My Father The Disappointment

***Paul Algueseva iii and Me at 5 months old***

Imagine having a father, who was never there for you. Imagine a man who was so disgusting and crazy that he threw your own 3 month pregnant mother into the wall just because of a stupid alarm clock. Imagine a man who made a 5 thousand dollar bet against your own gender. Imagine a man who never cared that you even existed....

In the beginning of my life i thought my father was a very busy man. Going around the world saving the name of art. I always referred to him as ArtDad or ArtDaddy. He was a superhero in my eyes. My mother spoke nothing but great things about him until I could learn the truth. Yes, I was born from love, but my dad wasn't all that fond about continuing that same love afterwards. This is my lifes story about my father and how he left us when I was 9 months old. This story is also about how he treated others and myself along the road. 

At age 6, I got news that my father would be coming into SA for a few days. I would finally see my dad! I remeber him calling me the week before; i was so excited. Over the phone, he promised he would come and pick me up, along with his girlfriend, Barb. Us three would spend the few days adventuring around the city. It was around the beginning of November, i had made him a poster for his birthday.

The great day arrived, no dad, i was all dressed and ready. Hours passed, no dad. Around dinner time, we got a call from grandpa saying, "Paul can't make it, his work got in the way, but you know how it is." My mother was so furious, she replied, "You know, you could have called sooner, instead of waiting till the last second and keeping his only daughter hopes up all day." As i listened to this conversation, i fled to my room and cried my eyes out. I knew in my heart something was up, but i pushed it aside. I didn't get to see my dad until the following year around summertime. 

At age 7, my dad had invited me to an art exhibit at the botanical gardens. I got to see him, finally! Yay! His girlfriend, Barb, was there, as well as my mom. She also was contributing at the same place. I remember my dad and another man were setting up my fathers sculptures in one of the hallways for the show. I was playing by the nearby pound, talking to the fish, when i heard my father several times shout, " You CU*T, you stupid CU*T!" I thought he was saying 'you can't,' but at that age and time, my foul language skills were not the most intuned. I went over to see what was happening, i said to my father, "Daddy, what can't you do? Do you need help?" My father was furious at the younger man, for some reason, but that slippery rat of a dad thought of a lie quickly. He replyed, "oh, um, Julie... I didn't see you there..me and Mr. Martin were just discusing were we need to put my sculptures." The fury in my dads eyes was quite visable, i didn't know what was happening, so, i went back and played by the pond some more. Later, Barb took a picture of us after the event. There were other things that happened that day and that week, i really don't want to post about. Not going into too much detail, it's just too unbearable to explain. 

At age 10, It was again summertime, it was around intedependence day. I had gained a lot of weight due to medicine changes and increases. I was in 5th grade, and i was top of the bully list at my school and neighborhood. Little did i know, my father was going to make things worse. When i went over to my grandparents house. When i knocked on the door, my father answered it. He said in a unpleasant tone, "Thank you, but we're not excepting any girl scout cookies or anything at the moment." He had thought i was a door to door sales kid, my own father didn't even recognize me. It was hot and humid, i replyed in a raspy voice, "Dad, its me, Julie." I thought he was joking, but he wasnt. He slammed the door before i could finish my sentence. My uncle opened up the door and appoligized. Tìo Able was flabbergasted that his own flesh and blood brother didn't recognize his daughter. Dad took a longer, ugly stare at me and replyed, "Oh, I'm so sorry, Julie." I recently had an eye exam this morning, i didnt recognize you."

This wasn't the truth. I later figured he was disgusted by me, my very presence. Around lunch time my dad poked through my sleepover suitcase. He asked, "Are all these your vitimans?" "Dad", i replyed, "Yes, those are my medications." My father looked at me like as if i was a leper. He stormed over to the kitchen and through my bag of meds into the garbage. "This is why you're so...so, like this!" Those doctors are just quacks! They're the ones that are killing you!" He shouted to my face. That night, after all the drinking contests, drunken music between my Tìa, father and other family members, I called my mother to come pick me up. I told her what had happened. While I was on the phone, my cousins started to make me feel bad, that i didnt want to stay, calling me a whimp and a crybaby. I really wanted to spend the night, but after all that mess, i just wanted to go home. When my mom arrived outside with the car, I quickly made a b-line for the door. My uncle came rushing out of the house before we left my grandparents driveway. He brought me something which i thought was some sort of boxed toy package. But to my surprise, when i opened it, was my pills. My tìo had fished them out of the garbage for me. I was so very greatful. Later that night, my mother got a disturbing voicemail from my father. She didn't let me listen to it until i was older and i knew the complete truth about him. That was about a good 6 years later when i could see him for what he truly was. 

