After a while they were able to sit down together at the dining room table, the old man on one side, the boy’s grandmother on the other, and the boy sitting at the head of the table acting as some sort of mediator.

“What happened?” Asked the boy.

With this question his grandmother began to cry again. The old man turned to the boy, letting his grandmother cry as he began to explain.

“17 years ago, your mother became pregnant with you. Your parents were just out of high school, and your father, my son, felt he had an obligation to provide for his new family, as all fathers do. He was working a small part time job, but it was barely enough to support himself, let alone your mother and you. Your mother was living here, and your father was living with me.” 

The old man sighed, he looked as if he was close to tears. 

“I was a major cannabis dealer in the city at that time, and your father approached me to get into the ‘family business’ as he called it. I never wanted that for your father, and I did my best over the years to shield him from what I was doing. I denied him, and told him I would help him in any way possible, and to stay legit, stay clean, and to sacrifice quick money to achieve longevity.”

The old man turned away from the boy, and he knew that he had begun to cry.

“He did not listen. He cursed me, and called me a hypocrite. He had put some major deal together on his own, with some guys from out of town he had met at his job.” 

The old man turned to the boy, he could see streaks of tears flowing down his grandfather’s face, soaking his thick gray mustache and beard. 

“He stole from where I kept my stash. He never made it back from the deal. They shot your father and took the weed, and the last living memory I have of my son was that moment of the night before it happened. Your mother blamed me, thinking I allowed him to go on the deal alone. She was 7 months pregnant with you, and the news sent her into early labor. She died giving birth to you. She died with a broken heart.”

The boy stared at the table, in a daze. He was floored by all of this, after everything he had experienced in the last few days, this information was the most jarring, shattering everything he knew. But, at the same time, a relief. A final piece in the puzzle that was his life. The picture was now clear for him. The old man smiling when he heard his name. Their willingness to be so trusting with one another so suddenly.

“Why weren’t you around?” The boy asked, feeling ridiculous the moment he asked it.

“They didn’t want me around.” The old man responded. “I traded Rowan my farm for the shop a little while after your father died. I was lost. I tried to find solace by studying mediation, religions, anything. That’s how I found what I found. It helped me to confront my pain, to deal with it, to accept that it wasn’t my fault.” 

The old man turned to him, placing a hand on his, turned to his grandmother, and placed a hand on hers. 

“I have come to learn that people make their own decisions in life. Whether you feel responsible for having influenced these changes or not, in the end, it was their choice alone to make.”

There was a long silence.

In that moment, there existed pain, sadness, longing, forgiveness, and then finally, love. 

“We still have a deal.” Said the boy.

They both smiled. 

His grandmother eyeballed them suspiciously. 

“What deal?”

Next Chapter: Blasphemy