Chapter 1 Parenthood #4
Antonio nods slowly, playing with the marker cap. "When we make mistakes… we say sorry."
"Exactly," Rava says. And now the room's quiet again. All three of us looking at each other.
He really thought Rava didn't kiss me because he was sick. That's the purest, dumbest, sweetest thing I've ever heard.
He's seen us so in love that, in his little head, the only thing strong enough to keep us apart, is illness. That's how I know I won.
"Should we say sorry now?" Antonio asks suddenly.
I laugh. "Why you, huh? What did you do?"
He glances around, shrugs. "I don't know."
I chuckle, shaking my head. "Then you're good, baby. You don't need to say sorry." He nods proudly.
I turn to Rava. "But I do. Dada told me to do something, and I didn't. I forgot. Like when I told you to pick up your cars and you didn't, and Blu chewed them."
Antonio giggles hard. "I should've listened better when Dada was talking," I say. Then I face Rava and exhale slowly. "Sorry, Dada. I wasn't paying enough attention. I didn't mean to."
Antonio's watching us like it's his favorite cartoon and the best part's coming. Rava's lips tremble a little, but he smiles. "I'm sorry too," he says quietly. "For snapping at you. I know you didn't do it on purpose." I grin.
Antonio throws his hands up. "Kiss!"
I lean forward, catch Rava's mouth in a soft, barely-there kiss, then whisper against his ear, "I'm sorry."
He laughs, instantly. The whole storm drains out of his face. Just warmth now. Antonio giggles and goes back to drawing, humming something off-key.
Rava picks up a marker again, smiling to himself. I watch him for a second. I press my lips to his forehead.
Antonio gasps. "Me too!"
We both lean in, me on one side, Rava on the other, and kiss his chubby little cheeks. He squeals, laughing.
The house feels full again.
4) That’s What Dads Do
Rava
Outside it’s… chaos. Rain is slamming on the glass violently, and lightning is tearing the sky open every few seconds.
It's loud, and pretty scary. Inside the café though, there's warmth. I'm tucked at a corner table with my laptop open, redoing the assignment that got absolutely baptized in milk a few days ago.
My fingers are cold but the cup between them is hot.
I'm drinking hot chocolate. Antonio's a few meters away, in the small indoor playground.
He's there with two other kids, yelling about who's the fastest down the slide. Gio's at a meeting today. New client, something big, I think. He deserves it. It still stuns me how he took over his father's company and turned it into something so strong, so... him.
Half of Italy's insured by Gio Fontana at this point, either openly or through someone who swears they're not.
Mr. Antonio Fontana would've been proud. I'm sure of it.
I look up just as my own Antonio comes running out of the play area. He runs straight to me. I close the laptop and open my arms. "Come here, bean."
He crashes into me, and he starts laughing so hard he can't breathe. I wrap my arms around him, holding him close, and he's... still laughing. "What?" I ask, smiling. "Why are you laughing?"
He can't even answer. Just wheezes out, "Bean!" like it's the funniest word on earth.
"Wait—you're laughing at bean?"
He nods. His face is red. And now he's full-on giggling. Everyone in the café turns to look.
It's contagious.
I start laughing too, even though I have no idea why.
That sound is my favorite thing in the world. Second only to Gio's laugh. They sound a little alike, actually.
I pull Antonio tighter, wrapping my coat around both of us until we're one warm bundle. "You're our little bean," I whisper against his hair. "Our sweet, tiny bean."
"Why do you talk like he's your kid?"
A very non-friendly voice. My heart jumps before my brain does. I turn my head slowly. A guy sitting alone at the table in front of us. Instantly, I reach for my headphones.
"Wanna hear the duck song again?" I ask Antonio softly. He nods, all smiles.
Good.
You'll hear it whether you want to or not, bean. No way I'm letting this idiot poison your ears. Then I look up. Straight at him.
"Hi to you too, sir. Something wrong?"
"I'm Nicola," he says. "Your husband never mentioned me?" Oh, shit. That's Nicola.
"Yeah, he mentioned you," I say while scanning him up and down. "Pretty much as I expected. What's the problem again?"
He nods toward Antonio. "That little bean of yours. He's not yours. The face is obviously Giovanni's. And I doubt you gave birth to him, so maybe stop lying to the kid."
I instantly freeze.
The café's warm, the mug is warm, Antonio, in my arms, is warm, but I feel so cold. Like my blood just stepped outside into the storm. Nicola keeps going. "You don't share blood. You're not his parent."
I smile. "Nicola, you ever donated blood?"
He squints. "Of course. What's your point?"
"Are you the father of those people now?" I ask, still smiling. "If I gave you my blood right now, does that make me your dad? Cause we share the same blood?"
