Farewell to a father
I looked at my father, confused, without really understanding what he had just told me.
—"I think... I must've misheard you, Dad..." —I said, total confusion written all over my face.
At my words, my father closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again, there was a chilling certainty in them.
—"Like I said... you need to leave. It's no longer safe for you, or for me." —At those words, I took a few steps back until I bumped into the wall.
I didn't understand why he was saying these things. I knew we didn't live a luxurious life; we lived in a poor neighborhood in Brooklyn, but it wasn't bad enough for him to say something like that.
—"But, Dad—" —I didn't get to finish speaking when he suddenly punched the wall.
—"Listen carefully, Ezequiel. You are not normal..." —I swallowed hard at his words. Anger, rage, sadness, confusion; a mess of emotions swirled in my stomach. I knew I wasn't normal—since I was little, I saw "monsters," weird things always happened around me. In preschool, when I saw a "giant dog" stomp on a car through the window... needless to say, there was nothing outside. That day I was marked as the "weird" kid who said he saw things that weren't there.
Add to that my dyslexia and ADHD. I wasn't exactly the most sociable flower in the field, and the following years only helped people "confirm" their opinion that I was someone bad.
Even with all that, it hurt. It hurt so much to hear that from the last person I ever expected it from—my father...
Surely some of those emotions and thoughts must've shown on my face, because after saying that, my father looked regretful. He let out a sigh and collapsed into the chair by the table.
—"Sit down." —It wasn't a question, it was an order.
Still confused and angry, I obeyed, because sitting in front of me wasn't the man who had always seemed invincible, immovable like the tallest mountain in the world. In front of me was just a sad and tired man.
—"You are not normal, son. Don't interrupt me, let me finish, please." —he said tiredly, seeing the anger and rage on my face.
—"Your birth wasn't normal, but to explain that I need to tell you how I met your mother."
—"My mother?" —I said with some sarcasm—. "I don't have a mother."
—"Yes, your mother, idiot." —my father replied, exhausted—. "Just listen to me, and then you can draw your own conclusions. It's the least you deserve, son."
—"I met your mother 14 years ago. I was a mixed martial arts fighter in training," —my father began with nostalgia.
—"Du, I know that. You trained me in th—" —I didn't get to finish when I saw his look.
—"As I was saying, before you interrupted, I was a mixed martial arts fighter. One day, my master recommended I enter a tournament that was being organized in Manhattan. I was young and ambitious, so of course I immediately accepted.
—"When the day of the tournament came, I won't lie to you—I crushed the competition that day," —my father laughed nostalgically—. "But you know what? There was someone in the stands who caught my eye. She was a dazzling young woman; I don't remember ever seeing someone more beautiful in my life. When it ended and they gave me the prize, I rushed over with the confidence only a foolish young man could have, and asked her if she'd give me a congratulatory kiss." —my father smiled with nostalgia.
I couldn't stay silent at that.
—"You just went up and asked her for a kiss?" —I asked, doubting and incredulous.
—"Hahaha, yeah, yeah. Like I said, I was young, a bit dumb and arrogant, and I didn't think of anything else but to approach the beautiful woman who had captivated me at the tournament." —he laughed sheepishly.
I just stared at him, not sure if he was an idiot or an unrecognized genius.
—"Well, like I was saying, when she heard what I asked, she was shocked. She didn't expect something so ridiculous from a young guy (or more like she didn't expect a mortal to be dumb or bold enough to ask that). She just laughed and gave me a kiss on the cheek as a prize," —my father recalled with fondness—. "After that, I couldn't wipe the goofy smile off my face for a week. Anyway, not to digress too much, after the tournament I asked her out on a date."
—"And after the first date came a second, and then a third, and so on until one day I asked her to be my girlfriend," —my father said calmly.
Throughout the story, I listened with anticipation, because very rarely did my father talk to me about my mother. Whenever I asked as a child, he would get that look of grief and sorrow that could break anyone's heart, and he would avoid the subject uncomfortably and sadly.
Eventually, I stopped asking. All that was left was the bitterness and sadness of knowing there were so many kids who had a mom and I just... didn't. Or at least that's how my young mind processed it at the time. Though I still held some anger in me, as much as I hated to admit it.
While I was lost in thought, my father went to the fridge to grab a beer and then sat back down across from me.
—"You know, you have the same look she had when she got lost in her thoughts," —my old man suddenly said.
I just looked up, surprised. I wasn't expecting something like that from him.
