DAMIEN

 

 

“Damien,” he voiced in the same tone Amira had just bellowed. Not believing his eyes that his son was standing before him. In the flesh and blood.

I nodded, unable to form words to say what needed to be said which was a simple hello, but nothing had ever been simple between us. He stood there taking in the man he once called his son, intently eyeing me for what felt like an eternity. Rehearsing what to say in his head, making it clear that he had dreamt of this encounter for as long as I had been gone from his life. Way before I even left Cuba. I could see my childhood blaze through his eyes. Each time he blinked, another milestone came into his sight, leading us right back to the night he destroyed our family.

Breaching our blood.

Where we were no longer father and son.

No longer anything but the man I lost respect for and the son he just… lost.

He’d aged as to be expected after thirteen years, looking as exhausted as I felt after all the time, distance and years between us. His narrowed eyes shifted to Amira, zeroing in on her in a much different way than he had with me.

“Hello, Mr. Montero,” Amira announced, breaking the deafening silence. “I’m Amira. Do you remember who I am?”

Realization instantly assaulted his memory, remembering who she was indeed. “You look… well,” he stated in an unsteady tone, peering back at me and then at her again, wavering on who to focus on. “You both do.”

“We’re here for—” I started.

“I know why you’re here,” he interrupted me. “And to be straightforward, it doesn’t surprise me. I figured you’d come, just never imagined it would be with her.” He eyed Amira up and down like he couldn’t believe she was there, his gaze lingering on our entwined hands before he brought his attention back up to me. “Do you a have a few minutes to spare? To talk in private.”

I swallowed hard, nodding for him to lead the way toward the exit where our SUV was parked. Walking through a sea of grieving men and women who were now forming a line to pay their respects to their prestigious leader. I scanned the space one last time, being overly cautious of our surroundings as we followed close behind my father. Noticing for the first time I still hadn’t let go of Amira’s hand since we arrived. I pulled her close to my body as the exit came into sight, welcoming her warmth against my tensed frame. We crossed the threshold into the Havana sun and stopped a few feet away from the building. My father glanced back and forth between us again, an awkward silence filled the stifling air amongst us. Only heightening the friction in my heated composure.

Amira must have interpreted the trepidation like her presence was the problem because she hastily intervened, “I’ll give you two some privacy. I’ll be in the car waiting.” She was about to let go of my hand, taking a step to leave, when I firmly held her beside me. Not allowing her to move at all.

We locked eyes. “Anything discussed can be said in front of you, Muñeca.”

Her eyes widened in shock, realizing I needed her now more than ever, and I was openly making it known for the first time. To my father as well as Amira, and the expression on her face was worth the years it took to get to this place in time.

“Damn, it’s good to see you,” my father addressed, dragging our focus to him. “Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about you. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve wanted to reach out, but didn’t have the courage. I was too afraid of how you would react, how you would read my intentions, that were strictly pure and out of concern for you.”

“What do you want me to say?” I shrugged, shaking my head. “That I would have welcomed you back with open arms? That we could have tried to mend our relationship after everything that happened? A huge part of me left Cuba because of Salazar and a completely different part of me left because of you. You might not be entirely responsible for the man I turned out to be, but I still hold you accountable. And no amount of reaching out could ever change that.”

“Look…” He faltered. “I can’t change the past, it’s already written. As much as I wish it weren’t true, it’s etched into who we are. You’re right, nothing is going to change what we’ve been through. But you got out, Damien… and I couldn’t be more grateful for that. This isn’t the life I wanted for you—the life of the man, the father, the monster you see standing in front of you.” He crudely jabbed his chest. “I hate Emilio Salazar probably more than you do. Not only did I lose my life to that piece of shit, I lost my son’s too.” Nodding to Amira, he heavily expressed, “And hers.”

I could see Amira’s glossy eyes out of the corner of my mine, mirroring the way I unexpectedly felt inside. My chest constricted, making it hard to maintain my self-control with the sudden awareness that my father and I were more alike than I ever could have imagined.