He stares at me. "That's not the same."
"Right. My bad." I nod. "Hm. You got any pets?"
He sighs. "A dog. Make your point."
"It's mine," I say.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Your dog is mine. You didn't give birth to it. Neither did I. So what makes you its dad and not me?"
He laughs. "That's a dog, not a kid."
"Doesn't matter," I say quietly. "You take care of it. Feed it. Love it. Protect it. It loves you. Not me. That's what makes you its dad." He opens his mouth again. "That thing next to you isn't a dog."
"Exactly," I cut in. "And you know what? You're right. Gio gave the sperm. He did. But sperm doesn't feed him. It doesn't tuck him in or hold him when he's scared. We do. Both of us. He’s as much Gio's son as mine."
Nicola rolls his eyes.
I lean forward. "By your logic, every sperm donor and every rapist out there is a father.
Good luck explaining that to a kid who was adopted, telling them that the man who wipes their tears, who cheers for them every time they win, isn't their dad.
That their 'real' dad is the one who just came inside a hole or a cup and then just left them. "
I take a slow sip of my drink. "Next time, make sure your brain gets involved before your mouth does."
Nicola leans back in his chair. "Better be ready to protect him from the bullying he's gonna get," he says, smirking like he just said something clever.
I laugh. Then tilt my head, looking directly into his eyes. "How does it feel," I ask, "to be one of the people the rest of us have to protect our kids from?"
He doesn't respond.
"See," I keep going, "Gio and I work pretty damn hard.
And you can be sure of one thing. This kid right here won't care one fucking bit about what you, or anyone like you, thinks.
He'll grow up knowing love, safety, and truth.
Not fear and shame. Not whatever sad thing you're unfortunately made of. "
I stand up, start packing Antonio's crayons and toy cars back into his bag. "And yeah, I'll protect him from you. Because that's what dads do."
Nicola doesn't move. Just stares, maybe realizing too late that he picked the wrong person to mess with.
I sling the bag over my shoulder, push Antonio's hair back from his face. He's looking up at me.
He trusts me. That's all that matters.
I turn back to Nicola one last time, give him a slow once-over. "Anyway," I say, "you stay here. I guess that's fitting." Then I smile. "Merry Christmas, Nicola. Come on, bean."
I lift Antonio into my arms, his little hands clutching my coat. We walk to the counter, pay, and step out into the cold.
Rain hits us like silver needles, and he buries his face in my neck. Thunder cracks so hard the street seem to shake.
The flash comes first, and Antonio jumps so hard he almost drops his toy. His little hands clutch my coat.
"Hey, hey," I whisper, pulling him close as we duck under a shop's awning. I laugh softly, brushing his wet hair back. "Hey, bean! Remember what we said? When the lightning flashes, we count, okay? If we reach five before the boom, that means the storm's really, really far away."
He nods fast, arms tight around my neck.
Another flash. "Ready?" I grin. "Let's count."
He sticks his little fingers out, lips moving as he counts with me. One... two... three... four... five...
Nothing.
I exhale, smile wide. "See? We're safe. Nothing bad's gonna happen."
He relaxes just a bit. "What if Blu's scared? What if Daddy's scared?"
My heart squeezes. I shift him higher on my hip, so he's eye level with me. "Blu's probably curled up in his little bed with Lulu, remember? He's not scared when she's with him." I tap his nose. "And Daddy... hmm. Should we call him when we get home? Make sure he's not scared?"
Antonio grins through his sniffles. "YES!" Then he reaches up with those tiny hands and pushes my glasses back up my nose, carefully. "I love you, Dada," he says.
I smile, and I can feel my eyes burning a little. "I love you too, bean." And I mean it more than anything I've ever said.
Let Nicola and every Nicola rot in their own bitterness. This kid, and the one waiting to meet us soon, are gonna grow up so surrounded by love they won't even hear the hate.
We laugh together, loud enough to drown the rain. The storm can rage all it wants... it's got nothing on us.
5) The Dream Of The Innocent
Marco
Noah's halfway through tying his hoodie around his waist, and I'm trying to figure out if the leftover pasta's still good when the door slams open and Gio barges in holding Antonio like he's Simba.
"MACO! NOAH!" Antonio yells.
"MY BABY!" I yell back.
I'm gonna die. He's already giggling before I even settle him on my hip. Noah grabs his cheeks instantly like he's squishing a stress ball. "Why are your cheeks like this, huh? So SOFT. So EDIBLE. Can I eat you?"
Antonio squeals, "Noooo!" Laughing.
"Hmm... I'll think about it," Noah smirks. Gio's already pacing. "Okay, listen up, dumb and dumber."