One Night, Nine months, and Thirty-Three Years Later

Chapter 4

I saw Linda in her nightgown and it was all I could do to not kiss her, for though my brother had not known, I had fallen in love with his wife first. She was still free, no one had her hand in marriage but when Vergel told me that he loved her, I stepped back.

Our mother died when I was six and Vergel was only one and in that sense, he never had the care of a mother. In letting him have Linda, I prayed that he found two things—a lover and a mother.

One night was all I had when after my brother died, I saw the only woman I ever loved crying. It seemed odd that even with her eyes wet with tears, she still caught my breath. I moved toward her, knowing that my brother, wherever he was, would not want to see his wife crying.

I only ever intended to hold her while she vented out her misfortune but the night was tempting, the breeze meddling with our emotions. Finally, I was holding my muse in my arms. When she stopped crying, the first thing I did was kiss her. That—and stayed with her all throughout the night. I woke up to the sound of the cocks crowing loudly as if the one dozen chickens I tend to had to make the same sound simultaneously. But something louder was beckoning at me—my conscience. I stood up, and with one last look at her, I fled the room.

Nine months later, at the break of dawn, my son was born. He will carry his father's name, and that way, my son will never truly be not mine—even on paper. But that didn't matter, because I gave him something that no one can erase, we shared more than blood, more than a surname. We had a birthmark.

I read the last passages of my uncle's short story again, uncertain of what to make of it. This is why it was so real.

I never came back to the hospital that night, and never had a decent sleep. I think my mother even felt bad that I wasn't able to finish at least one dried fish during dinner. I was preoccupied. My head is bursting with questions. Who am I?

In the morning, I took a bath and talked my mother into coming with me to bring Uncle Tony home. She was hesitant at first, but I managed to sway her.

In silence, we drove. I didn't know what she was thinking and I didn't bother asking. I was trying to solve my own mysteries.

When we reached the hospital, I gave Uncle Tony clean clothes which I took from his house. This time around, I didn't help him get dressed.

I settled the bill, and we were out of the hospital in an hour. As we were walking back to my car, I stopped. I wanted to ask him. But should I?

My mother and Uncle Tony were still walking toward my car. At one point, I saw Uncle Tony look back, searching for me. When he found me, he gestured for me to come over. I started walking again and upon reaching him, I wondered in my freaking head if I should ask him.

When I got closer to him, he glanced at me, and again, I saw his soul through his eyes. That was the moment I decided not to wrestle from him a secret—a secret that he had kept for, how do I put this? Something he had kept for one night, nine months, and thirty-three years.

"Got any idea for a story, my boy?" he asked lightly.

I shook my head and then, I hesitated. "Yes, I think I have."

Who am I? Right at that moment, I knew.

I am Raul Garcia—and I am my father's son.

I rested my arm around Uncle Tony's shoulders as we walked all the way to the parking lot.

The End