“I’m sorry, Damien. For everything. If you could please just put yourself in my place for one second, you’d see I did everything in my power to stop you from becoming Salazar, without losing my own life. Which I gladly would’ve handed over to him if it guaranteed your freedom, but you and I both know it wouldn’t have. I’d just be dead, another victim falling into his trap. Where you would’ve been left alone with him, and I couldn’t do that to you, not after everything I’d already done. I may have lost you, but I still held onto the hope that one day I’d find you again and we could make up for lost time. Maybe not as father and son, but as two people who could possibly build a relationship toward that again.”

“Listen,” I breathed out, overwhelmed and slightly aggravated by his honesty that had me hanging on by a fucking thread.

I couldn’t decipher the difference between my distorted emotions of wanting to hurt him some more with my actions, my words, my fucking truths, or to just finally accept his apology after all these years. They were as conflicting as my sentiments for Emilio, two men I once loved and eventually hated at the same time. I don’t know why I thought this was going to be easy when nothing in my life had ever been. I tried to control my inner demons, but one of the biggest afflictions was standing right in front of me, and I had no choice but to face them head on.

“Now isn’t the time to figure any of this shit out. I didn’t come here for a heart to heart today. I did what we came here to do. Now if you’d excuse us, we have plans.”

“Damien…” Amira coaxed, squeezing my hand as she glanced at the side of my face. “Enough, please.”

I looked into her eyes, trying to find any reasoning through her compassionate stare. She peered back into mine, knowing exactly what I was doing. What I was trying to find.

“It wasn’t his fault, just as much as it wasn’t yours or mine. We’ve all been held prisoner by that man. He’s right, you escaped, I escaped, we left while your father stayed in this hell, subjected to him. Honestly, I’m surprised Emilio let him live after you fled.”

“Amira—”

“No, you wanted me to stay and listen, and I have. I’m going to voice my opinion because it needs to be said. You can’t keep punishing your own blood, he’s not Salazar. He’s your father, and he loves you. You don’t realize how lucky you are to still have a parent living, breathing. Standing in front of you, fighting to be included in any aspect of your life. You wanted to come back to Cuba to rid yourself of all your demons. Well I’m telling you, he”—she pointed to him—“is not one of them. Make up with your father because there will come a time when he won’t be alive, and I know you will regret not giving him a chance to make things right between the two of you. Stop creating new demons, you’re only setting yourself up for failure.”

And there she was, the only woman who could ever put me in my place. I loved her more in that moment than I had in any other, for her forgiving heart and beautiful fucking soul. Two qualities I’d never have, I just wasn’t made that way.

He didn’t make me that way.

My father’s undivided attention focused on Amira, almost like he was trying to tell her something through his eyes. I ignored the sentiment, taking a deep breath, rasping, “We need to get going, Amira.” Not wanting to continue this conversation.

She smiled at me before hesitantly stepping toward my father, throwing one arm around his neck, embracing him while still holding onto my hand. Almost like she was hugging him for me, providing comfort in the way I never could. From the look on my father’s face, he was just as surprised by her gesture as I was, but appreciated it nonetheless by returning the sentiment. She visibly relaxed into him, quickly whispering something in his ear I couldn’t hear before slowly pulling away.

“Take care, Mr. Montero.” 

“You too. Please take care of my boy.”

“Always.”

The corner of his lip drew into a subtle smile, and sadness laced his eyes when he peered over at me. “I just want you to know that I’ve followed your career, son. You’ve made quite a successful life for yourself, and I can’t begin to tell you how proud I am of you. That was all I ever wanted for my boy. A life without Cuba, Emilio, and… me.”

It was my turn to squeeze Amira’s hand, caught off guard by his statement.

“I love you, Damien. I’ll always love you. No matter what, you will always be my son.”

Since I didn’t know how to reply, I simply stated the only words to be true, “And you’ll always be my father.”

“I hope to hear from you sometime.” He smiled. “It was good to see you. Both of you.”

“It was good to see you too, Mr. Montero.”

We nodded a goodbye, and Amira and I made our way into the SUV. Neither one of us saying a word, taking in the silence for as long as we could. Driving through the city to a place both of us needed to let go of. As soon as the driver started descending down a familiar road, it was time to tell her what was next on our journey.

With or without her consent.

“I told you, Muñeca. Salazar’s viewing was only the beginning, but this is the final stop. It’s time to go back to where it all began.”

She sucked in a breath, never expecting me to say,

“El Campo, your home.”