Chapter 5

- The "father"'s point of view -

Today, I am accompanying my nephew when he faces yet another trial. My family was deeply involved with the mafia and we all had to suffer under it one way or another. At least as an adult you can choose to stay or leave to live a clean life. You choose and you live with that choice, facing the consequences.

But children are different. Peter has suffered a lot under this connection. He was a shy, sweet boy who just wants to play. He has not yet characteristics of a future leader or criminal mastermind. And if Peter later on chooses the clean path, he should have this choice. But right now some other kids try to take this choice away from him by just sticking stigmata on him that their gossiping mother's put in their heads.

Just thinking about it made my blood boil.

When Peter wanted to go to kindergarten I was torn between joy and worry. Joy, because he actually wanted to go back out there. Worry, because we lived through this same situation already twice.

The first time he was still too young, his father still alive. They were on the playground in the neighbourhood. Peter played in the sand, happily, with a boy he met just ten minutes ago. But kids make friends fast. They shared their dreams and their shovels and played along peacefully. Than came the mother.

She just went shopping in the nearby convenience store, bag in hand. One look at the bodyguard in a suit that stood discreetly at the side she ushered her kid giving the bodyguard a defying gaze. When Peter's father later told me the story it broke my heart. But thankfully, Peter didn't realize it and was soon distracted by a promise of buying ice cream.

But just last year, Peter now old enough to realize his surroundings, he made a friend in his judo-club. They often trained together, both the youngest of the current disciples. Since it was Peter's birthday coming up he asked us if he could invite his new friend. I felt a bit of dread but hoped for the better.

How foolish I was.

A soon as the mother parked in front of the manor her face froze and she pushed her kid back in the car. Polite enough she came to the intercom to inform us, that she could not let her child associate with criminals for fear of getting him involved. We could only talk back "We understand." but we all felt our hearts break.

The problem was, Peter – excited to have his first friend come over – stood directly next to the intercom. He heard everything. How can a parent or I as an uncle explain to him that because of his family he won't have friends? I couldn't. I just whispered "I am sorry, Peter." and the coward in me left the explaining to his mother.

Peter cried in his room after this. He refused to go back to the dojo and didn't go out to find new friends. We all, feeling guilty, didn't encourage him further.

And now here I am. The big bad mafia boss crumbling under a pile of regret on my shoulder having some rookie teacher take it all away. When he said that kids should be judged separately from their parents I was shocked and wanted to go down on my knees to thank him.

While he busied himself tidying up the kitchen I looked at him properly for the first time. He was younger than me, just barely out of school. His dark hair was messy and blocked the view to his lithe neck. My eyes involuntarily wandered lower, across his slender back with the shoulder blades visible through the t-shirt. His pants …

I forced my eyes back up.

I had to focus on Peter right now or all of this rookie teacher's efforts would go to waste.

I took the list with the commands and revised with Peter. While he was focused on the dog pressing out commands with his most stern voice my eyes trailed back to the teacher.

He now came back out of the bathroom, newly dressed with a dark blue sweatshirt accentuating his blue eyes, some waterdrops still on his fringe after washing his face. He runs his hand trough his hair absentmindedly, clearly going through his plans in his head. The morning sunlight caught in the waterdrops and made them sparkle.

I forced my gaze back towards my nephew before the teacher notices me staring.

'Alex, was it? I should remember his name.'