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Prologue
It’s the first time that I’ve ever flown on a plane and I have to go by myself.
My twelfth birthday is tomorrow and I’m going to meet my father. I didn’t even know his name until a few weeks ago.
Mama didn’t tell me that there was only one plane ticket until we got to the airport. I think she was concerned about how I’d react. She wanted to break the news in a public place.
But she shouldn’t have worried.
I know she tries hard to protect me from the bad things in life. Like how hard it is to get the money together for trips to the market or to keep the electricity turned on. This morning, there was a piece of paper on our front door from the landlord. I saw the words Notice to Vacate in large red print before she tore it down and balled it up in her fists.
I’ve already figured out that world doesn’t care about making things fair. Feeling sorry for yourself just holds you back from getting important things done.
My little sister, Felicia, is at home with our grandmother. I already guessed the truth when Mama didn’t say goodbye to her in the way she would if she were coming with me. Felicia is too young to tell the difference, but I can.
When Mama turns to me and puts a hand on my shoulder, I’m already expecting her next words.
“You have to do this alone. I wish I could go with you, my son.”
She hugs me, and I let her. Then I ask what sort of souvenir she wants me to bring back from America. If my reaction is a surprise, she doesn’t say anything about it.
So I pretend not to see the tears in her eyes and she doesn’t ask me if I’m going to be okay.
In my family, we don’t ask questions when we already know the answers.
It’s hard to say what emotion I feel as I sit in the dark cabin of the plane for the twenty hours it takes to fly across the ocean. I can’t see the water down below, but it’s strange to think of all that emptiness stretching out for thousands of miles. Only a bit of metal and engineering protects us from disappearing into that vast nothingness.
My seat is in the very back of the plane, but I have an entire row to myself. The flight attendant encourages me to sleep, but that seems impossible as I stare out into the black sky. My own blank face reflects back at me in the window glass.
It’s late in the morning when we land. The airport is crowded. I can’t remember if I’ve ever seen this many people in one place before. Panic rises as I wonder if my father will find me in this enormous crowd. Mama had already told me he wouldn’t meet me until after I claimed my baggage.
I force the feelings down. My eyes stay on my feet, focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
Being alone is only a problem if I make it one.
Instead of my father, a driver waits for me near the doors. He holds up a sign with my name on it. When I get to him, he tells me that he works for my family.
I want to tell him that my family is back in South Africa, but hold my tongue.
I’ve spoken to my father once on the phone when he introduced himself and informed me I’d be coming to visit him. Mama had never told me anything about him before that, just that they were only married for a short time and then divorced right before I was born.
If I ever asked her questions about my father, I don’t remember it.
Curiosity is as easy to ignore as any other feeling.
We drive down long winding roads lined with trees. My window is open slightly, wind blowing against my face. The scent of pine and cold air is sharp in my nose.
I focus on those other senses to keep my hands from shaking.
My father’s house is larger and colder than anything I’ve ever seen before. It looks big enough for a dozen families. I don’t understand how one man could be comfortable with so much empty space. It feels less like a home than the airport terminal did.
Anton Van Koch is also different than I expected.
He is dressed almost all in black, from his shiny shoes to the pressed shirt that he wears under his suit. The only spot of color is the bright red of his tie that he adjusts as he stands up from his desk when he notices me standing in the doorway of his office.
But he is also smaller than I thought he would be. I’m already tall enough to reach his chin and I’m overdue for my next growth spurt. Mama is tall for a woman, so I must have gotten my height from her.
I search my father’s features for anything familiar, but I don’t see any resemblance between us.
