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Fuck!
My mind drifts—unwanted, unwelcome—to her.
My daughter.
Moya zvyozdochka.
My little star.
Alexis.
She is a woman now.
Is she safe?
Is she happy?
Those are the types of questions which gnaw at me daily.
Francesco clears his throat, but I raise a hand.
Our gazes lock, two lions sizing each other up.
Years ago, we wouldn’t have hesitated to kill each other without blinking.
And now?
Now, we’re talking about family.
Ourfamily.
“Our past isourpast.” I say. “We cannot change what has been done, but our children areourfuture. My sons adore her, and I know she feels safe with them too. Sheissafe with them.”
The silence stretches between us, then finally, he nods.
“They love her.” He admits in a thick voice. “I never thought I would say it, but I have seen them with her, and I know it is true.”
I nod at him, knowing it’s true.
I see it every day at home.
Together, we both sit in silence, two old men battered by life.
Finally, I stand up from my seat as I offer him my hand.
“For them”
He murmurs as he stands up too, accepting my hand.
Firm.
Respecting.
Accepting.
“For them.”
I agree.