Page 57 of Redemption
The Giordano family has never been normal.
The darkness that stole into our world, took my brother, shattered my parents’ happiness, and altered the course of my life has pervaded every moment of my father’s existence. There was no simple joy from spending time with his son. There was training. Preparation to be made so that I would not be so vulnerable to abduction. It was like a gray cloud hanging over our every interaction.
I was there. Alive. Present. Needing his love and affection and attention. But even though he saw me, he always saw what was lacking—Luca.
It was as though Luca’s absence had captured his mind and stolen from him the ability to enjoy anything else in life.
My mother, a beauty full of love, became his enemy the moment she returned without Luca.
I was only an infant then, but from what Mama has said over the years, I know it was sudden and heart-wrenching when he sent her away from him for coming home without his other son.
The little boy who simply wanted both of his parents to be in the same place at the same time is still alive and well within me.
Carrying this photograph, I know I have exactly what I need to make a long-standing dream of mine come true.
However, after all these years, I have to wonder, what will their reunion do to my mother? She is all that is good and loving in this world. My only source of softness and affection. Do I truly want to expose her sweetness and gentleness to the harsh reality that is the man who my father has become?
She believes she knows him still, after all these years, but she doesn’t know him like I do. I have seen him shut out his emotional side because, in truth, I believe he fears it will overtake him and crush him if he were to allow himself to feel anything.
He is proud of me though. That I know. He is proud of the man I have become—despite the alterations to my physical appearance. He sees me as a capable steward of the family’s businesses and properties. But I know that every time he looks at me, he sees only half of the twin sons he had. He sees loss and pain and heartbreak.
Perhaps that is painful for him, but it has been even more difficult for me.
To know that every time you stand in your father’s presence, he is reminded of the very worst thing that ever happened in his life is a very heavy burden to carry, and it has been my whole life.
It is for this reason that I could not stay and enjoy the family party for even another moment. I have to repair this breach in my family’s joy and happiness. I have to heal the hole in my father’s heart.
While my mother had faith and hope to cling to and found joy in loving me twice as much, my father has only had business, success, and money to attempt to cement over the missing piece of his life.
In truth, I do not know how he has survived this long. I feared the bitterness and regret would take him long ago. But he has survived this way, somehow, against all odds. Perhaps for today.
The entire flight feels like it is being flown by someone else. I am present and attentive, but it is as though the controls are manned by a power far greater than my own. It’s as if I’m being pushed to Milan as fast as possible.
My landing is smooth and effortless, and an airport employee is waiting at the hangar to welcome me. Speaking the fewest number of words possible, I thank them and climb into the Ferrari I keep for driving in Milan. The width of the car barely fits in the lane, but I don’t care. It carries me as quickly as possible to the headquarters of the Giordano empire, based in the heart of Milan.
My father claims that city life suits him better at this age because of its conveniences, but I have a different outlook on the matter. I believe instead that the noise and constant activity of the city make it easier for him to forget and block out the memories that haunt him daily.
I try not to judge my father or his choices, for I have never walked in his shoes. I have never had my wife and son kidnapped. I have never experienced the loss that he has. While I try to understand him, I often fail because I have never been to the depths of grief and bitterness, where he has lived for many years.
As a child, I often thought that as he grew older, my father would change and soften. That, one day, he would realize he was lucky to have a son even if he no longer had two.
I was wrong. The hardness only sharpened until he and I could no longer work side by side.
For the past ten years, I have chosen to stay away from Milan the majority of the time and let Father direct all business that needs to happen in the city. It has been easier this way—to love him from a distance since he could not love me in close proximity.
It doesn’t matter how many subjects I excelled in or how victorious I am in business or life. Nothing I do has been able to shatter the deep freeze he has locked himself into for decades.
But now—now—I have the panacea in my pocket.
Proof that his second son lives.
Proof that the empire he tends to so carefully shall not die with me.
Proof that there is a God and He blesses us with a new beginning for the Giordano family.
I have no idea what kind of reaction I will get from my father, but as I board the elevator to the top floor of the marble building that houses our family’s offices and my father’s city apartment, I know that life as I know it will never be the same after today. I know that my father will never be the same after today.
When the elevator chimes to announce my arrival on the top floor, I step out of the ornate mirrored car onto the white marble floor. My suit is wrinkled and rumpled from the flight from America, which my father will no doubt find distasteful, but the news I bring is more important than a freshly pressed suit.
