Chapter 14 - MY FATHER FINALLY SPOKE
I did not let him inside immediately.
Mateo stood beside me.
My father looked directly into the security camera.
“I know I shouldn’t be here.”
“Then why are you?”
I asked through the intercom.
“I found something.”
He held up the wooden box.
“It belongs to you.”
I looked at Mateo.
He shrugged.
My decision.
I opened the door but kept the chain attached.
Dad looked older than he had six months earlier.
Not dramatically.
Just honestly.
For the first time, he looked like a man who understood that avoiding conflict had not made him peaceful.
It had made him complicit.
“What’s in the box?”
“Things your grandmother kept.”
“How did you get them?”
“Your mother had them.”
Of course.
He passed the box through the opening.
Inside were photographs.
Birthday cards.
School certificates.
Letters.
All mine.
Grandma had kept copies of everything.
At the bottom was a photograph of me at eight years old.
I was missing two front teeth.
Grandma was hugging me.
On the back she had written:
Lucía believes she is difficult to love because they keep making her earn it.
Someday I hope she learns they were wrong.
I pressed the photograph against my chest.
My father started crying.
“I saw that years ago.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“I saw what your grandmother wrote.”
“Then why didn’t you do anything?”
His answer took a long time.
“Because standing up to your mother was difficult.”
I stared at him.
“And standing up for me wasn’t worth the difficulty.”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
I hadn’t expected him to admit it.
“I kept telling myself I was keeping the peace.”
“But there was no peace.”
“You were paying for it.”
Every word hurt.
But for once, he wasn’t asking me to carry his guilt for him.
“I’m sorry, Lucía.”
I said nothing.
“I stole from you.”
“I lied to you.”
“I forged your name.”
“And when your mother hurt you, I stood there.”
His voice broke.
“I heard you scream.”
“I saw the blood.”
“And I was annoyed.”
He covered his face.
“I don’t know how I became that man.”
I did.
Slowly.
One cowardly choice at a time.
But I didn’t say it.
“Do you forgive me?”
he asked.
I looked at him for a long time.
“No.”
He nodded.
Tears ran down his face.
“I understand.”
“But I believe you’re sorry.”
He looked up.
“That’s all I can give you right now.”
“That’s more than I deserve.”
For once, my father didn’t ask me to make him feel better.
He turned to leave.
“Dad.”
He stopped.
I held up the photograph.
“Thank you for bringing this.”
He nodded.
Then he walked away.
Mateo closed the door.
“Are you okay?”
I looked upstairs toward Alba’s room.
May you like
“Yes.”
And this time, I meant it.
