Richie and Fonzie ️‍🔥️‍🔥️‍🔥

My father was a ghost long before I even understood what it meant. He walked out on us when I was five, and I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard from him since. No birthdays, no calls, and not a dime of child support.

Nice, right?

But my mom? She’s been my everything. And it’s been the two of us against the world, and somehow, she has always made it work. And honestly, this woman has sacrificed so much to give me a shot at everything I’ve ever wanted to pursue. Out of all the things that I’ve wanted to try my hand at, music was my absolute love.

Music had always been my escape. Especially the piano. My mom had enrolled me in lessons when I was little, and from then on, I was just hooked. My dream was to compose my own music, but for me to do that I needed a professional-grade digital piano.

The problem?

Those things are expensive. Like proper, expensive.

And while mom and I weren’t living in poverty, we weren’t exactly rolling in cash, either. Being a single mom and a nurse, my mother went out of her way to ensure that I could keep playing. Recently she had started working extra shifts wherever possible, cutting corners where she could, just so that I could keep playing.

More than that, even though she came home exhausted, she never complained about the long hours or the money. My mom simply believed in me.

“Lexie,” she would say. “You’re just seventeen. And to have found something that you’re so passionate about at your age is amazing. Not to mention that you have real talent here, it’s not just a whim. You have a dream and you can get to it. I’ll do everything I can to help you achieve it.”

Fast forward to graduation.

I wasn’t expecting anything other than a cake, which was our tradition at the end of every school year. I knew how hard my mom worked just to keep everything going, and there was no way I’d want anything else from her.

“I’m serious, Mom,” I said one night over dinner. “I don’t want anything for graduation. I promise you, I understand the situation and I’m more than grateful for your support.”

“Oh, darling,” she said, giving me a spoonful of mashed potatoes. “I’m your mother, it’s my job.”

“I know, but I want you to know that I don’t expect anything,” I said.

We went to my graduation ceremony, and my mother bawled her eyes out when it was my turn to walk the stage.

“My darling girl,” my mother said after the ceremony as she enveloped me in a tight hug. “I am so proud of you!”

The real surprise came when I walked into our home that afternoon. There it was, my dream piano.

A high-end digital piano, complete with every feature that I needed to start composing. I couldn’t believe it. I actually cried.

It wasn’t about the piano itself, it was about how much my mother sacrificed for my dreams.

Naturally, I posted about it on social media because I was over the moon. I tagged my mom because she was the one who dreamed and inspired me. I wrote a long heartfelt caption about how she was truly the best mom in the world.

My post got tons of likes and comments, and honestly, I was just happy to share this moment with my mother. She deserved all the credit.

“Mom, I don’t know what to say,” I told her that evening as we sat outside on the porch together.

“Baby girl, I told you. I’m your mother, this is my job,” she said.

Then, a few days later, something weird happened.

I got a text from one of my dad’s old friends. He was someone I hadn’t heard from in years. He congratulated me on graduating and then casually mentioned how generous my dad was for buying me such an amazing gift.

My stomach dropped immediately.

“What?” I muttered.

At first, I thought that he must have been confused. But then I saw the post that made it all make sense.

My dad, the same man who hadn’t shown up for my graduation or acknowledged my existence in years, had re-posted my story on socials.

Onto his own page!

And of course, he captioned it like it was his moment. Like he had bought me the piano and had been the supportive dad all along.

So proud of little girl! I’ve always believed in your dreams. This is just the beginning!

I was shocked. The actual nerve of this man was insane.

I just stared at the screen in shock. This was a guy who hadn’t paid a cent in child support, who hadn’t called to check in. Even when I was twelve and I fell off a tree and had broken my arm? My mother had told him, but he didn’t bother to see me at the hospital or after.

“I just want him to sign my cast,” I remember telling my mother.

“I know, Lex,” my mother said, rubbing my arm. “But he doesn’t seem to care.”

So this? This was absurd.

“This man needs to pay child support,” I muttered.

But I didn’t know how to go about it. I didn’t want to embarrass him on socials because I couldn’t risk rocking the boat before those payments were settled.

Still, I was fuming inside, waiting for the day his lies would catch up to him.

Turns out, karma was already in motion.

About two weeks later, my mom and I went to a community event. It was one of those things where everyone in town shows up because it was a charity event to raise funds for the community theater.

At one point, we were chatting with a group of people, when a random guy came forward to talk to us. He started talking to my mom like they were old friends, and then he turned to me.

“Lexie!” he said excitedly. “I’m Ralph, I work with your dad! That’s how I recognized you, he’s been posting photos of you recently. He’s very proud. And that piano he got you for graduation? Wow! That was a real show of support, huh? You’re a lucky young lady.”

I felt my mom tense next to me. She didn’t even blink.

“Oh, you must be terribly mistaken, Ralph. My ex-husband hasn’t paid child support in years. He had nothing to do with the piano or any part of his daughter’s life, really.”

“Yeah, we’re looking at outstanding child support for about what, Mom? Thirteen years now?” I said.

The man’s face went from smug to confused.

“I’m sorry… what?” he said.

My mom didn’t let up though.

“The piano was a gift from me. I’ve been working extra hours to make sure that my daughter has everything she needs for her music career. Her father didn’t contribute at all.”

Poor Ralph just stood there, speechless.

It turns out that this man wasn’t just my dad’s coworker. He was my dad’s boss.

My dad had been spinning this tale for months, talking about how he was this amazing, supportive father who did everything for his daughter.

Well, not anymore.