minutes later, she was clutching the heavy, old books, and making her way back to the table they’d been sitting at. Aries stood beside her, his big arms crossed and still like a tree. If she didn’t know him, she’d be intimidated out the wazoo. Heat radiated off him. Not the kind that kindled, the one that came from deep within a hardened soul. She began to open the books, one by one, and flipping through them. She hated every second of it – the hunt for nothing, or perhaps, everything.
“Simple,” the man stated, his voice rumbling.
She looked up at him.
“What?”
“A garden. You mentioned that earlier. Book lovers, bibliophiles see libraries and book stores as gardens. So, what about that one?” He pointed to one of the smaller books, one about flowers titled, ‘Perennial Combinations: Stunning Combinations That Make Your Garden Look Fantastic Right from the Start.’
If she were honest, that would have been one of the last ones she’d suspect. The cover was attractive with its vibrant, rainbow colored blooms. Nothing simple about it. She shoved the other books aside, and picked up the one in question. As soon as she turned the first page, there it was. A folded piece of lined paper.
Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. Aries had been right. She gingerly unfolded it and read the all-too-familiar first lines before passing it onto Aries. All she could do was sit there and look straight ahead, praying there was nothing horrible in those lines. Hoping he’d find some kind of apology. He sat in his original seat and began to read the words aloud…
If you’ve ever been a member of a pretentious family, then you’d understand. Everything about my father was make believe. He showed the world one side of him, the good side, the brilliant side, the kind side, but behind closed doors, we saw him in his full, disastrous glory. Life was no bed of roses with him. He attempted to strangle my spirit every chance he got like a weed with prickly points thrusting its way out of the soil of a rose garden. He succeeded. These are not excuses for my behavior or thought processes, nor for willfully emotionally and physically abandoning my son. They are, however, facts about how I came to be and why I made the choices that I did.
Being a father is a choice. We choose to make love in most cases, thus risking the chance of creating life. I certainly wasn’t going to deny myself female companionship and intimacy of any kind. I attempted to remove a possible consequence of such behavior off the table. I don’t know what letter you found first, so I will simply restate that I had a vasectomy but I know, without a doubt, that Aries Creed is my biological son. Other letters I have written will go into further detail regarding this, but here, I’d like to concentrate on the topic at hand. I am not certain of my belief that God punishes, saves and rewards, so I cannot say that a higher power intervened. Yet, I can say it is apparent to me that sometimes, no matter what we do, things will transpire that are out of our control. My father, however, and his father before him, and so on, decided to pursue the curse, rather than break it – as if it was their selfish civic duty to carry on their bloodline.
The boys were particularly valuable, for we would carry the family name. My brother and I were tortured endlessly and our mother did little to come to our aid in our time of need. A typical day for us Creed boys was to endure being woken up in the wee hours of the morning with a bell or horn. We had to get up and do exercises that he said would make us disciplined, big and strong. This often went on until I or my brother threw up, our bodies gave out, or we fainted. If we got a less than perfect grade in our studies, we were punished with either a lack of food for several days, beaten, or verbally berated. Perhaps all three if he’d been drinking.
My father had a rather thick Southern accent. He travelled abroad once, and when he returned, he realized he hated his own voice. He hired coaches to help him rid himself of the dialect. I barely heard it and was surprised to learn that he’d been born and