My sick Father

Today, I lived the most beautiful hours of all my life, and I spent them in the company of a boy. A boy like me in a way, a boy like no other, a boy who is far from being ordinary, a boy who will make many people envious.

I don't know why I suddenly felt so anxious, but anything seemed possible when I was with him. What upsets me is that I want to cry to free myself from this anguish that overwhelms me so suddenly.

Not an hour ago, I was happy and was traveling on a small cloud of sensations and good feelings with this boy who made me dream like never before, who pushed me to open up to other alternatives, and we were happy as two carefree and delighted kids. And now I feel almost empty and helpless. What's going on?

To tell the truth, I felt very severe pain when the hour of the separation rang. Even if I didn't say anything, I was afraid to say or do something that didn't sound like me or could scare him away before this relationship even hatched. What is this feeling?

Does he see me as a companion or feel lonely enough to agree to be with me, not someone else? When he asked me not to leave him alone, I felt like I was carrying a decade of pain on my fragile shoulders. It was the first time I thought they were so delicate.

Someone who looks a little more like him, who is part of his world, something like that, I don't know. But why do I think of these things? What's wrong with me? Will he treat me like an accessory, too, like a toy that exists only to satisfy his needs?

Damn, damn it! I need to stop thinking about these things.

It's not me at all. I usually don't ask myself questions about these things and let alone torture my mind with assumptions until I hurt myself. What has he done to me? What has this little prick done to my life? I don't think I'm ready for these things.

No, I'm not. Am I panicking here? Oh shit, I'm screwed... I'm freaking out of my mind. Yes, I think I'm freaking out like a rookie. What am I talking about exactly? I'm a dumb rookie.

I leaned against the big front door and closed my eyes. I knew my mother was waiting for me, and she was the one who gave the signal. I can't afford to go in and join her like this. I am a mess now, my mind is a mess now.

She could think Aim probably hurt me or that everything was worse than my previous relationships. Or, even worse, she could laugh at me and tease me with any stupid story while openly giggling at me and not caring about my state of mind.

I saw a searing pain in Quincy's eyes, which broke my heart. I wonder if he pities me a little since I know who he is. Is this feeling that invades me a doubt?

Or at least, is my poor heart too happy to accept this new reality? After all, one of the most powerful men on this planet has eyes on me. It's almost expected that I freak out and feel agitated.

And then, will I be up to it to be with him? Oh gosh, I am a cursed soul! How do I explain my fears and doubts to my mother without revealing Quincy's identity?

I wanted to stay a little longer, snuggle up to him, and talk to him about everything and nothing. Conversation with him is easy, yet he is different from us. With him, there is no secretiveness, only frankness is allowed, and you don't feel embarrassed to ask questions that will be difficult with a person like me. It's much more manageable.

With Aim, it's as if we knew each other millennia ago, the current goes well between us, and we don't need to be embarrassed. It must be said that straightforward language has its whole meaning, and it is better to say things as they are.

He is skillful, brilliant, and remarkable and does not leave you with innuendo or ambiguous sentences. By the way, why are all the men around me overshadowing me with their imposing figures? And the big question is, what do I have to offer a multi-billionaire?

I stood there leaning against the big front door, feeling sorry for myself, tormenting myself over something that had only begun and put myself down for some reason. It's not even my style to devalue myself, and this, no matter the circumstances.

And here I am, all helpless because a boy younger than me dragged me into a beautiful world because I had the misfortune to let him set me on fire. The door opened behind me, and I was startled when I saw my father's eyes instead of my mother's.

I almost gave up the ghost and fooled myself... pff. When have I been so fragile and scaredy-cat?

Quincy stayed down the street for quite a while. I don't know what he was thinking, but I hope my dad didn't see him on the surveillance cameras. He wasn't wearing his disguise; he had his hair tied up in that bun, which made him even sexier. He wore those same faded blue jeans, sports sneakers, a simple white t-shirt, and a long black coat. Hmm, so irresistible.

My blood was flowing at full speed, thinking my father had an idea of who I was with and why I was with this person at this late hour. I looked up at him in fear, praying with all my might.

He must have noticed the terror spread over my face because he started looking over his head and shoulders as if he was also looking for what was scaring me.

He looked back at me for a moment and then asked the dumbest question I ever thought he would ask me one day.

" Are you fine, son?"

