Chapter 16
Our first date was simple.
We went to a small Italian restaurant on the other side of town.
We ate pasta. We drank wine. We talked.
We talked about our childhoods. About our dreams. About our fears.
We talked about everything except Marco.
It was perfect.
When I walked her to her door that night, she kissed me.
Not on the cheek.
On the lips.
It was soft. Gentle. Perfect.
"Goodnight, Michael," she said.
"Goodnight, Sarah."
I went downstairs, floating on air.
Tony was in the kitchen, getting a glass of water.
He saw my face and smiled.
"Good date?"
"The best," I said.
Tony nodded. "You deserve it, little brother. You both do."
Our relationship grew slowly.
We didn't want to rush things. Not with Leo. Not with everything we'd been through.
We told Leo first.
We sat him down and explained that his mom and I were seeing each other. That we cared about each other a lot.
Leo thought about it for a moment.
"Does that mean you're going to be my new dad?" he asked.
I hesitated.
"Not exactly," I said. "Your dad is still your dad. But I'm here for you. I care about you. And I'm always going to take care of you. No matter what."
Leo nodded.
"Okay," he said. "I like that."
He hugged me.
And that was that.
The rest of the family found out quickly.
My brothers were happy for us.
Rose was thrilled. She hugged me and told me I was a good man.
Even the regulars at the restaurant noticed. They would tease us, but in a kind way. They were happy for us.
Life was good.
But we knew there would be challenges.
One of them came in the form of a letter.
From Marco.
Sarah received it one day.
She brought it to me, her hands shaking.
"He wants to see Leo," she said.
I read the letter.
Marco wrote that he had been thinking a lot. That he wanted to see his son. Just once. To apologize. To tell him he loved him.
He said he understood if we said no. But he had to ask.
Sarah and I talked about it.
We talked to Tony.
We talked to Rose.
We talked to Leo's counselor.
In the end, we decided to let Leo decide.
He was eight years old now. Old enough to make his own choices about this.
We sat him down and explained.
"Your father wants to see you," I said. "In prison. You don't have to go if you don't want to. But the choice is yours."
Leo thought about it.
For a long time.
Finally, he nodded.
"I want to go," he said. "I want to see him. I want to tell him that I'm okay. And that I'm mad at him. But that I still love him."
So we made arrangements.
Tony, Sarah, and I took Leo to the prison.
Rose came too.
The visiting room was cold and sterile.
Marco was brought in.
He looked thinner. Paler. But his face lit up when he saw Leo.
They sat across from each other, separated by a glass wall.
Leo picked up the phone.
"Hi, Dad," he said.
Marco's voice cracked.
"Hi, son."
They talked for an hour.
Leo told him about school. About his friends. About the restaurant. About Rose.
Marco listened. He asked questions. He told Leo he loved him. He told him he was sorry.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," Marco said. "I'm sorry I made bad choices. I'm sorry I hurt you and your mom."
Leo nodded.
"I'm mad at you," he said. "But I still love you."
Marco cried.
"I love you too, son. More than anything."
When the hour was up, Marco looked at Sarah and me.
"Thank you," he said through the glass. "For taking care of him. For being good to him. You're good people. Better than I deserve."
We nodded.
And then the guards took Marco away.
On the drive home, Leo was quiet.
Finally, he said, "I'm glad I went. But I don't want to go back. Not for a long time."
"That's okay," Sarah said. "Whenever you're ready."
Leo leaned his head against my shoulder.
"Michael?"
"Yeah, buddy?"
"Can you teach me how to fix cars? Like you and your dad used to do?"
I smiled.
May you like
"Yeah, buddy. I'd like that."
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