For the next 2 in half years i really, REALLY worked hard to lose the weight. In fact i worked so hard that I made myself sick a couple of times and my doctors said I had to stop before I hurt myself permanently. The year was December of 2002 and I was down to 145 pounds even, that, and that same year had a humungous growth spurt. That December I heard good news of my dad. He was going to come to my birthday party. Mom and I made sure everything was perfect. I got my hair professionally styled three days before the party, that, and I had my dentist put a special color on my braces. I made great attempts that everything was absolutley perfect, well, as much as possible. All my close friends and family members came to the party. Mom and I had picked this 5 cent arcade, called LarzLand. I remember every 30 minutes, i would go outside to check if my dad had come. An hour became 2, and all our guests had attended, all except my father. I really wanted him to be present. Around the pizza lunch hour, my Tìa came in with a huge birthday bag. Little did i know, that this bag held my fathers gift to me, as well as a pity-drunken apology. Another wonderful memory of mine, was when my mother was cuting the cake. My eldest cousin, Hillary, who said she wanted the biggest slice and shouted to the whole group, "Juli doesn't need the biggest slice. Besides, like you really need it! Your just going to get fat again, Hulie!" My aunt looked at her with a dirty glare, then told my mom how big was too big of a slice. My mother softly said something to my aunt Cindy that made her very quiet. From the table, I still was looking at the window, hoping that my father would come in through those doors. Still looking, still waiting, still hoping. When it came down to presents, that was when my Tìa mentioned, "Oh, and by the way, your father couldn't make it, something at the foundry happened that made him stay longer, but you know how busy he gets around this season. Also, he wanted to give this to you. It's his gift, there's one from Barb too." My heart felt broken and deceived, again. Before any of the other presents, I opened his first. It felt like a huge book. In the past, I've told my dad i love books, reading them, being inspired by them to make my own, etc. It was indeed a book alright. The complete storybook of Winnie the Pooh for Children. My cousin, and a lot of the adults laughed.

I felt so embarrassed! In my head, i thought, "How old does this man think i am?" My mom was glancing over face palming herself. There was also a letter to it. Half was bent and falling apart. The other half was sticky and smelled like beer. It said, "happy birthday. Hope it's a great one! Sorry i couldnt make it, things are busy at work." I looked up in the right top hand corner of the card, in my father's handwriting it had the numbered year 1994. I shook my head, I couldn't believe it, he had regifted both the present and card. I quickly went over and opened Barbs gift, now she got me something i could really use. It was a whole art and rubber stamp kit. Barb really knew me, she was one the family members who actually listened and understood. My thirteenth birthday was indeed a blast, but making promises you cannot keep, especially to your daughter, really hurts.

In the year of the spring 2003, it was my last year of middle school. I was savoring everything I could. From my friendships, to the educational classes I took, I was really was afraid I would never see my middle school friends again. Jorden was an awesome place. Much better than Hourseman. That spring break our art teacher, Mr. Tate had taken pictures of his art travels around the U.S. of cementarys and museums where famous and not-so-famous artists had died. One in particular really caught my attention, it was of an Iowa cemetery that had a sculpture of a crucified Jesus on it. I could really tell that Mr. Tate was quite gifted in photography. I remember throughout that whole early summer my dad would send letters from Iowa. It felt very strange for him to send me anything. It was mainly all about him, never a word about mom, or the family, it was all about him, always. Sometimes it would be newspaper clippings, other times it would be a wriiten letter in dirty parchment paper, yuk! 🤢 However, that last month of summer vacation my dad had invited my mother and I to an unveiling ceremony in Bandera county. In my mind I was coming into realization that my father was a total narcissist. I thought, "i wonder what kind of sculpture or sculpture's my father created this time?" When we got there, I remember an older gentleman thanking Paul for his contribution. They took down the curtain, low and behold, this was NOT a one of kind piece like my dad had overly spoken about in his letters. My dad had literly stollen a dead artists masterpiece. I remember it was the same sculpture my middle school teacher had taken a picture in that Iowa cemetery. It took a lot of energy to not call him out, so I said nothing.

However, my mom did. She replyed softly to his face, "So, did you take 10%, or just stole and put your name on the whole thing, Paul?" That was so priceless!  My father turned 50 shades of red that day. No one heard my mother say it, but i sure did. I knew my dad had stollen that artwork, my mom knew it too. Not only was my dad a narcissist, he was also thief too. I really have no idea how he did it, but he did. I really feel sorry for that deceased Iowa artist and his family that my dad ripped off. I know the piece was originally made in the 1800s, but still, no excuse. You don't steal from the dead, especially something of any religious factor. That is BAD karma right there. That day on, i wondered how many other works of art he had stollen?🤔

The picture above shows my father and I at his University. This was the year I found out the truth.

