Chapter 51
While Javier sleeps, I sneak into the living room and start going through the box my dad gave me.
After I got it initially, I barely went through it, confused by why he was giving me a box of memories.
Since his death, I’ve been thinking about it more and more, but a little hesitant to subject myself to photos of us at a time when things were still good.
However, something continues to play over and over in my head.
When we were at Javier’s house and Dad asked to speak to me alone, he once again questioned whether I had that box.
He didn’t say anything else, but it feels important, and now it’s time to dive into it.
At first, it’s mostly photos I see, some framed, most not. There’s a few certificates from when I was in school—honor roll, first place in the science fair, and a character trait award.
I put them on the coffee table as I continue to search for something I feel like my father wanted me to find.
There’s a large manila envelope, but when I open it up and peek inside, it’s mostly old art projects from school.
Sketches, paintings—a talent I long forgot about when I was forced in a different direction.
I find my birth certificate, photos of me and my mom when I was a newborn, and pictures of them together, looking happy and in love. Mom died when I was one, so I never knew her, and Dad never talked about her. I sometimes wonder if things would’ve been different if she had lived.
As I empty the box, I begin to think maybe there wasn’t a secret message. Perhaps he just knew his time could come to an end and he thought I’d like to have these. I fall back into the couch with a sigh, running a hand through my hair.
“Hey,” Javier says, appearing through the hall.
“Hey,” I reply with a smile.
“What’s goin’ on in here?” he questions, looking at the mess all around me.
“My dad left me this box. Well, it was before. When he went to the safe house for the first time. Johnny had me pick it up.”
Javier sits next to me, wearing only his black tank and boxers. “This is why you were at The Kat that one time?”
“Yeah.”
“What is it?”
“Photos, school stuff, my birth certificate. I thought he wanted me to find something specific, but maybe not. I guess he just wanted me to have these.”
“What’s in here?” he asks, grabbing the manila envelope.
“Art. Stuff I created in high school.”
“Oh, right. I forgot you were an artist.”
I snort. “Not sure about that.”
Javier pulls out a few pages, flipping through them. One is a lighthouse amongst a rocky water shoreline with the sun setting in the background. Another is a black and white sketch of a guy’s face.
“Who’s this?” he asks.
“A guy in my art class. I might’ve had a crush.”
“What’s his first and last name?” Javier deadpans.
I choke out a laugh. “Oh stop.”
The other paper is more abstract, random objects melting and twisting amongst a rainbow of colors.
“Well, I don’t know much about art, but you were pretty good.” He reaches into the envelope again. “I’m not gonna pull out more photos of boys you were crushing on, am I?”
“I’m not sure,” I say with a laugh.
He makes an unamused face but pulls out a few more papers. “It’s nice that your dad kept all of this, maybe—”
A group of folded up papers falls from between the art, landing on the floor.
I reach down and pick it up, unfolding them to see what they are.
As soon as I see the writing, I know it’s my dad’s.
“It’s a letter from my dad,” I say quietly, scanning the words before fully absorbing them.
Javier puts the artwork down and sits back.
I begin reading.
Giancarlo,
Living this life means always straddling the line between life and death. I’ve known it from the beginning, but lately it feels like I’m tilting closer to death’s side, and I don’t want to go without you knowing a few things.
Don’t trust Johnny. I won’t go into it now, but if my death comes before his, don’t believe anything he says. Steer clear.
You and I didn’t have the best relationship, and that’s not news to either of us.
I’ve had plenty of moments to reflect and wonder if I could’ve done things differently, and while I’m sure there was a better option, I don’t regret keeping you safe.
I regret not getting to know you as you grew into a man.
I never told you this, because I held a lot of guilt about it, and because I was afraid it would turn you astray.
Ironic, considering later, I’d want to do just that.
However, your mother was killed because of what I do.
It wasn’t an accident, though it was made to look like one.
She was taken from us as a warning to me.
I was already in deep and I had crossed a line I shouldn’t have.
Her death kept me in line for a while. I was no longer the guy willing to push the buttons and bend the rules.
Doing that meant death, and not for me, but for those I loved.
When you were growing up, I was so happy to have a son.
A man who would grow up in the life just as I had—someone to follow in my steps.
I wanted this for you, and considering everything I know and have done, I’m not sure that makes me a great father.