I really must be dreaming now, huh? Not only did he ask the question, but he also dared to call me "son." I looked at him without really seeing him, shocked by his attitude, before screaming in my head with all my fucking strength.

"What fucking flies bit you, you poor idiot? Whom are you calling " son" in such a sweet tone like I was?" I'm a little emotional; if this continues, I will crack like an eggshell.

Where did this man in front of me come from? Did my mother exchange him for something more suitable at one of her designers for a colossal sum or something?

This sudden attention to me and calling me "son" out of the blue like that, he's not my dad. I don't know this man. Has he been drinking? And why is he the one who opened the door? Where is my mother? And it's not like I needed him to open the door for me; I could do it, and any staff member would do it too, but why him?

As I didn't answer his question, he brushed my hair aside with gentleness to put a hand on my forehead and asked me again if I was OK. It was too much, so I reacted abruptly by pushing the hand he put on me as if the very fact that he touched me repelled me.

I assure you it's the opposite. It's just that I'm not used to this kind of behavior coming from my father. He looked at me without saying a word.

"What's got into you?" I clapped with a hint of contempt and annoyance.

" Hey, relax, it's OK," he said casually, raising his hands while taking a step back. " It's just that it's been a good half hour since you stood there; I wanted to know if you're OK. I'm sorry if I scared you. "

But what's happening to me? My father tells me he's sorry; I pinched my leg discreetly. I wanted to be sure I wasn't dreaming. I'm not dreaming, am I?

"Why are you acting so peculiar? What did you do to my self-centered, stupid father?" I ask him with a touch of irony, eyeing him from head to toe.

He looked at me and smiled. Yes, I said; he smiled. I feel like I'm having a waking nightmare.

"It's at this point that we drifted apart," he asked softly, looking away.

" You did not know?" I retorted, ready for a confrontation, but he looked at me for a long time without saying anything and motioned me to go inside.

" Come in. We'll talk about it another time. You're dressed very lightly, you might catch a cold standing here. Your mother fell asleep waiting for you. She was in all her states when she came back. I imagine she was waiting for you to tell her about your day."

" I wonder," I replied sharply, avoiding his out straightened hand in front of me.

" You can go up to your room; I'll take her to bed, and will you have time over the weekend to discuss a bit?"

"OK, thanks, and Take good care of her."

" Ewen?"

" What now?" I yelled as I walked past him.

" I'm your friend too." he shamelessly uttered. What is this joke, huh?

What the... No, no! But what the hell is he trying to do exactly? It's too much... I can't stand all this comedy anymore, which makes me want to puke. I rush to the stairs to take refuge in my room's soothing and comforting comfort, far from him and his illness. It must be serious; I don't want to be contaminated too.

My father is possessed by a benevolent spirit tonight, huh?

Once in my room, I rack my brains to imagine what could make my father act like this. Is he under hypnosis or something? It didn't take me long to let go of these thoughts about my father's confusing behavior.

He's probably acting. And I sincerely hope he hasn't noticed Quincy. That's what's important right now; as my mind wanders from one topic to another, my phone starts ringing.

" Did someone miss me, huh?" I picked up the phone.

" Don't play this with me, Wen... don't start fooling around with me; I am not in the mood." A pissed-off Zack replied.

Zack's angry, menacing voice rose on the other end like thunder; he was mad at me this time. He would never have let me have one-on-one time with Aim if I hadn't done that. I laugh softly at what happened today, and the images of Aim flood my head, sending a wave of heat through my shameless body that makes me cringe.

" You don't have to worry so much about me, pal. I'm fine. And stop freaking out and making bad blood. It's not good for your health at all." I said all this with a smile, my mind elsewhere because I felt on cloud nine. My emotions are against me.

" So, where have you been?" Zack asked with authority.

" I went out having some fun; this has nothing to do with you. So, good night, Zack. " I don't like the tone he used at all.

" Wen, I haven't finished yet," he shouted at the other end of the line in a firecracker. I can't even imagine what he must look like at this moment.

" Well, guess what? I'm done. " I heard myself say as I hung up. I threw the phone on the bed and headed for the bathroom when it started ringing again.

" Zack, I'm going to sleep, so leave me alone and do the same, or help yourself with something else," I yelled like crazy each time he pissed me off. I found myself yelling at him.

" Uh! I bother you, then I... "

I was startled to the core hearing this voice, and the phone almost burned my fingers when I heard the very calm voice mixed with an undertone of wild sensuality of Aim instead of Zack on the other end of the line.

