15. Gia #2
The words echoed inside my head. Nothing else. Just those seven words. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even blink. Instead, my mind drifted somewhere else.
Pops was jogging behind me while I learned how to ride my bike. Giovani was standing off to the side watching us. A few minutes later, Pops waved him over.
“Come on, G. Your turn.”
I remembered asking why. I was the only kid, and moments like this I felt should have been reserved for me and my dad only. Pops smiled before answering me.
“Every little boy deserves to know how to ride a bike.”
Another memory surfaced….
I got a new pair of sneakers before school started. A few days later, Pops showed up at Ms. Gia’s apartment carrying another shoebox. I thought he was making sure Giovani didn’t feel forgotten. I thought that’s just who my father was. A man with a big heart.
Now… those memories didn’t feel generous anymore. They felt guilty. They felt intentional. They felt like a father trying to love a son he couldn’t claim. I looked back across the table. My throat had gone dry.
“You knew?”
I hoped that this was something she figured out after my dad had died or something. I was trying to make sense of this. But there was no making sense of this shit. Ghost was a year older than me.
“I’ve always known,” she nodded.
I sat there in complete silence. My father never claimed one of his sons.
His first son at that. Everything I thought I knew about my father was a lie.
The man I knew would have stepped up and openly taken care of what was his.
Theo Reynolds was a man who didn’t play that kind of shit.
Or so I thought. I could tell that Ms. Gia was trying to see how I would react to this information.
Honestly, I could have flipped this fucking table over if it was bolted to the floor.
Neither one of us spoke, and I couldn’t stop looking at her.
I had so many questions I wanted to ask, but I knew that if she answered one, I would find ten more behind that.
Finally, I found my voice.
“Does Ghost know?”
She slowly shook her head.
“No.”
I frowned.
“So, I’m the first person that you’re telling?”
“You are.”
I leaned back in my chair and rubbed a hand over my face.
“Damn.”
Another long silence settled between us. Then another thought hit me.
“Did my daddy know?”
Her answer came almost immediately.
“Yes.”
I stared at her.
“He knew?” I asked again for clarification.
She nodded.
“He always knew.”
I looked away for a second, trying to make sense of everything she’d just told me.
“So, my daddy cheated on my mama?”
The words felt strange coming out of my mouth. I felt like a little kid trying to find answers when, in all actuality, I was a grown-ass man that had just gotten hit with some devastating news. My parents had been married before Ghost was even born. Ms. Gia lowered her eyes.
“Well…” she paused for a long moment before looking back at me, “I’ve made mistakes I’m not proud of.”
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Messing with a married man is one of them.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Part of me wanted to defend my father. Maybe Ghost wasn’t his kid after all.
I wondered if they ever had a DNA test. There were so many fucking questions.
But when I really thought about it, I couldn’t defend shit because for all those years, he’d been taking care of Ghost behind the scenes.
After all, deep down he knew that was his son.
I used to really think my father was looking out for a kid from the neighborhood.
Now I know better. He wasn’t trying to help somebody else’s son.
He was trying to father his own, the best way he knew how without his scandal being revealed.
The whole thing made my chest feel heavy.
I loved my father. Nothing would ever change that, but if there was one thing I knew for certain after today was that I would never want my children to ever go through some shit like this.
When I became a father, my kids would never have to wonder who I was.
They’d never have to question whether I claimed them.
And they would never grow up learning the truth over a plate of shrimp scampi. I owed them more than that.
The rest of lunch passed in near silence. Our food eventually turned cold.
Neither one of us seemed to notice. Every now and then I’d pick at my shrimp, and she’d break off another piece of biscuit. Neither of us had much of an appetite anymore. When the waitress dropped the check off, I reached for it without saying a word. Ms. Gia looked up.
“Tahari…”
“It’s alright.”
I slid my card into the little black folder.
“I got it.”
She didn’t argue.
By the time we walked outside, the Florida heat wrapped around us again. I walked her over to her car before reaching for the driver’s side door and pulling it open for her. She stopped before getting in.
“Tahari.”
I looked at her.
“I hope you don’t hate me.”
The question caught me off guard. I shook my head.
“How could I?”
“I lied to you,” she said as she looked away.
“You did.”
Her eyes watered at my response. There was no denying that she had been lying to Ghost and me all our fucking lives. But she had done more for me than my own mama had.
“But you also took me in,” my voice softened, “when I ain’t have nobody, not even my own mama.”
My mother was a sensitive topic for me and always would be.
Just thinking about her did something to me.
The memory still made my stomach turn. The shit that she had put me through.
Whew, some wounds never completely healed.
I looked into Ms. Gia’s face and saw the hurt in it.
She had to know that she was more of a mother to me than my own had ever been.
“You gave me a home. You fed me. You loved me. You called me your son before I ever earned it.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “So no, I don’t hate you.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I could never,” I added.
She reached up and cupped the side of my face.
“Thank you.”
A sad smile crossed my face. She nodded slowly before saying the one thing I don’t think either of us was ready to hear.
“Then don’t hate your daddy either.”
I looked away. The breeze drifted through the parking lot while I searched for the right words. I loved my father. I always would. But loving him didn’t mean that I couldn’t hate him too. Loving him didn’t make this hurt any less. After a long moment, I looked back at her.
“That…” I let out a slow breath. “I’ma try not to.”
It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet. It was simply the best I had to give.