AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Looking up from his large mahogany desk, a bright smile spread across his face.
“Dillon! It’s good to see you. Are you here because you’ve considered my proposal?”
Was that why I was here? That’s right, it was. I nodded. “Yeah. Did you drive to work today?”
Remy looked puzzled. “I did. Why?”
“Could you drive us somewhere? There’s a place I want to show you.”
Remy agreed, curiosity in his eyes. Walking to his expensive black car, I directed him to Pitkin Avenue in Brownsville. As we pulled up in front of an abandoned two-story building with broken windows and weeds snaking up the brick walls, Remy stared at it confused.
“This is the place?” he said looking up at it through the windshield.
A cold sweat layered my hot skin. I forced myself to speak.
“Yes, this building was where my father lived before he died. He lived here with his family.”
Remy frowned glancing between the decrepit building and me.
“But I don’t understand. Why put an outreach center here instead of an old YMCA or something? Wouldn’t somewhere with more space be better?”
I clenched my fists in my lap gathering the courage to continue. Tears flooded my cheeks despite my efforts. Remy’s heartbroken gaze was too much to handle. When he reached out to comfort me, I rejected his touch and pulled myself together.
“No, Remy, hear me out.” My voice choked forcing me to swallow and regain focus. “I was the product of an affair. My father cheated on his family with my black mother. He never wanted to have me and I always believed that he couldn’t accept me because…” I held up my caramel-colored arms. “Because was I too dark.”
My voice wavered as a humiliating memory rushed back.
“So often when my father was alive, I would come here and stand across the street staring up into his lit living room windows. Watching as the people he loved went about their night, I would wonder how it was he could treat his real family so well while pretending I didn’t exist.
“I even tried to confront him about it once. Waiting for him where I always stood, I saw him walking up and called his name. When he saw me, he practically ran into building and locked the door behind him.
“It wasn’t like he didn’t know who I was. Everyone knew he was my father. I was born four blocks away. Yet, he wanted nothing to do with me. So, if there’s anywhere in the city that needs to be redefined from hurtful to helpful, it’s this place.”
Remy’s fists clenched the steering wheel trying to suppress his boiling anger toward my dead father. His voice was calm but strained when he finally spoke. “Do you want me to burn this place to the ground so you never have to look at it again?”
I shook my head with my eyes pleading. “No! I want this place to give others the support I couldn’t get from it.”
Remy nodded, seemingly pacified by my words. His aggressive demeanor gave way to determination. “I understand. I’ll buy it, and we’ll make this place into something better. Have you given more thought to whether you’d like to help me create it?”
As I considered his question, a smile spread across my face. “I have.”
Chapter 8
Remy
Lying in bed alone, staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t shake Dillon’s story from my mind. I kept replaying the anguish and hurt in his voice as he shared his experiences as a kid. It broke my heart.
It also made me think about my own father – a man who had always been there for me and unquestionably loved me. He was the total opposite of who Dillon’s father was. Dillon and my experience growing up couldn’t be less alike. Yet there was a part of me that could identify with Dillon’s pain.
How could I, though? I had everything the world says you need – wealth, power, privilege. I desired for nothing. Dillon had nothing. So to say that I could identify with his pain was beyond laughable; it was offensive. And every time that thought crossed my mind, it was followed by a wave of guilt.
Despite that, there it was, a feeling that I, a hot, rich, white guy who grew up with a loving father and everything I could ever desire, felt as much pain as Dillon, a guy who grew up poor, black, and rejected by his father. It wasn’t right, but it felt true. How could it be?
There was an itch in the back of my mind that brought my thoughts back to my father’s expectations for my life. Yeah, I know, boohoo, my rich, loving father was demanding. I knew I had no right to compare my pain to Dillon’s but…
Rolling over, burying my face in the pillow, I tried to smother my thoughts away. As I did, the image of Dillon’s wounded expression haunted me. I was sure I knew his pain. How, though? I was about to shut off my feelings like I had so many times as a kid when something hit me. I had an idea.
Seeing Dillon already in the office when I arrived the next day, my heart raced. Despite our previously painful conversation, I couldn’t keep my eyes off his beautiful caramel skin and unruly curls. But swallowing hard, I put my idea into action.
