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My uncle leans back in his chair and pulls his mouth to the side, then leans forward again and sighs. “Your father, in New York, has passed away in the early hours of this morning.”
The words wash over me, but I don’t process them fully.
For a moment my mind is completely blank.
My father.
The understanding hits me like a ton of bricks.
He is gone.
I'llnever have the chance to meet him. I'llnever stand in front of him and introduce myself as his son. I'llnever see him in flesh and bone and reality.
He is gone.
Any hope that I was holding onto of ever knowing who he really was has just been shattered.
I clear my throat, unsure about how I should react. My family has always made it clear they have a great distaste for him. They call him evil, brutal, cold, murderous - but he is my father. My loyalty is to the family who raised me. But he is my father. My blood.
“Antonio?”
“Thank you. I appreciate you telling me.”
“His funeral is going to be held tomorrow morning in New York.”
I nod. A funeral I can't go to. For a man I have never known.
My uncle is staring at me. Watching me closely. I lock my expression in place; he doesn't need to know the level of emotions sabotaging my insides.
I stand. “I have some work to attend to. Thank you again for taking the time to inform me in person.”
“It is no problem. Just be careful. The families in New York are undergoing intensive change now that he has passed away. We don’t know what to expect in the aftermath of this event.”
He speaks of it as though it is another business deal. The day-to-day ins and outs of things that we have to attend to. My jaw is tight, and I have to remind myself not to clench my hands into fists at my sides.
“I understand.”
I make my way out of the building, feeling dizzy and detached from reality.
I knew well that this day was coming, but somehow, I convinced myself that I would meet him before it happened. Even knowing that would never be the case. That hope still lived inside me. Now, it is gone forever.
I wanted to meet my father to discover that part of me I don’t know. I can feel him inside me. They tell me he is a monster, yet I'm half of him. I'm capable of everything that he is. I'm as ruthless as the stories they tell me about him. I have done things that match and even exceed his level of cruelty, yet they don't call me a monster.
My phone rings. It is my mother. For a moment I hesitate, not wanting to speak to her in this weird space my head is in.
But I sigh, sliding the green button across the screen to connect the line.
“Antonio, your uncle just called us and let us know the news.”
“Yes, he told me now as well.”
“I hope you don't feel bad for that man. I hope you don't let his death upset you.”
“Mama, I'm busy right now. Can I call you back another time?”
I don't want to talk about this with her.
“I know you are not busy, Antonio. I just want to make sure you are alright. That you don't let the death of that cruel man upset you. He doesn't deserve to have that effect on you.”
