“Oh my God,” I can’t help my laugh, and he chuckles with me.
“When she realized what I’d done. Well, it’s the maddest I’ve ever seen her. I was spanked raw, but she never told Papa.”
He shakes his head, his smile lingering. “The next day, my mother insisted I hold him. She set me up in her rocking chair and placed him in my arms.”
He looks over to me, but he’s a million miles away. “He was mine. From that minute on. He was mine.”
I nod, a hot tear sliding down my cheek.
“Our English was pretty bad the first few years. We struggled quite a bit, and we were not at all prepared for the culture shock. I think Mom considered America the Wild West at the time. She was paranoid, and rarely let me play outside. She and Papa would have fights about it, and she would always win. She was so stubborn.”
“Sounds familiar.”
Tobias rolls his eyes, and I can’t help my answering laugh.
“I hated school, kids being kids and shit, they made fun of my accent, my clothes. When I’d go home, I would take Dominic into my room. And I would play him music, my mother’s old tapes.”
This confession has my heart aching. The music. His mother’s music.
He tosses his cigarette and slides his hands in the pocket of his trench coat, his thick hair falling along his forehead with the sweep of the wind. “He was the happiest baby. Constantly smiling, laughing, and he rarely cried. For a time, he was the one who made things okay. He helped us cope so much those first few years. He was such a joy. And eventually, things got better. Mom let me play outside. We adapted.”
He sighs, eyeing the pack of French cigarettes lying next to him.
“My mom would always come home from the plant exhausted, but she rarely complained, but Papa would talk about the boss who robbed his employees, and they would fight. She would tell him to leave it alone.
“Je ne lui fais pas confiance. Il y a quelque chose dans ses yeux. Il est mort à l’intérieur.” I don’t trust him. Something in his eyes. He’s dead inside.
“She used to beg him to drop it, tell him they were there on a work visa that Roman had helped them get, and they should be grateful. But Papa wouldn’t let it go. He started leaving us alone at night, and often. I didn’t pay close attention to everything, but they had horrible fights sometimes. I remember one night well because it was one of the rare nights Dominic was inconsolable.”
I reach for his hand, and he runs it along his thigh, denying me. I ignore the sting of rejection.
“My parents were not the type to fight behind closed doors, so I would lock Dominic in the closet with me in the hall just outside their bedroom so I could keep an eye on my mother. Papa was never violent, but he was aggressive enough to scare me.”
I cough out my sarcasm, and he looks at me pointedly. “Shut up.”
“You got it, apple.”
“He wasn’t my birth father.”
“But you are very much Beau’s son.”
“That’s true.” He lights another cigarette and inhales deeply.
“Papa started to talk to me after that. I think he was starting to resent Mom for not understanding that he was trying to do something good, not just for us, but for the other people who worked at the plant. He would take me on walks and give me long speeches on what it meant to be a man. To look out for others. I didn’t think anything of it. I just thought he was trying to raise a good son.”
“Do you think he knew that he was in danger?”
“Looking back now, I think he was losing faith in his hopes for building a life here. Nothing was going as he planned. They were exhausted, not gaining any ground.” He inhales some smoke. “And then the meetings started. They happened in our townhouse, every second week of the month.”
“The brotherhood formed there?”
Tobias nods.
“Frères du Corbeau.” Brothers of The Raven. “I didn’t pay much attention because I was only eleven. But one night, I got bored and hid on the stairwell deciding to listen in. A few of them were calling for drastic actions. Delphine was one of them. You know she’s the one who got my parents the job there.”
I nod.
“She was on board with Papa. A few fights broke out that night, and my mother surprised everyone by standing and speaking out. I’m guessing it was the first time.”
“C’est la peur qui va nous garder en colère, nous garder confus, nous garder pauvres. Nous devons cesser d’avoir peur des hommes comme eux, des gens qui profitent de nous. Si la peur vous arrête, la porte est grande ouverte. Nous ne pouvons pas compter sur vous.” It’s fear that’s going to keep us angry, keep us confused, keep us penniless. We have to stop being afraid of men like this, of the people who take advantage of us. If you’re going to let fear stop you, walk out that door. We can’t afford you.