It was the winter of 2006. The city of San Antonio was getting ready for the holidays by lighting the tree downtown. My dad had taken me too several places in the last 2 days, well, the places HE wanted to go too. I remember him promising and promising to take me anywhere my heart desired. Instead, we ended up going to the Foundry, his University, and other places that he wanted to go. Sadly to say this was the year i found out what a true monster my father was like. On the third day, we went to central market. My dad had parked under the freeway. He told me i was going to to enjoy the walk. Little did I know that this 'walk' was 5 miles into downtown where we would meet my Tìa and my cousins. I remember Barb was a frizzled mess, smoking every chance she got. My mother had told my dad that morning, if she needs to take a break, let her take breaks, she has Lupus and feet problems. My dad didn't do this, he rushed and bullied me to keep going. I was in so much pain. After all that walking, in the middle of downtown, we finally sat down at local Pizza food truck. My dad bought me this greasy slice of cheese and pepperoni. I told him i cannot eat that, dad. It's not a cheat day. "Eat it!" He shouted in half way dilated black eyes. The man was clearly pissed about something, and i had a good feeling it was me. I took a few bites of that 'pizza' and when we got up to throw away my trash, i puked my guts out. Barb held my hair back as i hurld into a nearby garbage can. Dad shouted at me, saying, "You done yet? We have to go!" Sick to my stomach, dizzy and in pain in multiple places of my body, i cried, "Dad, please i need to take a break, remember what what mom said." My dad was huffing and puffing, and slowly turned around and shouted to my face, "Your mother isn't here, im the boss!" 1 hour in a half later, we finally met my Tìa and cousins at Fuddruckers. I was a mess, i really wanted to go home it was already 4PM, i didn't know what to do. To make things worse, my aunt Cindy told me to my face, "You're a spoiled little brat. Your father showers you in all these gifts and you have the nerve to want more!" At that point, that was enough. I had it, i asked Barb for 3 quarters for the claw machine. What I actually used that money for was to call my mom. I was so upset on the phone, i was trying to keep silent, but i couldnt. At least i gave her the location where i was at, before my dad grabbed the phone and shouted in it, "she's fine!" He slammed the payphone hard and looked at me in these rageful eyes. Barb stepped in and told me to go to the bathroom and stay there. I stayed as much as i could. What felt like seconds was actually 20 to 30 minutes. My dad banged on the door, and screamed, "Julianne!! Get out here right now!!" Don't make me come in there!" I replyed in a panic, "You cant, it's illegal for men to enter a womens restroom." I waited till he had left the outside bathroom door. I snuck out, i knew my mom had to be close by. So i ran outside the restaurant, and there was my dad. He had a glass Budweiser beer in his left hand and with the other hand he pointed his index finger at my face and told me, "your a disappointment, YOU'RE a disgrace to this family, YOUR not my daughter!!" The insults to me and the degrading of my mothers family were atrocious. He slammed his beer shattering it into the stairs of the Fuddruckers and made a fist about to hit me. Suddenly, my mother drove up and veered the car onto the curb about to hit my dad. She quickly got out, and shouted, "DON'T YOU DARE HIT MY CHILD!!" My dad put his fist down and i ran to get inside the car to cry. My mom had a good talk with him for about 5 minutes. I will tell you one thing, I was saved by an angel, called mother. After that whole experience, my mom told me everything about my dad on the way home. Down to the very last, little detail of her life with him. Stories that happened before my birth, stories after my birth. A year later both my grandmothers passed, but my father never attended the funeral of his own mother, Cecelia. I have always been VERY GRATEFUL for my mom. I am very grateful for both my family's, living and deceased. The reason i have posted this long blog is because my dad is on the verge of departure from this world. From what my sources say he's not doing so good. One of my grandfathers lovely quotes were, "You made your bed, lay in it." Unfortunately, for Paul, he has made his bed, and he must lay in it. Paul, if you're reading this (i really dont care if you are or not), I'm not gonna pity you. You were never there for me, my mom or sister. And when you where, you were there with rage and physical/emotional abuse. I will never forget you, nor will i forgive you. My real father, the one who has always been there, is the one who brought you and mom together. And that being is The Divine Above. I wish you well in what life you have left on this planet.