Author: To_Kiss_A_Frog
Rating: Mature
Disclaimer: Don't own anything you recognize. The song is Confessions of a Broken Heart: Daughter to Father by Lindsay Lohan
Summary:Maria is a famous musician and on the eve of her third album's release, she pays of visit to the muse of her most famous song.
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I saw this video which inspired me to write this fic. I found a website that streams it for free so if anyone wants to check it out, the video is really good. Just Click Here. It's in another language but just type in Lindsey Lohan and click on the song which should be written out in English.
Daughter to Father</center>
“Can I have your name, please?” I look away from my shaking hands as his question floods my ears. It’s funny. On most days I walk around with a hat on my head and a pair of dark glasses on my face to hide my identity. Then I walk in here and there probably isn’t a single person in this entire building that knows that who I am. Well… maybe one does.
“Maria Deluca” I say as the stocky uniformed guard writes down my name. Next, he wants to know who I’m here to see and what my relationship to them is. It almost feels like a lie as I reply, “Felix Deluca and I’m his daughter.”
I came here once before but he refused to see me then. I was ten years old and crushed by the rejection. I decided that he still blamed me and convinced myself that he would never forgive me. I didn’t realize that he was the one who should have been begging for forgiveness, not me. I guess that’s just what happens when you spend your childhood as daddy’s little girl.
Since then, I’ve developed a thicker skin that helps me get through the days in a media driven industry. Lately, with my new album coming out tomorrow, the paparazzi have been hounding me like there is no tomorrow. I really owe Michael for this one… for finding a way to get me in here, undetected and unbeknownst to the vultures, also known as the press.
“They you are ma’am. He’ll be right out.” I smile my thanks and sit on a cold metal stool, the only one vacant right now. Around me, families, wives, children and friends all sit before their Plexiglas windows with a phone to their ear. Some are sad, some are happy and some, like me, look just nervous about being here. I don’t even know if he’ll recognize me.
Because I can’t sit here and think about what ifs, my mind drifts to the single topping the charts right now. It’s amazing how the fans love that song, sing along with the radio and belt out the words alone in their showers yet to me… I can barely stand to hear it. Michael, my producer, thought it would be a good idea, therapeutic even. I finally got to tell my story in my own way after all these years of having everyone guess at it. Now I just need for him to hear it… to hear me tell my story.
I wait for the postman to bring me a letter
I wait for the good Lord to make me feel better
There are lines on his face that weren’t there before. A scar on his hand that appears to be burnt on. His sandy blonde hair, a color that’s identical to mine, is now speckled with gray, making him look so much older than he actually is. I hardly recognize him, yet I’d know him anywhere.
My heart’s going to leap out of my chest, I swear it is. He’s looking at me, almost like he’s trying to place where he should know me from. I wonder if he’s going to walk away once he figures it out. Once he remembers that I’m the one who put him here.
And I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders
A family in crisis that only grows older
When he sits, I grab the phone beside me and hold it to me ear. After all these years, I’ve forgotten what his voice sounds like and I need to remind myself again. I need the sound to keep my company until he’s out and I can breathe easily again. Until I can sleep through the night without waking from violent dreams of his retribution. Dreams where he pays an even higher price than he’s already paid for what he did. Even if he always hates me, I can live with it as long as I know that he’s safe.
“Dad?” I whisper and listen to his even breathing. His face shows me nothing, another trait I inherited from him. Michael says it’s a good thing I don’t work in Vegas, otherwise I’d make a killing at the casinos with my poker face. “Dad” I say again and pray that he’ll answer me this time.
“Maria” he acknowledges. His voice is raspy, unused and he seems almost physically pained by the act of talking. “What are you doing here?” he questions but thankfully, there isn’t anger in his voice. He sounds resigned… defeated and immediately, I want to ask him what he’s been through. I want to ask him what happened that night, why he did what he did.
