Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“I don’t know . . . uh, maybe to feel connected to who I am,” I replied sarcastically.
“Who you are is not your cultural heritage. It’s the choices you make and the actions you take.”
“See, I beg to differ. I have no idea about this whole side of me because you made sure I wouldn’t, and I’ve been so afraid of disappointing or upsetting you that I haven’t even learned to speak Spanish or visit Mexico, haven’t tried to connect to an integral piece of me, even when I’m held up as a role model in the Latinx community.”
“What do you mean connect to it? Everyone around you speaks English. You have no family that required you to speak Spanish. It would not have been a productive use of your time.”
“I have you!”
“And what would be the point in our conversing in Spanish?”
And there it was. Proof that my father just didn’t understand how to connect with his family. “For you! For me. Our heritage is something we have in common, and I know nothing about it!”
“What do you want to know?” My father yelled now, genuine emotion finally breaking through that granite facade of his. His accent, which was nonexistent these days, thickened with that emotion. “That my mother and father were immigrants who came to this country, worked hard to give us a good life, were the best parents a child could ask for, until one day my mother hid me in a closet when a stranger broke into our home and shot them to death for the money in their wallets?”
I stumbled back like I’d been shot.
My father cursed and gave me his back, his shoulders shuddering as he tried to gain control. Whatever I’d expected to find in this conversation that was long overdue, it was not such a painful truth.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”
He exhaled heavily, still not looking at me. “Why would you? Why would I tell you that? What use could come of it?”
“To share with me. To talk about it if you need to.”
“I don’t need to talk about it.” He turned to me now, and I knew he was lying to himself. If therapy had taught me anything, it was that you didn’t bottle trauma. Suddenly I felt like I was finally seeing my father for the first time. He was a product of his grief. Not dealing with it had made him who he was. “I was eleven years old.” My father shrugged. “It’s but a dream from another life.”
I didn’t believe that for a second. “How has this stayed hidden so long?”
“You mean how is it not public knowledge?”
I nodded.
“I buried it. Changing my name at eighteen helped. My real name is not Javier Ortiz.”
Holy shit. “What is?”
“That’s not information you require.” He looked at his watch. “I really do have a meeting, Christopher.”
Shaken, I could only nod.
Then my father shocked me even further by stopping in front of me. “I . . . I like control. I’m not a stupid man. I am self-aware enough to realize I like control. And sometimes I forget my son is a grown man and that he doesn’t need me to protect him anymore. I shouldn’t have visited Ms. Goodman today. It won’t happen again.”
“I appreciate that,” I forced out through the emotion clogging my throat.
“I still want you to consider one of my publishers for your book.”
And there he was.
I gave a huff of half frustration. “I’m handling it on my own.”
My father’s lips pinched in disapproval, but he nodded. “Fair enough. You can see yourself out, yes?”
And then he was gone, leaving me alone in his office, completely rocked by his revelations.
My cell rang in my pocket. Thinking it might be Hallie, I yanked it out even though I felt too off-kilter to hold a decent conversation.
It wasn’t Hallie. It was Darcy.
“Hey, I just wondered if you were in the city so we can grab a coffee?” she said after I answered.
“Uh . . .” Now wasn’t really the best time.
“I know it’s not a great time for you, but I need someone to talk to. Someone I trust.”
Hearing the vulnerability in her voice, I couldn’t turn her down. “Yeah, sure. Where are you?”
* * *
Hallie gaped at me after I was done telling her what had happened at my father’s office that day. After coffee with Darcy, I’d gone to collect Hallie from work. There I’d finally met her friend Althea, who seemed just as protective of her as I was, which was nice to know. She deserved to have the best people in her corner.
We didn’t talk about what had happened, however, until we were safely back in Hallie’s apartment. I still couldn’t believe what my father had revealed, and my disbelief was mirrored on Hallie’s face.
“Are you okay?”