by Sloan Storm
“Dr. Chen just came by,” my mother said. “It looks like they’re going to start dialysis within an hour.”
I nodded. “I guess we’ll have to hope for the best.”
We stood there in silence for a few moments.
“Kinda surprised you got here as soon as you did, Dani,” my brother, Scott, said.
I frowned at him.
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged.
“Nothing.”
I bit my lip, wanting more than anything to avoid starting something with him. I let the comment slide by. Or at least, that was my intention, until Michael decided to take a shot at me as well.
“You knew that he wasn’t feeling well,” he began, pointing at my mother. “Mom even told you so. But you couldn’t even be bothered to pick up the phone.”
I glared at him, teetering on the edge of giving him a tongue lashing.
“How was I supposed to know…” I said, straightening my arm and pointing towards the ICU. “That he was going to wind up like that? No one could have known that, Michael, so don’t start with me.”
“God, you’re such a bitch,” Scott muttered under his breath.
I snapped my head in his direction.
“What?” My voice was loud enough to capture everyone’s attention.
“You heard me,” he snarled.
I pointed at him.
“How dare you! Where the hell do you get off talking to me like that, Scott? Do you have any idea…”
My mother stepped between us, interrupting me.
“Enough. Enough!”
In the next instant, she grabbed hold of my forearm and tugged on it.
“Come with me, Dani.”
Before walking away, I scowled at both of my brothers and shook my head. Their behavior didn’t surprise me. It disappointed me. Whether we got along or not, I was prepared to put all that aside for my dad’s sake but obviously, they weren’t.
My mother and I walked along for about a minute or so without a word. Finally, we passed through a set of large double doors at the front of the hospital and made our way outside. We stopped, and my mother gestured in the direction of hospital.
“Your brothers…” she began, shaking her head. “They’re just upset.”
“What? I’m not?” I snapped, crossing my arms at my chest. “Why is their behavior acceptable and mine isn’t, Mom?”
“I didn’t say that it was, Dani. Did I?”
“Well, you might as well have. They know how busy I am. So do you. They’re acting like I don’t care about Dad.”
My mother shook her head and flicked her wrist, dismissing my statement.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Dani. You’re overreacting.”
I turned away from her, looking up towards the sky and exhaling.
“Anyway, Dani, we’ve got bigger issues to discuss than a little argument with your brothers.”
Without turning around to face her, I replied, “What things?”
My mother cleared her throat.
“Well, for starters, dialysis isn’t cheap and what’s more, nothing about this hospital visit has been either.”
Curling my fingers into fists, I closed my eyes for a moment before turning around to face her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
But I really didn’t need to ask the question. The answer was all over my mother’s face.
“That’s your father in there, Dani. You shouldn’t need any other reason than that to help.”
“Uh!” I exclaimed, slapping the outsides of my thighs with my palms. “I don’t want to rehash this with you. Just because you and Dad didn’t have the discipline to save and prepare yourselves doesn’t mean I should have to step in and pay for everything. That’s especially true considering how awful all of you are to me.”
My mother scoffed. A disdainful chuckle sputtered from her lips.
“Your father is fighting for his life, Dani. And all you care about, the only thing that matters to you, is money.”
“No it is not! I never said that. Quit putting words in my mouth!”
For an instant, it looked like my mother was about to cry.
I pointed at her.
“No. You don’t get to play the victim here.”
The sad look on my mother’s face turned dark. She regained her composure before responding.
“The only victim here is your poor father, Dani.”
I looked away from her, shaking my head in disgust. She started to say something else but I turned towards her and cut her off.
“I don’t want to hear another word from you about this. Do you understand me, Mom? Just because I didn’t turn out to be the subservient woman you did, it doesn't make me a bad person for living my life on my own terms.”
“Why you…” my mother uttered.
“No, Mom,” I interjected, waving my hand in front of her face. “Look what that got you. The only reason you’re standing here right now is because you relied on a man to take care of you. And now… Now what? You come running to me, expecting me to just forget the way all of you have treated me, especially in the past few years?”
“Stop it. Stop it right now, Dani!”
“I will not!” I replied, stomping my foot. “I’m not going to apologize for what I’ve achieved, and I’m not going to be made to feel guilty because you made poor choices in your life.”
No sooner had I finished speaking those words than my mother grimaced. In what seemed like a fraction of a second she…
Slapped me.
I recoiled, the heat from the strike stinging my skin. On instinct, I reached up and covered the spot with my hand. My mother stepped back, glaring at me. Shocked, I looked at her through eyes made watery by the impact. My breath came in gulps, and my chest heaved.
“Don’t you ever speak to me like that again, Dani,” my mother warned.
I dropped my hand away from my face and just shook my head at her. Without saying a word, I turned my back on her and began to walk away.
