Lost & Found

FIVE

I couldn't find the right word to encapsulate the sheer rage that Papá was radiating at me right now. "Livid" didn't quite cut it.

On the upside, he appeared outwardly calm. I credited his eye patch for that; it restricted the laser-like glare to only one side of his face, which softened the blow somewhat.

The silence in the room was oppressive, where even the drop of a pen could've echoed like an explosion. Robert had ushered me into his office earlier with a wicked smile, clearly relishing my predicament. What a jerk.

I knew deep down that I deserved this.

All the insults I'd shot him at the crack of dawn had to be enough to fill a couple how to make a grown man cry books. This was my karma.

I don't know what to do with you," Papá finally spoke, his voice low and choked. Fear coiled in my gut; I'd rather he just yelled at me. "My initial thought was to dispose of you, but then I'd be emotionally scarred, and that's not good for the family."

Huh?

I wasn't sure if I should be flattered by the fact that my death would hurt him, or offended that he'd even considered it. Honestly, I was somewhere in between. Sneaking out wasn't the half of it; wait till he finds out I put baby powder in his blow dryer.

Then," Papá continued, casually resting his elbows on his desk, "I thought about sending you to some disciplinary academy. But, I quickly realized - and you're lucky I'm a wise man, Alexander - that you don't respect authority because I haven't been authoritative enough. So, the extreme measures, like killing you, for instance, or sending you away, might not be necessary. Here's my proposal: you go to school, come home, stay in your room, and don't speak to anyone. Let's try that for, say..."

He ran a heavy hand through his beard. "A year."

Whoa.

"Papá," I chuckled weakly, my heart pounding. I didn't know if I'd prefer that over the whole 'killing' suggestion. "Let's not be hasty, Sí? I'm just a kid. Maybe all I need is a nap, some animal crackers, and a new soccer ball. That should get me to behave, no doubt."

He didn't laugh. In fact, his features twisted into something monstrous. Fear seeped through me.

It was easy to forget that Papá was a ruthless man, especially when it was just him and me. He was usually gentle and funny. On weekends, he'd make me spaghetti alle vongole and blew raspberries on my tummy. He had a special smile just for me, one he reserved only for my eyes, and the thought of never seeing it again felt torturous.

"Papá, I'm sorry," I blurted out. The words spilled before I could stop them.

"I want you to understand where I'm coming from, but it's more complicated than you think."

"What are you talking about?" He hissed through clenched teeth, his tone dropping to something low and dangerous. "Alexander, if you're in trouble, you need to tell me."

"No, Papá," I sighed. "I'm not in trouble, I promise."

"Then what's the problem?" He shot back. "Why can't I trust you, bambino? I want to let you go to your friend's house. I want to give you the freedom to take a walk. Hell, I want you to be able to run around the front lawn without worrying that you're going to grab a box of matches and see what they do."

Okay, that was a low blow. I was only nine at the time of the incident, and I'd only done that once. He was overreacting.

Papá continued past my glare. "But you abuse my trust every chance you get."

I pulled my legs up to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself. His gaze held so much anger, so much disappointment. But Papá didn't understand, and he never would. There were things I had to know about my parents. I needed to understand who was targeting our family and why. So much remained unsaid between us, swirling like a predator circling its prey.