“WHO'S MY FATHER THEN?”

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Submitted Date 12/27/2018
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Ray always seems to feel sorry for everything. Absolutely everything. It’s like he has taken on the weight of the world. He is apologetic when it rains. Once, he begged to be forgiven for being late. When escorted by a guard from a cell, it is not really your responsibility to make it on time.

But, he feels content taking on all of the world’s grief. It’s like he is trying to right more wrongs than any one human should ever even attempt. He doesn’t say any of this but his constant look of forlorn misery when he feels that I am disappointed does prove to me – at least helps convince me – that he really did come to prison because he thought he was doing the right thing for me.

At some point, the conversation ends up back at the cabin on the night of the fire. This both of our least favorite topic but a very important one, of course. We both withdraw from the table and slump when we talk about the evening that everything changed.

“Can you really not think of anyone else who could have killed them? Well, helped, that is...?”

“I really and truly can’t. You know, your father – Mike – was a socialite and his family hated ours. Not good enough for them or for their Mike. However, they would not have done that. They had way too much to lose if it came out and while they seemed arrogant, conceited and downright obnoxious they never struck me as killers.”

“Was my father really Mike?” I ask from out of absolutely nowhere. It’s tortured me my whole life that his family did not take me and did not want me but I have come to realize that things almost never are the way that they seem… especially in my family.

Ray lowers his head with a sigh that echoes off the walls. “No.”

“Who's my father then?”
 

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