“Dani!” my mother called out. “Come back here! Your father needs you!”
I stopped. Spinning in her direction, I marched straight towards her. My mother’s eyes widened. She staggered back while I pointed at her.
“I’m finished with all of you. Do you understand me? Never contact me again.”
With that, I turned away from her once more. The first step was the hardest. The emotion of the moment nearly caused my knees to give way. My mother never said a word. It was all the confirmation I needed. I was done with them, for good. I wish I could’ve said the same about my heart. Once the tears started, I had no idea how long they might last, but it didn’t matter.
I stormed away, determined to never give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry them.
MARCO
After arranging Dani’s trip, I spent the next day handling team business. Training for the new season was on the horizon. The team had its own protocol, but over the past few years, I’d learned it was equally important to establish my own system, if not more so.
Driving at the highest levels demands everything of you. While I had trust in the mechanics and the technology behind our cars, being race ready really came down to individual excellence. I didn’t make my way to Formula One to just be another driver.
Over the next couple of years, I had every intention of showing it.
I’d worked hard to assemble a support team around me, a group focused solely on making sure I was the best I could be. It was a mindset I carried into all aspects of my life, including my finances. Would Dani be able to deliver and help me achieve maximum results?
I had no idea. Time would reveal everything.
After arriving home, I made my way to my bedroom, determined to at last, deal with the mystery of the strong box. Five minutes later, the last lock clicked open and I removed it, placing it on top of my dresser.
Taking one last second, I tried to imagine what might be inside. Knowing my father,
it could’ve been almost anything. I shook my head, grabbed hold of the lid, and cracked it open. The old hinges on the back of it squeaked and popped.
Once I opened it as far as it would go, I looked down inside and saw…
Nothing.
At least, nothing of interest. Reaching within, I sorted through piles of non-Earth-shattering junk. There were some pictures of me and other mementos of my childhood. Other than that, there were photos of my father’s family, along with news clippings about his various business successes over the years.
“Why did he give me this thing?” I muttered, glancing around the random collection of items.
I exhaled and reached for the lid, starting to close it once again. However, just before I slammed it shut, I noticed a manila envelope poking out in one corner. Frowning, I reached for it and pulled it out of the box for closer examination. Once I removed it, I turned it over to see it was held closed with a clasp. I began to open it, bending the clasp which held it closed. Before long, I peeled back the top of the envelope and reached inside.
Turning away from the dresser, I walked towards my bed while removing the contents. I spun around, sat down on the mattress, and after tossing the envelope aside, I looked down at what I’d taken out.
There were two handwritten letters, one in my father’s penmanship and another whose writing was unfamiliar to me. Beyond that, there was an official looking document with the words ‘Adoption Certificate' stamped across the top of it.
Grimacing, I shook my head and turned my attention to the letter with handwriting I didn’t recognize and started to read.
My dearest Antonio,
I think you and I know that this day has been coming for a very long time. I’d hoped we could find a way to make things work between us, but the time for that to happen is long gone.
I don’t blame you for hating me.
Maybe, in time, you’ll come to understand why I had no choice.
Believe it or not, I never intended for things to happen the way they did between me and Mauricio. But what’s done is done. He makes me happy in ways that I hoped you would many years ago. He’s not a slave to his job, and as I’ve grown older, I realize there’s more to life than the pursuit of money for its own sake.
That said, I’ve agreed to do as you asked… and so has Mauricio.
We’ve both signed the adoption papers.
I know that you are a man of your word, Antonio. I hope that you will do as you have promised and send us the money.
You have my address.
I hope that someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
Just know that I’ll always have a special place in my heart for my son and for you as well, Antonio.
Please take care of my son. It pains my soul, having to part with him under such circumstances.
I will never be able to live these feelings down.
I suppose I don’t deserve to.
Always,
Claudia
Dumbfounded, I placed the letter down and reached for the adoption certificate. I scanned it, trying to connect it to the cryptic references in the letter. It didn’t take long. The document listed the parties involved in the adoption.
The biological mother, Claudia Franco.
The biological father, Mauricio St. Pierre.
The adoptive father, Antonio Rhys.
The child’s name, Marco St. Pierre.
My mind went blank.
Dropping the certificate from my hand, I shot to my feet and ran my hand through my hair.
“What the fuck?” I began, now pacing back and forth across my bedroom. “It couldn’t be… there’s just… it’s not possible.”
While I walked, I closed my eyes, trying like hell to remember anything about my childhood. How could I not have known about this? Someone, somewhere, had to…
But who?
“No,” I muttered, shaking my head. “This is impossible.”
I walked back towards my bed once again. But this time, I picked up the letter in my father’s handwriting, hoping that for once in my life I would get some truth from him.
