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“No. The name was not a familiar one, as I told him when we first met,” Bunny said.
“What about your father?”
“I never met him,” I said, but I wanted to scream, you my father, nigga. “And as far as I know, I don’t have any other family here.”
“I can’t say that I know of any Black’s on the island now,” Fenton said.
“How’s your family, Fenton?” Bunny asked.
“They’re fine,” he said and reached for his wallet. He pulled out a picture of his wife and children. “The boys are growing into men and Scarlett,” he laughed. “She is just into everything. Follows me everywhere,” he said and handed me the picture and I got to see my two brothers and adorable little sister. “She wanted to come here with me.”
“That’s a beautiful family you have, sir,” I said and handed him back the picture.
“You married, Mike; any kids?”
“No, sir. Not married and no kids.”
So, no, nigga, you don’t have a daughter-in-law and you don’t have any grandchildren, I thought, but thought better of saying.
I drained my glass and stood up.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Fenton.”
He stood up, shook my hand and looked me in the eyes.
“I can’t help but think I know you from someplace.”
“I got that feeling as well,” Bunny said.
“Anyway, it was good to meet you too, Mike,” he said to me and I left.
Now I’m ready to go back to New York.
Chapter Twelve
I caught a cab back to my hotel and asked the concierge to find out when the next flight to New York was leaving the island. I had done what I came here to do, so it was time to go. Okay, I admit, it damn sure didn’t go like I thought it would. I thought he would have at least remembered who my mother was, but he didn’t.
Over the years, I’ve looked enough men in the eyes and known when they were lying, and he wasn’t lying to me.
He didn’t remember my mother at all.
I mean, what reason would he have to lie about it?
He didn’t remember my mother at all.
I sat down on the bed and thought about how fucked up that shit is.
My father doesn’t remember my mother.
And if that was the case, what was the point in telling him that he was my father?
None!
That’s what point, none!
There was no point telling that man that I was his son by a woman he doesn’t even remember and then try to convince him that he really is my father. I didn’t come here for that. If he had remembered her, cool, then I would at least have a place to start the conversation. But he didn’t.
He didn’t remember my mother at all.
