Chapter 30- Lucien
School had let out early and my father had waited in the schoolyard. The wind had stirred up leaves. Walking out with a lunch box in hand, I scanned and found my father waiting.
“Papa!”
Usually, my father was away on business and it was my mother picking him up. He had been casually reading a newspaper but the minute he saw me, I had his attention.
“How was school?”
He had taken my hand in his and led me to his car.
I hadn’t known at the time that my father was head of the Bratva, that that was why he was always away on business. That that was why there were always scary men around me and mama.
“Not fun,” I had replied.
He chuckled and waited for me to get into the car.
“You must learn Lucien. Reading and writing and math, so that one day you can have a better life than what I have. Okay?”
“Okay, papa,” I had snuggled into his side.
“How about we see a movie?”
“Just us?”
“Just us…I have to leave on business tomorrow but I wanted to spend time with my favorite boy. Soon your brother will be here.”
Everything after that was a blur.
We saw the movie.
We ate the stale popcorn.
It was just the two of us.
My father had sent his driver home as the movie theater was just around the corner from our apartment. Walking out of the movies, we made a right and headed towards home.
The sun was starting to go down when a shot rang out and blasted through the air. People screamed and ran. We stopped for some reason, and it was only then that I felt something on my face and heard a gurgling sound coming from my father.
I could still remember watching blood pool through the white shirt. It was like someone had dipped a paintbrush in water, touched red watercolor paint, and then placed it on paper.
He collapsed, my mind still trying to figure out what was going on. But I saw him. I saw the man who had killed my father. He was young and scrawny and had been to our house many times. He realized what he had just done, tucked the gun away, and then ran.
I stood there screaming until someone dared approached but by then it was too late.
My father was gone.
Simone splashed and it caused me to slip out of the memory that had been with me for years. She came up to me and held my face between my hands. The sorrow in her eyes was like needles stabbing at my skin.
“I am so sorry,” she said. “Did they ever catch this man?”
Tell her…
Make her understand…
Make her stay.
“No. They never caught him,” I said softly. “But year’s later …after enough time had passed. I discovered who the man was.”
