Hi, my name is Cynthia. I am 13 years old, and I live with my mother
and father. Well, I mean, until recently that's what I
thought. My mother is pregnant and will soon give birth
to my brother. No… it's not like that. Oh, my, um, let me start over from the beginning! Just six months ago we were an absolutely
normal and happy family. Only my grandmother Pamela, my father’s
mother, and my mother had a pretty cold relationship. You know, they both pretended that the other
just didn’t exist! But it was always this way, and I had gotten
used to it. Whenever we were going to visit my grandmother
we would always do it together with my father, and my mother wouldn’t join us. My grandmother can’t be called the most
sweet and nice person to communicate with, but I always knew that she was really very
kind. The only thing about her that I saw was that
she was sad because she lived alone. Right when I was about to be born, my grandfather
and her divorced – he went to Europe and we haven't heard from him since. Well, at least that was the story I heard
when I was little and when I asked. And then when I grew up- I stopped asking. My parents wanted a second child badly, but
for a long time they were unsuccessful. When my mother finally got pregnant, we were
all so happy! And then my father made us even more happy
when he said that after the baby was born, we would move to the new house, a bigger and
better one! Life was beautiful! But something went wrong. After a few months, I noticed that my parents
became more and more nervous and upset. When I asked what was going on, they just
brushed me off. So I decided to call granny Pam and ask what
was wrong. My grandmother said that I was already big
enough to know and explained that my father took out a mortgage for the house, but that
something had gone wrong with the business, and now he was having trouble paying it off. She also added that the best thing I could
do was to spare my father from questions since he was feeling bad enough already. So, I couldn't get any answers from my father
— no questions, because I didn't want to make him feel worse, but I couldn't ask my
mother either – I had no right to get her worried, because it could harm the baby. All I could do was guess – will everything
be alright or will we soon be thrown out on the street and become beggars? So I thought that maybe I could learn to sing
and dance in order to earn money to feed my little baby brother and myself." My mom and dad became more and more sad and
irritated with each passing day. And they still didn't tell me anything. So I decided to eavesdrop on what they were
talking about. I know it's not good, but didn’t I have
a right to know what was going on? You know, at the beginning, I did not understand
what they were talking about. They sounded very nervous and argued about
something connected to money and… my grandfather. I listened and listened and finally I understood! It turned out that my grandfather had recently
died. He had left a will and according to this will,
I was the one who inherited all the big money he left! But only under the condition that I would
read some letter. Frankly speaking, I was so happy that I almost
left my secret hideout, screaming, ""...of course, this legacy will solve all of our
problems!"" But I didn't do it because I understood that
my parents did not want me to read the letter. Even though they kept repeating that we needed
this money very, very badly. I quietly returned to my room, went to bed,
and while I was still awake I was thinking that my parents should not worry – I was
a big girl now and whatever my grandfather had written in that letter wouldn’t scare
me, and I will be able to help my family with all the money he left me. And on the next day I said all of this out
loud, right away at breakfast. I thought they would be happy… but they
looked shocked and seemed totally unwilling to even talk about it. Then I called Granny Pam and told her everything. But you know… my grandmother reacted very
strangely. She started to laugh. But at the same time she didn't sound as if
she had found any of this actually funny at all. Finally she said: "Of course, my dear, I will
come over now and do my best to convince them." And she really did come to visit – I think
for the first time in my life. But it did not make me happy at all. She looked threatening and … triumphant
for some reason. And she talked to my parents as if she was
deriving some dark, unkind satisfaction from the whole situation. But she really did manage to persuade them
... She said, "Did you really think that you could keep this a secret forever?" and she
started laughing again, but I noticed tears in her eyes. I still had no idea what was going on, until
my grandfather’s lawyer came and gave me the letter that I had to read in his presence. From this letter I learned that my grandfather
was, in fact, my father." He was just over 50 when he met my mother
– she was his student and was in her early twenties and he had fallen in love with her. She felt the same and they started dating. When he found out that she was pregnant…
with me… he wanted to divorce his wife – my grandmother Pam, in order to marry my mother. But while they were going through all the
formalities, my pregnant mother met his son, he was 18 years old at the time. And they had fallen in love so deeply, that
she no longer wanted to stay with my grandfather… well, with my REAL father. When she told him, he had a hard time with
this. Finally, he asked his former wife to go to
Europe with him, but she refused. As it was written in the letter, she could
not forgive him, and, in addition, did not want to leave her beloved son. And then my grandfather… well… my real
father, decided to move to Europe alone. He thought that it would be better for everyone
if he just disappeared. I was so shocked. And it seems I am still shocked. You know, I am trying to simply sort out who
is who in my life. My grandfather is my father, my grandmother
is my step mother, my father is my brother and soon my brother-nephew will be born. It turned out that only my mother is who I
thought she was – my mother. But I can’t help thinking about how it turned
out that my dear Mommy ruined the lives of two good people – my real father and his
wife, Granny Pam. Even though I am not sure I can call her Granny…
or expect for her to REALLY love me. And now, yes, we are finally moving into the
new home. I gave my parents, er, whoever they are, permission
to use the money in order to pay the outstanding mortgage. But frankly speaking, I do not know how all
this is going to play out going forward. Maybe something will change after the baby
is born. Please support me with your likes. And tell me in the comments what you think
I should do in this bizarre situation.
