Daughter of Monsters

Yes, I am the daughter of two of the most notorious people in the world. I know it’s literally the craziest thing. Yes, my dad was brought back from the dead. No, my other dad did not use lightning to do it. No, he’s not a psychopath hell-bent on raising the dead to do his bidding. Yes, he’s the same old Gerald Frankenstein, which would, yes, make my other dad Dr. Viktor Frankenstein. And yes, my life as Adelaine Frankenstein is a living hell, thanks for asking.

“It’s just insane,” the cute Italian boy with the sweetest accent said while walking alongside me on the old brick roads of Venice. “I mean, everyone knows who your dads are. They are like crazy insa–”

“So, where’s this restaurant?” I asked, cutting him off to pull his attention away from my infamous parents.

“Oh, it’s right up the road a little further,” he said, glancing over at me and reading the expression on my face briefly. “Would you like to talk about something else?”

I forced on a smile and said, “Yes, anything else, please.”

“I apologize, I’ve never met anyone famous before. This is… crazy,” he said. Then for a long few deadly seconds, silence fell between us and I wished this night was over. “I’m sorry, I just have like one more question and then I’ll drop it,” he said, then continued without giving me a chance to protest, “Do you guys get a profit of the death insurance?”

Of course, this date would be like all the others. Why would it matter that I’m half a globe away from home on spring vacation? I could not, for some unknown reason, have a normal goddamn date. Or life. Or anything.

This date flopped just as all my others had. No one can get past my dads, no one can get over the questions. No one ever believes they are completely normal parents.

By the time I returned to our rented-out villa, it was well before my curfew and my dads sat on the couch cuddling. I came in and sat on the couch beside them. Daddy Gerry put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me against his side.

“Another one?”

I only needed to nod and he understood. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence as you can tell.

We sat there for the rest of the night watching old nineties romcoms. Clueless and The Broken Hearts Club (technically a 2000 film) were among my fathers’ favorites.

The next day we flew back to the states the next day to our home in Council Bluffs, IA. It’s a small city connected to Omaha, NE, right on the border of Iowa. Yes, I grew up in rural, middle-of-fucking-nowhere Iowa. The Midwest is an entirely different place than New York, California, and even Florida. The people can be super nice, but the underlying judgment is ever-present. I’ve often referred to it as passively bigoted. Most people won’t outright call me or my parents monsters, but it’s definitely stated behind our backs… and by the bravest (or rudest) people out loud. But even as terrible as the people may sound and the middle of nowhere might be… I’d still choose it over all the other places I’ve been. My family travels a lot, as often as we can. Mostly we go to big cities like Chicago, NYC, Orlando, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and so on and so forth, but once in a while we hit the smaller big cities, like capitals of states and that’s always been my favorite part. I love getting to know the cultures of different areas and seeing how they operate differently from the others.

We’ve also been to a lot of different countries. Canada is our most frequent vacation destination and only because my dads love the snow. Like love it. They can’t get enough of it. In the deadass of summer, they book random weekend trips to northern Canada all the time. I only go about half the time now that I’m seventeen. I can only handle so much snow. My favorite place to visit is France because people generally mind their own business so it’s rare that people recognize us, or if they do it’s rare that they’ll do more than take a picture and post it to their Insta or whatever.

It’s the only place I ever had a successful date actually. About a year ago, I got through the whole night with the girl only asking about my dads once… and that was literally just to ask what they did for a living. When I told her my dad was a scientist and my other dad stayed at home, she just nodded and continued. Like it was no biggie. She was a very sweet girl, especially given where she lived, but the kiss at the end of the night was awkward and I was only there for the weekend so there was no point in following up.

At seventeen, I’ve been on exactly two-hundred-and-eleven dates. Yes, I know, for a seventeen-year-old that’s a lot. Maybe for anyone that’s a lot. But let me explain. I’ve been dating since I was fourteen, just you know, going to the movies, parties, dances, whatnot, at first. We stuck to the normal kid things. Now, I’m a couple of months from turning eighteen and graduating high school. I have gone on average one date a week, sometimes two. With how much we travel, it’s easy to get dates while abroad or even in a city in the states. I like to date. I like people. But I hate, hate, hate the fame and notoriety. So, my ultimate goal has been to find someone who I cannot stop thinking about and who only thinks about me… not my dads. As of yet, no luck.

I’m out of dating options at my school. I don’t even consider the boys at this point unless we have new recruits. I don’t date younger either, so anyone from the lower grades is off my radar. I’m not looking to train a boy how to kiss. And that’s all I do, just so you know. I’m not the kind of girl who gives it away to everyone. I am, in fact, a virgin because I believe in the stupid spiel about waiting for that special person. Do I plan on waiting until marriage? Heck no. Do I plan on waiting until at least after the third date? Heck yes. Have I ever had a third date with the same person?

Well, honestly, what do you think?