I dove into the bed head first to hide my head in the pile of pillows lying on the big bed. Without saying a word, I started chewing my thumb nervously. And Aim doesn't say a word either, and I can't figure out what to say in my current state.

I indeed like his outspokenness and such, but at the same time, it can be very confusing and embarrassing with him; if you are stuck on a subject, don't even count on him; he will not make an effort to help you get out.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, he said, "good night," and I jumped up again to sit in the middle of the bed. I am a little jumpy and stuff like that.

" No, please don't hang up."

"Are you sure?"

" Yes, sure, stay a little bit. I was a little surprised. I didn't expect you to call me. "

"I understand. Sorry for calling out of the blue without your permission; Cody got your number and..."

" Don't worry. I'm glad you called and thanked Cody for being so forthcoming and thoughtful. "

"Are you sure about that?" He asked with a bit of concern.

" Yeah, it's OK, we did a lot of things today, which exceeded the limits, yet we forgot to exchange our numbers, which should have been done since our first meeting at least."

He laughed a little and answered.

"We will say that we are a bit special. With us, it's the cart before the horse. "

It's my turn to laugh heartily now. I feel the anxiety that gripped me when he left earlier fly away, and my body relaxes at the sound of his melodious, deep voice.

We talked for several minutes; Zack started calling me during our conversation; I didn't flinch. I was a little afraid he wouldn't burst into my room like a madman, but he didn't. I thank him internally for having controlled himself on this point.

When we said goodbye, it was one o'clock past, almost two A.M. in the morning. Strangely, I didn't worry about spending all that time on the phone at the expense of my sleep time. And I felt that there was nothing to worry about. I'm not an accessory to Aim.

.....

After getting that call from Zack, in a panic, I realized how far my son and I were from each other. Apart from the fact that we lived under the same roof, I knew nothing about him, yet I only have one son, the one and only.

He is an intelligent and charming boy who does not have the build and posture I would have liked, but he is mine.

I realized I had no number to contact him, let alone know where he might be. He changed his number without my knowing it, whereas Edgar knows everything about him, his number, the places he usually goes to, and the few friends he has in common with Zack.

And me? Well, I only know a little.

When I saw the reality I was living in, I feared something would happen to him. I was afraid my son would never forgive me for all the nonsense I did to him, and I was scared that my conscience would never be at peace because of my stubbornness in wanting a son who looks like me as if he were responsible for his delicacy. As if I was the very meaning of man or something, who am I?

While others may envy my son's innate talents and all he has, I reject them. While other parents cherish their children whom do nothing but embarrass them at all costs, I do everything to embarrass mine.

I realized how stupid and selfish I was, and I was ashamed of myself, of my behavior towards Ewen and my wife, and especially ashamed of my state of mind. I realized that the adult wasn't me but Wen.

He does everything with excellence. But I never took the time to congratulate him, and I never took the time to understand him. A man is not only muscle and strength. A man is also delicacy, tenderness, and gentleness.

My son is all that and even more. My son is clever, charming, and handsome or gorgeous. My son is a piece of art of inestimable beauty and value. My son is a delicate flower. That's life, and he's in perfect health too.

After all these years of pushing him to hate who he is and making fun of him, how will I get him to forgive me for my stupidity, indifference, and lack of common sense? I saw how he looked at me when I went to look for him outside. He must hate me; I feel like he saw a ghost.

My son excelled in dance, but because of me, he gave up. I bring everything back to me and leave him aside. I took them for granted. My wife never complains. Her son and work interested her; she lost her passion for me because of my stubbornness and stupidity.

I know this because I have seen the signs. I wanted to talk to my son for a while, but he was on the phone talking joyfully, and I didn't want to disturb him by showing up at his door, something I'd never done before.

I have to find a way to take back my place in my boy's life. I came home early today to find a clue. I didn't even know where to start; it was like living with a stranger. So, I went to the living room to watch videos of him, his mother's recordings, and those recitals I missed. And I realized that I had missed my son's whole childhood, and he continued to grow up without me. Whose fault is it?

Admittedly, I grew up in a family with the idea that a man must have a specific appearance and capacity to be considered as such; that men are dominant males, the pillars of society and the family; and that they should be firm and show no trace of weakness.

