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"Are you dead, Dad?"
"Not as long as I'm in your heart."
I can't help but think that means he is dead. I heard a saying once that went something like we die twice, the first time at our physical death, and the second time at the death of the last person who remembers us. I don't know what makes me think of that except that perhaps I’ll be the last person to remember my father. Even my child won't know him. I feel guilty at the thought that maybe it's best he won't meet my child. Not if he's like Liam. Not if he's bad.
"Did you do the things they said you did?" I ask.
He looks down, as if in shame. But then he lifts his head, his gaze straight on me. "Everything I've done since the day you were born has been for you."
His words fill me with anger. "Liam says the same thing to justify killing people."
He's quiet for a moment. "Tell me, baby girl, where is the line that you would draw in protecting your child? Under what circumstances would you step aside and let your child die?"
"I will do anything to protect my baby."
His brow arches. "Even kill?"
I swallow hard, understanding what he's getting at, but I also know the situations aren’t the same. "I'm not going to go out and start murdering people for a criminal business. But if he were in danger, I’d do anything including give my life."
His smile is bittersweet. "And somehow, you think that situation is different from me. Or even Liam."
"You were involved in organized crime, Dad. You're the one who put yourself and me in danger."
His eyes turn sad. "That's not true, baby girl. I was no saint. The law had gray areas for me, but going over to the dark side only happened the minute your future was threatened."
Is that true? I'm dreaming, and so perhaps all this is wishful thinking. That my dad was forced to help the Mafia and didn’t go willingly like Liam did.
“Like you, there's nothing I wouldn't do to protect you. When it comes to those we love, there's nothing we wouldn't do."
My thinking about my father shifts. It brings up questions that I have to ask Liam or maybe Niko about. They're not necessarily new questions, only questions I'd been afraid to ask because I didn't want to know if my father had been bad. My thoughts around Liam don't shift at all because there’s one glaring difference between my father and Liam. Liam doesn't love me. He might be protecting me, but it’s not out of love.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that, baby girl.”
I frown because I know I didn't speak my thought out loud. This is a dream, I remind myself. It's not real.
"I'm not proud of what I did, but I don't regret doing it. I’d do it again in a minute if it meant keeping you safe. Knowing that in my last desperate act, you were protected."
"What does that mean? What did you do?"
He rises from the bed, and desperation fills me that he's going to leave. "Liam is not so different from me. Try not to be too hard on him." My father's image shimmers and dissipates.
"Dad, don't go. Please don't leave me."
But he’s gone. I’m alone.
I shudder at the feeling, rolling over and snuggling deeper into the blankets as if they’ll offer the warmth and protection I’m needing. Eventually, I fall asleep.
When I wake in the morning, the dream is still with me, vivid, almost like it was real. But it wasn't real, I tell myself. Dreams are more like wishful thinking than reality.
I rise from bed and go into the ensuite bathroom to take a shower. I tug on a pair of leggings and a tunic top. I comb out my long hair, leaving it down to dry au naturale. I stare at myself in the mirror, psyching myself up for whatever's about to come. Is Liam going to load me in the car and move me somewhere else again? Are gunmen going to surround the place and burn it down like they did to his cabin? I understand now that I need to be prepared for any of it, for all of it.
When I exit the bedroom, I find Liam staring out the back window with a mug in one hand and a phone in the other.
"Only you, Robbie, or Artyom. Understood? No one else comes to the door. I’ll kill anyone who comes that isn’t you or Artyom."
I shut my eyes at the brutal reminder of the man Liam is. I make a beeline to the kitchen to see what, if anything beyond coffee, is available for breakfast.
I find tea and a mug. After filling the mug with water, I set it in the microwave.
