“Can you tell me about my father?”
That was one question I’d always dreaded. I had played that moment over and over in my head, trying to prepare myself for it. But now that it was finally here, everything I had rehearsed disappeared along with every answer i could give.
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know which version of the story to tell a seven-year-old so o decided to stick with the easiest.
“Gianni,” I began slowly, trying to sound calm. “You’ve never asked about your father before. Why now?”
I was genuinely curious. Yes, I knew he didn’t grow up like other kids, with a father around. But surely he understood what a family looked like — a mother, a father, and a child. He had seen enough of that in the movies. Still, he had never asked. Until now.
“I was curious,” he said s