I feel like I need to know but I can’t bring myself to ask the questions… to say the words. I used to be able to ask him anything.
Why'd you have to go
Why'd you have to go
Why'd you have to go
“I wrote a song” I find myself admitting even though it wasn’t what I had planned on saying. “It’s about you… and me. It’s number one right now on the charts. I thought you should know that. I thought maybe you could listen to it.” The CD case is sitting at the bottom of my purse, wrapped up in purple and neon green tissue paper. He always said those two colors were hideous together and used to laugh about it whenever I put on my purple and green spotted leotard for dance class.
“I’m a singer now” I add when he continues to just stare at me. His eyes, so similar to my own, unnerve me. “This latest album is my third and Michael, my producer, thinks that it’s gonna go platinum. I guess those voice lessons I used to take paid off” I say. Immediately after, I barely hold in a cringe as I remember that fateful night and where I had come from.
Voice lessons, every Tuesday and Thursday with Miss Perry in Las Cruces. Mom used to pay Liz Parker, the 16 year old daughter of her best friend, Nancy, to drive me there so she and my dad wouldn’t have to leave work. Liz was sick that Thursday, coming down with a horrible cold so we left early. She dropped me off and waited until I got to the door before driving away, just as she always did.
This time was different. I’ll never forget the scene I witnessed or the horror I felt deep inside my soul.
He was hurting her… yelling at her for some unknown sin. She cried, god she cried so loudly, so brokenly. She was terrified, I saw it in her eyes when they finally looked up and realized I was there. “Stop it!” I screamed and cried as he tossed her away and came after me. “No!” my mom yelled and pushed him away. She yelled at me to go to my room, to lock the door and to stay in there, no matter what.
Daughter to father, daughter to father
I am broken but I am hoping
Daughter to father, daughter to father
I am crying, a part of me is dying and
These are, these are
The confessions of a broken heart
She said that it didn’t happen all the time. I wanted to believe her but knew that the words were an effort to make the both of us feel better about the whole situation. She thanked me and said she didn’t blame me for calling Jim Valenti while I stayed locked up in my room. She thanked me and said she didn’t blame me when he went to trial. She thanked me and said she didn’t blame me when her husband got sent to prison for his crime against her and the crimes we never knew about before.
It was why I felt so guilty when I started to miss him. She has always been the best mom and Jim stepped in to play the caring uncle once my dad was gone. The two of them had been best friends for years but he pushed past his own hurt to be there for me and my mom. I don’t think I could thank him enough for that.
Yet, still… I wanted to see my dad again. I needed to see his eyes and to hear his voice so that the new memories would replace my last ones of him. I wanted his scent, fresh cologne rather than the alcohol that permeated the air when he spoke. It’s why I waited until my mom was away and dug into the boxes filled with his things.
There was a sweater, navy blue and a present from me. I took it, kept it under my bed during the day and slipped over my body at night. It was then that I would dream of another life. Another Felix Deluca who loved and cared for me and my mom. One who didn’t hurt us, who was there for me when I needed him. This Felix didn’t make a mess for us to clean up, he was the father I desperately needed.
And I wear all your old clothes, your polo sweater
I dream of another you
The one who would never (never)
Leave me alone to pick up the pieces
A daddy to hold me, that's what I needed
“If you have something to say to me, say it. I don’t need to hear a song” he tells me. I don’t know why I expected anything different from him. I’ve always known how much he blames me for all these years he’s had to spend here, for all the years he still has left here.
“That’s the thing. I don’t know how to say it so I put it in a song. It’s the only way I know how to explain what I feel… what I felt” I tell him. After that night, I stopped knowing how to communicate. I kept everything inside of me, saved it all for my songs. At least that’s what my mom tells me. “Please, just… just listen to it.”
My eyes plead with him as I slip it through the little slot designated for pages when lawyers visit. On top, I added a little gift tag that simply says three words. Daughter to Father.