He gave me one of his half-smiles—the one only he knows how to do—then let out a sigh that sounded so tired.
—"Back to the point, she confessed something to me then... She was... a goddess," —my father said firmly.
I stared at him without blinking, wondering if age had finally caught up with him and if I'd need to lock him in an asylum.
—"Do you... think I'm an idiot?" —I asked, a mix of anger and confusion.
At that, my father sighed and chuckled.
—"There's a part of me in you right there..." —I just stared at him with no trace of amusement on my face.
He sighed—. "I made the same face you just did when she told me. I thought she was joking, that she just didn't want to be with me, but she insisted and showed me the truth."
—"The truth about what?" —I asked, uncertain.
—"That gods are real... they live among us... they live here," —he said with such confidence that, even though my mind tried to deny it, my heart felt it. It felt that my father was telling the truth, that he had finally found the missing piece of the puzzle, like it had always been there but I had never seen it.
I just believed him.
—"How... —I tried to form some words—. How did it happen? Who was she?... Who am I?" —At my questions, my father sighed.
—"She was unique, son, one of a kind. Beautiful, smart, kind, and many other things. As for how it happened, well, after she told me she was a goddess, she showed me some... things only a goddess could do."
—"And as for who you are—you're my son, Ezequiel. Never forget that. You're my greatest pride, son," —my father told me with so much love and passion that tears flowed from my eyes. I did the only thing that came to mind: I hugged him. I hugged him like I did when I was a child, crying, telling him there was a monster under my bed. I hugged him to make sure he was here, that even though his son was weird, even though I'd been a troublemaker all my life, he always loved me. I cried for the mother who wasn't there, I cried for the father who carried the weight of a family on his shoulders. And he just cried too, with the comfort of a father who loved his son no matter what.
While he hugged me, my father said:
—"Son, go get your things. I'm taking you somewhere safe where you can meet others like you." —he said as he slowly pulled away from the hug.
—"Others like me? And where is that?" —I asked, wiping my tears with my arm.
—"People like you—a demigod. And where...? Camp Half-Blood," —he answered with a sad half-smile.
Something in me resonated when I heard those words, like deep down I knew I belonged there.
—"Camp Half-Blood..." —I tested the words like it was the greatest mystery in the world, and in that moment, it truly felt like it.
—"Go pack your things, son. I'll go start the car," —my father said/ordered.
I nodded and shot off to my room, where I packed all my important belongings, which were basically a few changes of clothes, a photo of my dad and me playing ball, and a necklace with a small winged pendant.
After checking that I hadn't forgotten anything, I left the house and found my father already waiting in the car. I swallowed the nervousness I felt and climbed into the passenger seat.
My father looked at me from the corner of his eye, but said nothing more, and we set off for what I would later find out was Long Island, New York—my new home...
[A few hours later]
We were nearing the camp, barely five minutes away according to my father. I was just sitting there, impatient. Whoever thought it was a good idea to trap a teenager with ADHD in a metal box with wheels was terribly wrong. A huge mistake. Normally, his father would scold him, but during the trip he was immersed in silence, something I internally appreciated. I really didn't know what to talk about with him after so much drama in so little time (if only Ezequiel knew what he was getting into, poor guy), so the trip went by mostly in silence.
Then I saw, through the window, a hill with a fluorescent orange sign that said: "Camp Half-Blood." In my opinion, the person who designed that sign was a bastard—it was a nightmare for my dyslexia to read.
That's when my father stopped the car about 20 meters from the sign.
—"So this is goodbye, son..." —my father said stiffly.
I just looked at him sadly, not knowing what to say, so I did the only thing I thought was right: I hugged him. Not a tearful hug like the one this morning—this one was more comforting, trying to convey all the love I felt for my old man.
—"It's a 'see you later,' not a goodbye. You'll have a hard time getting rid of me," —I said while hugging him.
He just smiled and ruffled my hair.
—"You are everything and more than anyone could ask for in a son. I love you, my son," —my father said with teary eyes.
—"I love you too, Dad." —I hugged him one last time for who knows how long, and started walking toward the camp. When I reached the entrance, I turned to look back and saw my father watching me from the hood of the car. He raised his hand in a wave.
I returned the gesture and turned my gaze to the entrance. I let out a sigh.
—"Here we go... for me, for you, Dad, and for whatever destiny has in store for me," —I said as I slowly walked toward what looked like a large cabin, looking at the different beings wandering around the place.
Author's note: English is my third language, all this work is transcribed by Google Translate.