension that had her feeling like a stretched out wire. Antoinette couldn’t help but let out a giggle at that comment.
“Mr. Stark, what’s this about a sobbing midget? Don’t be rude!” A pretty and feminine voice admonished Tony, sounding confused.
“Well apparently, Little Miss Thing here just reminded me she is a kid and her mom just abandoned her. She said her mom told her she was mine, which can’t happen.” It all came out rushed with a bit of disgust that somehow twisted into apprehension.
“Oh, and she is sobbing, too, and I mean losing it. Or at least she was, I'm not too sure what in hell is going on here.” He added in as an afterthought. “What am I supposed to do with her?” Panic and frustration were the only things that came across this time.
“Well, first of all, where in the house are you exactly? And you better not say the front door where anyone can see you and find out about it!” The voice sounded peeved and capable, so the little blonde let her handle the situation; she was too emotionally spent for this.
“Duh nooo, of course we’re in the living room.” He stated, with doubt.
“No, we are not.” Antoinette, always helpful, said as she was being ushered into said living room and the man smashed his face against his palm. “Yea now we’re in the living room.”
“Thank you, Sweetie. Mr. Stark, do not try to lie to me. What’s your name, Honey?” the voice firmly commented after the older man, she sounded like a fairy that could command an entire fairy army, as she got after him.
“You're welcome, Miss, and it’s Antoinette McKinley.” The tiny tyke giggled and replied with a sassy but saccharine tone. She looked directly at Tony as he mocked her as he repeated what she just said in a high pitched voice, which caused the young one to glare at the man.
“So what is going to happen is that I am going to rush over there. We are going to get Mr. Stark to call your mother and then get an at home paternity test and a doctor to make it official. We will go from there, okay? ” Who she finally realized was Pepper said. She was able to take a firm hold of the chaotic events with a few directives.
“She is not my kid, Ms. Potts, there are no little Starks running around. I want a paternity test done now! And our lawyers will be suing everyone that gave me this headache and caused this emotional breakdown Trojan included.” Tony’s voice sounded agitated and it ended with a yell. He said it all while he wildly gesticulated at the little blond tyke and pointed at everything in the room it seemed.
“Yes, Mr. Stark, that is our goal, Sir. Now, if you will please calm down, there is a child present. Mr. Stark, while I get there, you will call Antoinette’s mother so we can get her verbal permission so it can hold up in court. Do you understand?” Pepper’s voice said as she embodied a general ordering troops around.
“Yes, Dear,” Tony responded with a sarcastic voice.
Antoinette kept quiet while all this happened, her mind came to the realization that there was a possibility of not having a house to go home to after this. Her mind reeled with possibilities of what might happen to her after all of this was said and done. As the sound of the call disconnected, Antoinette’s attention was brought back to the room. Tony Stark looked at her with a face that said many things that she could not place. The lines in between his eyebrows scrunched up just like hers did whenever she was so close to figuring out how to make a car work or the answer to a problem.
Antoinette reached for her backpack, shook it off; then went on to take a seat at the couch, crossed her arms across her chest and answered, “(415) 213-4569”.
“Did you get that, JARVIS?” Tony spoke to the room “Dial the monster’s mother, will you?”
“Is that an AI?” Antoinette asked in astonishment. “I always wanted to try and make one but mommy never let me.”
The disembodied voice answered before Tony could get a word in. “Miss McKinley, to answer your question, I am an artificial intelligence that Mr. Stark developed so he would not have to perform menial tasks. So that he could have more time to perform important tasks, like lazing about. And Sir, I am in the process of connecting the call.”
“Wow, JARVIS, is that how you treat your the nan who put his blood sweat and tears into creating you?” he asked as a dial tone sounded throughout the house.
It felt like if she were about to walk the plank and the captain (Tony) was holding the sword at her back. She could almost feel the tip of the sword on her back as it poked her toward her death sentence. She reached to the middle of her back where the made-up tip of the sword would be placed and walked a few steps forward on the imagined plank. The waters beneath her were turbulent and thunder cracked loudly as it made her quiver. The next few hours would determine the rest of her life. Now that wasn't daunting at all.