The Choice Of Us

Forgive

LUIS

She's mine.

All mine.

Since the day when the sun burned a beautiful orange glow we vowed to be together. And chose to love despite what has happened simply because we needed each other. After everything, after all the forces chose to be against us, I was glad she still saw a good in us and I vowed as I held her close on that day to destroy any of her fears or doubt.

And since then things had begun to fall into place for us. The demons that tried to torment me began to slowly become a minor feature whose power depleted from her every kiss and hug. Sometimes at night I felt her tracing my scar delicately with her fingertips. I was sure she assumed I was fast asleep, unaware of her habit. But despite it initially making me uncomfortable whenever I touched it- it felt different when she did it. I relished in her acceptance of me, regardless of everything.

Tapping my foot impatiently in my seat to cope with the nerves thinking about her made me grow both calm and excited. And right now once I caught sight of his profile moving towards me with the cuffs on his wrists, thinking about her was the perfect remedy to keep me from breaking the glass to strangle him.

He took a seat across from me, his eyes raking over me. His face remained blank but ever since the day I saw him, there was no denying how identical he looked to my biological father. It made me unsettled, however, I had been fighting with myself whether I would bother visiting him and talk to him if it weren't for Tiana herself once saying in order to get closure . . . sometimes you need to face that which you don't want to. So here I was.

"Fancy seeing you here."

"Well I figured since our last family reunion involved you nearly killing me . . . that maybe- just maybe . . ."

"We try," he finished watching me closely. I could see his jaw clenching; he looked to the side seeming to debate with himself. And I was convinced he'd be stubborn. Refuse to talk until he broke the silence after releasing a heavy sigh.

"You know I used to wonder why dad was always particularly hard on me. I mean sometimes when I would just be sitting there . . . doing nothing and he'd just look at me with so much," he gripped the phone tightly rubbing a frustrated hand through his curly hair," hate. Like just my existence alone was what was wrong with this world."

"He had no right to make you feel that way," I said trying to keep my voice levelled despite wanting to yell out in frustration." And you didn't choose to be born."

"Ma- I mean Lisa," he chuckled lightly leaning back," she's been coming to see me. Can you believe that- even after all that I've done? Guess she must feel guilty for leaving m-"

"Don't do that," I shook my head frowning," I'm not going to say she's perfect but she could have used the bullshit you pulled as reason enough to validate why she shouldn't bother being around you."

"Only because she left me with that racist fuck!" he spat moving forward in an attempt to intimidate me. I would have scoffed right there if it weren't for the fact I wanted to leave this place knowing I had made an effort.

"I grew up with him, remember. And before you cut me off," I raised my hand when I saw him open his mouth to interject," I'm aware I was fortunate enough to have a mother who cared enough to keep me away from him. I wish . . . you had had someone there to at least look out for you."

"I prefer to be on my own," he replied crossing his arms.

"Look around you, stuck in a place like this you need someone. And though I'd like to fucking kill you for ever laying a hand on her," I paused leaning forward as if what I was about to say was a secret just for us to know," looking at you now up close, I actually pity you. The shit I've gone through alone makes me wince but you," I tilted my head scrutinizing him," must have gone through things that can make anyone unstable."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? Knowing that you see me as incapable of functioning. . . I have to live with the fact I hated and mistreated people when a part of me belonged to one of them," his voice wavered giving a glimpse into the internal conflict rolling inside him. It didn't baffle me at all seeing his eyes begin to shine due to the tears gathering in them reminding me that despite my contempt for him, he was still a human. Some part of him still felt something.

"I wish things had been different- despite myself I wish it hadn't been you to have caused all this for him," I spat the word referring to my own father whom I had yet to visit. He'd never know it but I had forgiven him not for his sake.

But for mine.

"And I honestly wish that we had grown up under better circumstances."

"I gave up wishing a long time ago."

"You can change things around," I suggested.

Only to have him scoff in the response," How?"

"You get that book I sent you?"

His frown dropped to what I could only assume was the closest thing I'd get of a genuine smile out of him," Yeah . . . hate to admit it- but shit's good. Kind of makes me hate our father even more knowing he was the reason for his demise."

"I learnt a long time ago that holding all those ill feelings can be detrimental to you. . . I'm still learning as I go. And I'm glad you're starting to see different on things but it's your decision to make where you go from here. And know," I paused contemplating my next choice of words," I'm not forgiving you nor is Tiana forgiving you simply because you deserve it but only because she especially deserves some form of peace. Have a nice life, Cain," I didn't wait to hear his response nor did I bother to look at him after I said all that I needed to say as I walked away. Knowing that I had decided to leave it up to him to figure out what he wanted.

I certainly knew a long time ago where I stood. That night past the searing pain of the blade on my neck as a threat to choose prejudice over equality- I followed the light. I saw that there's a beauty that came with people being different, having different stories such that I was of the belief that anyone who saw otherwise obviously lacked the ability to appreciate the creativity God had in making humanity. . .