He looks at me. I actually believe he’s going to say something but then the moment is gone. Quickly, he swipes the CD off the table and hangs up the phone so that it echoes loudly in my ear. I watch, saddened with tears in my eyes as he signals the guard that he’s done. Then, all too soon, they’re leading him away… out of my life, once again.
So why'd you have to go
Why'd you have to go
Why'd you have to go!!
There’s a black expedition waiting for me when I walk out. The windows are tinted, making it impossible to see that I’m the one sitting in the back seat. Not for the first time, I think about all I owe Michael for everything he’s done for me. He’s been patient even when I was hard to deal with. He stood by me even when I pushed him away.
I told him that I needed time, that I needed closure. He respected that and waited until I came to him with an idea. He had wanted to come with me but I needed to do this alone so he arranged everything instead. The car, the guards, a decoy… everything.
This wasn’t what I had hoped for but I guess I finally have my closure. And now, I can finally set a date. I can finally marry the love of my life, my best friend and my biggest supporter, Michael Guerin.
Daughter to father, daughter to father
I don't know you, but I still want to
Is it crazy that even after everything I’ve been through with my dad, I still want to know him? I still want to be his little girl.
Daughter to father, daughter to father
Tell me the truth, did you ever love me
I want to ask him if he ever really loved me or if everything I remember of him was also a lie. Maybe it was. I mean, how could anyone who loves someone else, ever try to hurt them? Love means doing everything in your power to shield them from pain, not inflicting it.
“And now, the chart topping hit by world-wide sensation, Maria Deluca!” I want to cringe as the song begins to play. My first thought is to ask the driver to change the station but I realize that I don’t need to do that anymore. These are my words. This is my life. I lived through it, I should at least be able to hear it.
Verse after verse. I feel tears form in the corners of my eyes but I don’t wipe them away. They’re a sign of my own personal hell but they’re also a sign that I didn’t break. I made my way back and no matter what my dad believes, I know I’m stronger because of it.
Cause these are, these are
The confessions of a broken heart
I love you,
I love you
I love you
I....!!!!!
I love you!!
In his cell, Felix listened to the CD Maria brought him. Each visit, Jim Valenti always had some tidbit of information on his daughter so the fact that she was a famous musician had been no surprise to him. What had been a surprise was the visit. He was so tongue tied with a thousand apologies in his mind that he forgot how to say anything at all. He didn’t want her to see him cry so he walked away. He convinced himself it was for her own benefit as well as his own.
Now, listening to the passionate words flowing from his daughter’s beautiful voice, Felix began to regret his decision to keep her away for so long. She had needed him. He needed her but had refused to admit it. Now he feared it was too late. Feared the words she sung expired minutes before as he walked out of her life again.
Daughter to father, daughter to father
I don't know you, but I still want to
Daughter to father, daughter to father
Tell me the truth...
Did you ever love me!!!?
Did you ever love me?
These are.....
The confessions...of a broken heart
Ohhh....yeah
I didn’t tell my mom that I went to see him. I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t want them to know how hard I cried on Michael’s shoulder when I walked into our apartment. I didn’t want them to know how I fell apart in his arms and cried myself to sleep. I didn’t want them to know that behind the smile I wear is a sadness no one can ever completely fix.
I’ll live and I’ll survive. I know I will. I have no doubt that I will. I just wish that things could be different.
“Hey sweetie” my mom greets and kisses my cheek then Michael’s. My mom loves Michael. “This came from you, by the way” she adds and hands me a square package, wrapped up in brown paper. There’s no return address but the post park is from New Mexico so it can’t be anything from the studio.
“Thanks” I say and take it with me to our bedroom. Quickly, I tear through the paper and find a large stack of unmailed letters, addressed solely to me. They all have stamps and a return address but no postmark. The address isn’t what gets me to though, it’s the single slip of paper on top.
Father to Daughter
I wait for the postman to bring me a letter.
