The Man with No Borders: A Novel by Richard C. Morais

Author:Richard C. Morais [Morais, Richard C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542093835
Published: 2019-08-31T22:00:00+00:00

I stare at the ceiling. Shadows are shifting and moving.

My son despises me. This is my legacy.

Someone is coming down the stairs. I turn. It isn’t Sam, but Lisa with my lunch tray. She silently and stiffly puts the tray down in front of me.

Uh oh. You’re in trouble.

“What?”

“You know what. He hasn’t been home in eight years and this is what you start with?”

“He’s too touchy. Still a little boy.”

Her lips are tight and thin—a bad sign.

“You never have the good grace to admit when you are wrong, José. Why can’t you just let people be who they are? It’s so sad to see a man reach this age and still not get it. Really.”

I put my head down and take a slurp of pea soup.

“I am who I am.”

“Yes, you are. And Sam is the way Sam is. Why should one rule exist for you and another for your sons?”

“Joder. You should have been a lawyer.”

“We have raised fine, strong boys, who are decent and know what they want. I hope you appreciate what you have. Before it is too late.”

I don’t respond, but her remark, it sits in the pit of my stomach, with everything else that is already sitting there, and for the first time I really let in the possibility that I might have been wrong all this time.

Maybe this is what this mierda is all about. Perhaps this death is providing me the time to process events and look at things a new way. Maybe I need to rejoice that the boys defied my will, became men in their own right, and found callings that brought meaning to their lives, not mine.

“Tell Sam I am sorry. I won’t bring up the bank again.”

“No. I am tired of being your messenger. You tell him yourself.”

I push the half-eaten bowl of soup away from me. I know I should nibble on a bit of cheese and apple, but my hand won’t reach for the food. I have no appetite. Lisa is sitting on the stool, looking peevishly out the French doors.

“Take the tray away. I’ve had enough. When are Roberto and Juan arriving?”

She turns back in my direction. “I told you. They are flying in together tomorrow morning. Remember? We’ve discussed this a few times already. Sam is going to pick them up at the airport. He’ll take the Volvo.”

“Tell him . . .”

“What?”

“Forget it.”

Green fire is leaping from Lisa’s head, and when she stands to retrieve the tray, the air shimmers around her, like ripples of water lapping out from a lily pad. I don’t know if I should tell Lisa that she is entirely green, wearing armor, and holding a scepter. It might alarm her.

Lisa is now all frog, and her long tongue is lashing the air. “We’re going to have a special dinner in the dining room tonight, to celebrate the fact our oldest son is home. I don’t want any trouble from you, José. Sister Bertha and Sam will help you get upstairs, and I don’t want to hear anything about how you want to stay down here.

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