You have to understand, I know nothing different.
Because I wanted this for you, I didn’t want to scare you off with the truth about your mother.
However, when I found out your truth, I was terrified.
Disappointed and angry, yes, but not for the reasons you may think.
I was losing the son that would take the reins.
Our relationship was going to die because I didn’t want you to.
I couldn’t bring you in and break the rules.
They wouldn’t stand for that. They’d kill you. Maybe me too.
A boss in the nineties was killed after the family heard he had been with both men and women. They said nobody will respect a homosexual crime boss. I feared for your safety in the life, I feared for it in the world in general. You’re my son, and I only want you to be protected.
I’m sorry I didn’t think about you being happy.
It came second to your life. Becoming a priest felt like a saving grace, and please excuse the irony there.
You’d be away at school for a while, you wouldn’t be caught with another man, and I hoped you’d stay far away from this life.
It was then I wished I had told you the truth about your mother, but you were already so stubborn, wanting to stick around, wanting to be like me.
It wouldn’t have worked, and this was the only way I could think of to keep you safe.
I’m sorry, Carlo. I should’ve done more. I should’ve at least talked to you and not let you think I hated you for who you are. I assumed it would help in keeping you away from me, but I’ve lived with the consequences my whole life. I’ve missed my son.
I’m going to ask you to do something I never thought I’d do.
The tides are coming in and I’m stuck in the sand.
I need you to take over. I need you to do better than I did.
I can’t have this family fall into Johnny’s hands.
I know I can trust you to do the best you can.
Hopefully it doesn’t come down to this. Maybe you’ll find this letter and I’ll still be alive and you’ll wonder what the hell I was even worried about.
Hopefully, if that’s the case, we can rebuild our relationship.
If not, know you can trust George. He’s old school, but he’s been loyal to me a long time.
He’ll listen to you and he’ll show you the ropes.
Javier is my right hand. I’ve had a good relationship with him and his father before him.
He’ll do whatever he can to keep you safe, and that’ll be my main concern.
If you step into this, you’ll need to be prepared for what’ll be thrown at you.
You’ll be forced to grow up, thicken your skin, and lay down the fucking law.
You will be boss. You tell them how it is.
Don’t let anyone intimidate you. You are a Gallo. You are capable of anything.
I love you, Son.
Stay safe.
Tears fill my eyes but they don’t spill over. I stare at the writing, scribbled in a hurry based on the sloppiness. Probably written last minute, when he knew Johnny was up to something, and thrown into boring personal effects that Johnny wouldn’t think twice about.
He thought he’d die when he went into hiding. He made it out, to Johnny’s dismay, I’m sure. He knew I hadn’t found the letter, and brought it up before thinking he could die again. He survived once more, only to die in front of me.
“Okay?” Javier asks, his hand resting on my back.
I nod, swallowing down the lump in my throat. I lift the papers. “Reiterating his wishes.” I swallow again, clearing my throat. “Told me the truth about my mom, which fueled his need to protect me by sending me away.”
Javier rubs my back, scratching lightly. “Was it bad?”
I look at him. “She was killed. They killed her as a warning to him. He said he was pushing too many buttons. Breaking rules.”
He scratches at his jaw, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”
I twist my lips to the side, fighting off a cocktail of emotions.
“He said he didn’t hate me for who I was, but hated that he had to lose me to protect me.
” I rub my forehead. “I thought maybe I could come in and run things a little differently. I thought I could hold on to my morality in some way.”
Javier nods along, humoring me if anything.
“But if I thought I could be myself and be with you…” I shake my head.
“They won’t have it, will they? They’ll doubt me at every turn.
They’ll undermine me, make jokes, and do everything they can to push me out of a role that my father wanted for me.
Did you know they killed a sitting boss for suspecting he was bisexual? ”
Javier nods. “Yeah.”
“So, what do I do?”
He’s quiet for a little while. “We don’t have to tell anyone. I’m used to keeping my personal shit to myself.”
I watch him, studying his handsome face while thinking over what to do.
“I’m gonna talk to George,” I say. “When do you think you’ll be healed enough for…anything that might come our way?”
His brows lift. “I can be ready whenever you need me to be.”
I put my hand on his thigh and squeeze. “Good.”