What do you mean it isn’t Dad? If not, then who is it?

I was anxiously peering into the beloved eyes of my father, which had suddenly become those of a stranger, and I couldn’t understand what was going on. With a discreet smile he kept looking away, gazing uneasily at the unfamiliar, tanned woman and the two dark-skinned boys sitting at the cafe table next to him. He was silent.

“You must have mistaken him for someone, dear,” the woman said tenderly, leaning towards me and casting a disapproving look at my father.

Were they kidding me?

“Dad, why are you sitting here? And why didn’t you come visit us today? Your business trip is over, isn’t it?” I tried to catch my dad’s eyes.

It was a summer Sunday afternoon. I knew that dad was always going on business trips to other cities over the weekends. The fact that he was suddenly here with complete strangers was absolutely inexplicable.

“Where is your mom, darling?” the lady asked, still smiling, but the tone in her voice was no longer so tender.

I looked around, searching for Mom. She was standing in line for ice cream. She had sent me to look for an available table because I was already seven years old and I was supposed to be helping my mom, but instead I met Dad here. I completely forgot about the table.

Why was he sitting here with them? And why would he even need them? It was so weird...

He hadn’t been around for about two whole weeks and I really missed him. I kept bothering my mom asking her all the time when he was coming back. But she would simply wave me off, saying, “Don’t you worry! Your dear daddy is coming back soon.”

It seemed to me that Mom didn’t really need Dad. I overheard her talking with Sveta, a friend of hers, about things like whether my dad had been transferring money to her bank account or how many days he had been there this time. She was also saying all sorts of confusing things about him. She said he was like a sailor under fifty who had a child in every port and that she should find some normal and free man. But mom laughed in response. She responded that she needed the money to live. It hurt me to hear what Mom was saying. And I never liked Sveta, so I would always go to my room to watch cartoons whenever she came to visit. I was not getting why they called my dad a ‘sailor’. I mean, he worked at the computer. It was painful to hear that about my father.

“Son, what are you doing here?”

I turned around. My mom was holding a bowl of ice cream in her hands and looking at my nose. Didn’t she notice my dad behind me!? But how? Is she blind or something?

I wanted to grab my mother by the shoulders and shake her with all my might. I wanted to scream bad words at her in the hopes that she would come to her senses and take Dad away from these…

But the lump in my throat wouldn’t let me utter a word. My mom just looked at my forehead where my eyebrows met and stayed silent. She refused to acknowledge my father.

The people at dad’s table stared at her, and my father was smiling the entire time, trying not to meet my mother’s eyes or those of the woman at the table.

My world was being turned upside down. I stood between my parents and looked from Mom to Dad. Finally, the lump in my throat burst and tears poured out like a stream. Mom silently placed the bowls of ice cream on the table, took my hand, and quickly left the cafe.

“Hello? Hi, Sveta? Guess who I just met at the ice cream shop. My Mike. With his entire brood. I know, I know, I’m shocked too. The idiot just returned from the sea and couldn’t think of any better place to go than there for lunch. Well, yes, we were between Odesa and Kyiv, and he knows everything here. Anyways, nevermind. Nick saw him and went over to him. I don’t know. But what about Mike? He just sat there quietly and smiled like a deer caught in the headlights. The boys are quite big. Her? As sleek and pampered as a queen. Okay. Edward called me yesterday… You know, the lawyer. Yes, nothing. He asked me out to a restaurant. I think I’ll go. Mike? I don’t know. I’m tired of this already. A divorce? No, not really. He’s a pushover, don’t you know that?”

I meandered behind my mother in a park that was filled with joy. My tears had dried, but I remained silent, looking straight ahead indifferently. For the first time in my life, I didn’t want cars, monsters, or even a damn wheel. I hated the smiling faces of the people around and I didn’t hear their voices. It seemed like they were just chattering lips that moved towards me before disappearing behind me. Even Mom was like a beautiful clockwork doll that was only made to seem alive. The real world consisted of the warmth of Dad’s arms, his sad eyes, the long days of waiting until his arrival, the smell of his cologne, his natural stutter, and his gray hair. Not to mention his unfailing “Well, Nick, what things have you nicked without me?”

Each time Dad arrived, it was a big day. I always missed him so much!

I vaguely guessed who that lady and the adult boys at the cafe were, but this did not fit with the thoughts I had in my mind. I saw only the embarrassment in Dad’s eyes and I realized it might have been the last time we saw each other. Now I am alone. This thought seemed to pour over me like a cold wave, but I wasn’t crying anymore. I was quietly walking through the park that I was loathing, moving farther away from Dad...

***

While my email loaded, the events of that Sunday flashed before my eyes as if fifteen years hadn’t passed between then and now. Even the lump in my throat was the same lump my seven-year-old self had.

My cursor hovered over the email icon.

Click.

At that time, father had been leading a double life.

I have no idea how he had done it… Those were two different worlds. I wouldn't be able to do it myself. He’s probably over sixty now. The other day I found him on the internet, wrote him a letter, and was now waiting for his response.

Ooops! There was one unread message.

My heart sank.

Click.

From: Litvinyuk Michael Nikolaevich

My heart raced even faster.

Click.

***

“... And I leisurely pulled out of the parking lot, the car was filled with my family’s deathly silence. A serious conversation awaited me at home. But that was for later. I figured my wife wouldn’t ask questions with the kids nearby, so I had 300 kilometers to think.

"In the years preceding, the provincial town had practically become my second home. Eight years earlier, I received a very good position and an excellent offer. The salary covered all the inconveniences of traveling and the burden of weekly flights home for the weekends. There was little sense in moving the family from Kyiv as my wife had a good job in the capital, the boys were attending the ‘right’ school… and then Julia, your mother, a girl half my age at the time, appeared in my life.

“I took the news of her pregnancy calmly. Gradually, everything worked itself out. Money used to solve most of the problems. I had two homes. You were growing older, and I was becoming more attached to you. I used to promise your mother that I would get divorced, but there was always something in the way. I’m ashamed to admit that everything felt quite natural for me. Although, of course, I noticed that your mom, by and large, only wanted money from me. She had ceased being the innocent, young girl whom I had met and had matured into a person whose appetite grew with each passing day.

“But the incident that Sunday made me view the situation from a different perspective through the eyes of a seven-year-old boy who, of course, knew nothing, and for whom I was just a father without any fine print. On the way home, I recalled the pain and confusion in your eyes and I realized how much you needed me. A sudden, simple yet merciless thought stunned me after all that was said and done, one that told me Nick was the only one who truly loved me. My older sons lived according to their own interests and have become strangers. My wife was just a business partner in the family business. And my relationship with your mother had long been the role of a reliable and convenient sponsor.

“The rest of the way I couldn’t think of anything else. I saw only your confused expression in front of me, and I realized that perhaps we had met for the last time. Now I’m alone. That thought washed over me in a cold wave and my heart felt like it was in a vice. But I didn’t show it. I just gripped the steering wheel even more firmly, driving the car along the highway that I loathed as I moved farther away from my son…”

It was difficult to look at the screen through the blur of tears. I didn’t wipe them away. I just started to blink more often.

The mixed-up letters finally lined up into even rows again. At the end of the letter, there was a mobile number. I took out my phone and began to tap buttons.

Contacts… Add New… Dad...