Maybe This Is Love, |✔️

Chapter 25

The tall, sturdy man stood before them, his chiselled face slowly turning even redder. "You must have the wrong house." He says, curtly.

There were no two ways about it. This man was Parker's father. They have the same bewildering eyes. Those silver-grey orbs that seemed as if they were looking into your soul when they watched you. They have a similar bone structure and nose shape.

One of the only things that set them apart was Parker's slightly curly hair that he gained from his mother whereas this man had straight, noticeably greying hair.

The two children huddled around her legs looked up at the two teenagers with curious eyes. Each of them sucking onto a candy cane as if their life depended on it. They each had grey eyes too. Parker couldn't help staring at them, wondering if these were the younger siblings he had never met.

"Alright, poppets, let's go open some presents while your dad gives money to the carollers." The woman said looking at Parker and Harley as if she wanted them to disappear from the Earth.

Parker's face flushed with anger. "We're not carollers and you know that." He says, sternly, as the lady carts the kids off into the house, ignoring him.
She didn't care and wanted to remove herself from the situation as quickly as possible.

Parkers dad steps forwards and closes the door quietly behind him. "You need to leave."

"I'm not going anywhere," Parker says, wiping his sweaty hands down the sides of his trousers. He was noticeably perspiring even though it was like minus two degrees outside. "I thought you'd be happy to see me."

An incredulous look appears on the man's face as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Why on earth would you think that?"

Parker could feel the wounds he had spent his entire childhood trying to heal begin to open again. "Because..." His voice cracks and he coughs to cover it up. "I'm your son..."

The man stares blankly back at Parker. "I don't know what you're talking about. Look, do you need money or what? What is it you want from me?"

"I don't want your money, I want an explanation," He spits. Did this man not recognise him? Surely, he could look into his eyes and see that this is the same son he brought home from the hospital eighteen years ago. "I want you to acknowledge me."

His chest rises and falls. Harley could tell he was trying his hardest not to cry.

"Look at me!" Parker points to his face. His father looks away, you can see the hardened guilt in his eyes. "Why did you never come back for me? For us?! Your daughter and your son! Your flesh and blood!"

He then begins to fumble around in his jacket pocket, looking for something. He feels the jingle of his car keys. Then he runs back to the car. Harley was scared he was going to leave her there but she calmed down once she saw him coming back. Parker pulls out a beautifully painted canvas wrapped in a sheer sheet and walks back to the two brandishing it.

"You don't remember this?" He points vigorously at the bottom of the painting where it was signed in beautiful calligraphy. "Roberto Angelo Sorrisi! Is that not your name?" he reads out.

The beautifully crafted painting of a man holding his naked child, both of them laughing with happiness.
The man in the painting had only blue jeans on that were loose around the waist. His bare foot resting on the ground whilst he sat on a wooden chair. The child was chubby and had one dimpled cheek just like Parker.

The man looks taken aback. "Where did you get that?"

Parker ignores him. "Parker Angelo Sorrisi. That's my name. I'm the child in the painting, am I not?"

The man swallows his spit and looks uncomfortably at the ground. "Look, I don't know what you want from me. You want me to say you're my son? I haven't seen or spoken to you since you were 3, I don't think I qualify for the title of your father. I understand that you thought that by coming here on Christmas day that we could reunite and be one big happy family but I'm afraid this is the real world. This is real life and things don't work out like they do in the movies."

Parkers hand touched his cheek as if he'd been slapped. This wasn't the reaction he had been imagining over and over again for the past ten years. His father wasn't welcoming him in with a big hug. He wasn't telling him how much he missed and regretted leaving their family. He wasn't telling him he loved him and he wished he never left his side. Fuck. He didn't even apologise for leaving in the first place.
"That's right." he decided. "I never needed a father, I have a mother that did it all because you couldn't do your job!"

His eyes were flashing red and his hands were shaking. "What kind of coward leaves their family? What kind of coward abandons his disabled daughter?"

"You're right. I'm not your father." He shakes his head as if he couldn't fathom that the mistake he made all those years ago would come back to bite him in the backside. "I haven't been your father for the last 15 years and I can't take that back. I wish I could but I can't. But we're both adults now, I've moved on and I think you should do the same."

"Move on? Move on!" Parker repeats growing gradually louder. Harley could see he was visibly at his limit. His skin was red and blotchy and his eyes looked as if he was about to burst out crying at any minute. It physically pained her to see him like this. His hurt was her hurt and vice versa. "That's rich. It seems you've got that sorted, haven't ya? You've got your little wife and brand new family now, great."

"Did you know I was planning on going to Italy to find you? Mamma told me that's where you disappeared to. She lied to protect me. Oh, and I had an art scholarship and everything. Just like you!" He was smiling in anger, his hand clenched until his knuckles went white. "But I will never be like you. I bet my life on it."

Mr Sorrisi was angry now too. "What you think you and your little black girlfriend are gonna last forever, do you?" He laughs sickly in Parker's face. Before Harley could even react, Parker had punched him square in the face.

The man stumbles back surprised, holding a hand to his now bloodied nose.

"Parker," She says, putting her hand firmly on his shoulder. "Go to the car. I think we've heard enough."

Parker blinks back the tears he'd been holding in since he pulled into the driveway.
Then he stares at Harley in surprise. She spoke.

"Go." She orders again and he obeys. He had nothing more to say to that man anyway.
He watches from the car as Harley speaks to Mr Sorrisi . He couldn't hear what was being said but it must've been vicious because the look on Mr Sorrisi's face said it all.

Harley enters the car and sighs deeply, putting her head into her palms. She couldn't believe she had just been a victim of racism. Of course it was something she had dealt with her whole life, being a black woman, but she hadn't expected it to come from Parker's father.

Parker was embarrassed by his fathers actions. It only solidified the fact that he wanted nothing to do with a man like that. He was nothing like that creature and he never will be.

"What did you say to him?" He asks her, his hands shaking as he puts the key into the ignition.

"Just drive, Parker." And he does. He just drives. Leaving the painting on the floor of the driveway.