MARCO
Marco,
If you’re reading this letter, it means that my time on Earth has come to its end. Looking back on my life, I’ve made many decisions. Of course, there were a few I later regretted - a great deal.
The biggest one of all, however, is that I didn’t do more to be a part of your life. It seems pointless as I write this letter to try to explain all of the reasons why that happened, since so much of it will only ring with the hollowness of excuses.
At the root of all of it was my drive to become successful and achieve my goals at any cost. That mindset defined who I was from my earliest memories. What’s more, for much of my life, those pursuits gave me satisfaction and pride.
However, as my days draw to a close, I’ve realized the greatest source of joy had nothing to do with money, or power, or any of those things that turn to dust when we’re gone - just like we do.
No, the greatest source of my pride is the man holding this paper and reading it right now.
That’s you, my dear son.
I wish that I could have found the courage and the strength to tell you not only how much I loved you, but also the truth about who you really are.
But I worried that doing so would only drive you and me further apart from each other. Over the past few years we’ve spoken so rarely that I just couldn’t take that chance.
I hope that you can forgive me.
I could fill pages with praise for you and all of the amazing things you’ve achieved in your short lifetime, but I would understand if you didn’t want to hear a word I had to say.
If I could give you one piece of advice, it’s that if you should ever have children of your own, don’t wait to make them a priority. Before you know it they'll be grown, and you’ll be where I am now, at the end of my life and filled with regret.
I wouldn’t wish it on anyone… especially you, Marco.
Obviously, if you have opened this envelope you’ve also come across the other contents.
I want to explain those as well.
You deserve that much.
Your mother and I met when I was striving to build my empire. The truth is she never was a priority during that time. I did what I could to tell her I cared, but in the end, showing is more important than telling.
In any case, your mother came to me one day and told me she was pregnant.
It was the first time in my life I’d actually thought about anything other than my own goals… my own achievements.
At first, I won’t pretend, I was in shock. I don’t know very many people who are truly prepared to bring a child into the world.
In spite of having made millions, I knew I wasn’t.
I was terrified.
Even so, my initial apprehension faded. As the days wore on, I grew more excited about the prospect of becoming a father. At the same time, your mother withdrew from me, becoming distant.
Her behavior baffled me.
No matter what I did to try and bring us together over the joy of your birth, nothing helped. Finally, I went away on a business trip for about a week, and when I came home I found her in our bed, crying.
I’ll never forget it.
I approached her and sat down on the bed.
She looked up at me, her face filled with an expression of grief. It was then I discovered why she didn’t share my excitement over your birth.
The adoption certificate should fill in the rest of the story for you.
Yes, I neglected your mother, but in the end I raised you as my own and loved you that way.
Maybe I should’ve told you… it doesn’t really matter now.
All that does matter is that you know the truth about who you are and where you come from.
Even though I might not be your biological father, I loved you just the same.
I hope that this information doesn’t cause you to hate any
of us… whether it’s me, your mother or your true father. We were all young once, and mistakes come easily during those years. It’s not the mistakes that define us though, it’s what we do to make them right.
You’re free to think of me what you will, Marco.
Just know that I always think of you as my son.
Love always,
Your father
When I finished reading the letter, my vision blurred. After the initial shock wore off, I began wondering about the strange names on the adoption certificate.
Who were these people?
Did they know about me? They would have to… Right? I picked up the adoption certificate. I wondered how hard it would be to find them, assuming they were still alive. I didn’t even know where to begin. I exhaled and placed the letter from my father on top of the other documents. A few seconds later, I gathered up the letters and the certificate and walked back towards the strong box to put everything away.
Still in disbelief, I stood there shaking my head while I filled the box back up with the pictures and mementos I’d taken out of it. Last, I picked up the manila envelope, put the letters and certificate inside and placed it on the very top of the stack.
Grabbing the lid, I started to close it when something caught my eye inside of the box. Along one of the interior walls, which faced in the direction of my bed, I noticed a small object. Something didn’t seem right about it. It was modern. Plastic.
And blinking.
“What the hell?” I said, muttering and reaching for it. It was small, round and stuck to the interior wall of box. For a few seconds, I attempted to pry it loose, but it wouldn’t budge.
Letting go, I removed my arm from the inside of the box and stepped away, trying to locate it through the front, which had series of holes lining it. After a couple of seconds, I saw it covering one of the holes and leaned in, studying it more thoroughly. Extending my index finger, I inserted it into the hole containing the object and pressed against it.
It felt hard and smooth, like glass. I pushed harder, and eventually the object popped loose. I looked over the edge of the box once again, reaching down inside and grabbing the object for closer examination. It was barely the size of a quarter and about as light. I pinched it between the tips of my fingers and pulled it out.