I let these archaic rules define my relationship with my son. I wanted to please my parents while I made the pulpit of my pulpit suffer. Moreover, a man cries, complains, needs attention, takes care of himself, and feels fragile sometimes or even all the time. A man is also a human being, made of flesh and blood. I had forgotten that I had put aside this definition of a human being.

I watched Ewen's videos over six hours when he was no taller than three apples. He grew so fast and, with such grace, brought tears to my eyes. I feel like I saw him as a baby only yesterday. I don't want to miss a single moment of my baby's life. I want to find my son and be there for him.

All those who think and say that a man should be a rock devoid of emotions, feelings, and such... all of them must go to hell, fuck them.

I want my son as he is, with beauty, grace, flexibility, fragility, sensitivity, delicacy, and tenderness. It's the son I have; he's the one who must count for me. I don't think I could fix things with my wife; I've done too much, and I don't think she'll accept me, but I'll do my best to reunite my family like in the days when Wen was just an adorable, cute baby.

Although that hasn't changed at all, he's still sweet but has a sharp tongue.

Fuck my dad, too, even though I'm the only one responsible... I should never have put all these atrocities on my family to please a stuck-up, smug older man. My actions are my responsibility. I am the only one to blame.

But isn't it too late for awareness now? What will I have to do to redeem myself?

....

Is he serious, or is he acting as Ewen said?

We can't say anything for the moment, but we know that it's challenging to change our state of mind just in one night; otherwise, there wouldn't be all the suffering that gnaws at our world.

>>>>>

I remained for a moment leaning on the frame of the door of our room to contemplate my wife, my tender and sweet wife—shame on me for being so stupid to walk away from them. I go back to the living room, watching those videos from all those years ago. I've lost sight of what mattered most in the lives of my most prized possessions.

I poured myself a whiskey and sipped; I have no damn right to feel sorry for myself. I looked for it. From today, I will do everything to get my son back. Watching his videos made me understand how talented he was and what he sacrificed to please me and protect his mother.

I'm sure he only did it for his mother's sake. He doesn't really care about me, either. My business has had ups and downs despite my skills and desire to follow in my father's footsteps.

I make mistakes, not just once; I never hear them complain about it and always demand more from them. A protective mother toward her son does everything to prevent me from getting angry with him, and a protective son towards his mother does everything to protect her from me. I was the only one who sacrificed nothing for them.

It's time for me to invest in this family, which is mine, but how? I'm not talking about money; they have everything they need on that side. I wanted to help Wen earlier; he was scared when he saw me. I saw the disappointment in his eyes when he noticed it was not his mother but me.

I'm sure his gaze would have been something else if it were anyone else but me.

I no longer want to experience the helplessness I face today. I tried to contact my son after Zack called, but I couldn't because I was too selfish to consider him as he was.

….....

I woke up late; I quickly took my bath without forgetting my routine. I slept like a light-hearted baby and felt like new this morning, as light as a feather, and I kept performing an extremely well-done pas de bourree and some pirouettes. That's not negotiable.

Imagine that I last exercised quite a while ago, two years since I stopped a year after being named etoile. I was sixteen years old. My mum was over the moon, but she couldn't talk about it when my dad was around, so I ended my career and focused on architecture. Watching her hold back when the others broached the subject was almost torture.

I never performed even the simplest or most basic steps again. Sometimes I do my stretches. I don't feel like getting rusty either, and it's my way of staying healthy, lean, and slender.

Haha, I told you, I have my own way of staying in shape. My bathroom has a bar for my stretches out of sight of others.

This morning, I already made some basic moves to warm up.

I left my room doing pirouettes, forgetting the world around me, almost forgetting where I was. I don't know why I'm in this mood, but this feeling of well-being makes me feel good. I feel like I am living, breathing. I am alive.

I went down the stairs doing flexible balance jumps of extreme flexibility. I was about to perform a double pirouette when I heard applause at the bottom of the stairs. I stopped dead in my tracks, a little too abrupt even, which almost made me lose my balance. I feel like I've never stopped. Ah, how beautiful.

He was there, standing with a big smile that scared the hell out of me more than anything scary in this world, spread over his face. I had forgotten how handsome he was. I bow before continuing down the stairs one by one, dragging my feet. All my beautiful joy has vanished.

Arriving at his height, his freshly used after-shave hit me in the face, bringing back many memories. He keeps smiling, and it makes me feel uncomfortable.

He looks silly. I can't stand him like that for long. Seeing him like this is not healthy, and it isn't comforting.