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The car was quiet as Remy drove us back to New York. More than anything else, I thought about how he had found me. Had Dillon told him where I was? I couldn’t blame him if he did. Perhaps I would betray him too if it meant saving his life.
Did I hate him as much as I did Remy for taking me? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that my brother was returning me to prison.
For a while, I had escaped and lived my dream. But it was time to face what I had run from. It was time to face why I had ran.
After a night which included sleeping in the car, we re-entered the busy city streets of downtown Manhattan. Entering the building I no longer considered home, we parked. Following my brother to the elevator, we took it to the top floor. Using his key, the door opened spilling us out onto the foyer.
“Mother? Father? I’m home. I found him,” Remy said, leaving me to retire to his room.
Remy always did the dirty work. He never cared to see the result.
“Hil?” my mother said, appearing in the doorway at the end of the hall. “Oh my God, Hil! Where have you been?” she said, running and throwing her arms around me.
“I was away having a life, Mother. That’s where I was. I’d found someone who loved me and a world where I could fit in. Why did you all bring me back here?”
“It was your father. He needs to see you,” she told me, still holding me tightly. “And, you need to see him.”
“I don’t want to,” I confessed, feeling ashamed.
“I know you don’t. But you have to. No matter what else he has done, he’s still your father. If you let this time slip away, you’ll regret it. I’m telling you as a person filled with regrets,” my mother said, letting me go, yet staring me in the eyes.
If there was anyone who I took after in the family, it was her. Her loosely curly hair was speckled with gray. Her fair skin, freckled.
In spite of being an age past what most men chased after, everyone still stared at her. It was a point of pride for my father. It made him feel like a big man.
But what I admired most about my mother was her kindness. She was able to love a man who most people couldn’t. Past that, she was able to love me. Not even I was capable of doing that.
“See him,” she said holding my hand in hers.
“Mother…”
“Please, for me. Talk to your father,” she requested in the way that I could never resist.
Knowing that there was no way I could escape it, I went to the place I knew he would be. Entering what used to be his office, I looked across the room and saw him. He was in worse shape than I could have imagined.
It wasn’t one of his rivals who was bringing him down, it was something none of us could have imagined. One day while watching a football game, he had a stroke. That would have been nothing if he hadn’t then had another and still another.
When he could no longer stop us from doing what we had to, we took him to the doctor. It turned out that he had cancer. That was what was causing the strokes. He wasn’t given long to live.
Soon, the man I grew up thinking was indestructible was going to be gone. That was what had caused me to run. I needed to prove to him that I was going to be fine without him. I needed to show him that I was capable of more than he thought I was.
“Hil, is that you?” he asked too weak to hide his French accent.
“Yes, Father. I’m here.”
“I missed you, son. Where have you been?” he asked showing the side of him that I had rarely seen.
“I was…”
How did I explain to him what I was doing? The answer was that I was everything. I was loving. I was living, I was experiencing things I thought I never would.
“I was forging a new life for myself. One where you wouldn’t have to worry about me.”
“That’s not possible. I will always worry about you,” he said with a fragile smile.
“But, Father, you always had that wrong. I’m capable of taking care of myself,” I insisted.
He dismissed me with a shake of his head.
