Page 74 of Blinded By The Sun
“What’s your name?” I ask as I take a step from behind Ciro.
My father peers up at me with sadness in his eyes. “Czar Vasilièv.”
“Czar Vasilièv,” I repeat it out loud and then another time in my head.
“It means ruler or emperor. The closest I could have to my name for you was King.” He offers.
“You named me King because you wanted a boy,” I state.
“No, I named you King or rather Kingsley because I couldn’t name you Czar. You were always going to have my name. You are my child,” hestates as a matter of fact.
I shake my head. “Nothing makes sense. Uncle Stannis said you would never come back for me and that if you didn’t show up by my 25th birthday, I would belong to the brothel. That I was meant to be a whore. He said you knew this. He said that!” I yell.
My father stands moving out of his seat and walks over closer to me. I take a step back. He looks hurt by it, but he nods like he understands. He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry…” His voice cracks and he tries to clear it but it’s not working for him. Ciro turns to give us a moment. “I, I would have never made you become something like that. That would be spitting on Lora’s grave.”
“Lora?” I ask.
“Your mother,” he says. “That was her name, Lora De la Saint.”
“De la Saint? As in…”
“Yeah. I’m sure your uncle told you that your grandmother left you money in her will, but he never cared to mention who she was or how that would happen?”
I shake my head. “No, he didn’t. He manipulated me.”
I look down, then peer up at my father. He must be at least 6’2. He looks good for his age; his skin isn’t aging badly or anything. He looks healthy. I get curious as I get closer to him. He looks down at me but makes no sudden movements. I blink, trying to store his face and entire body in my memory along with his facial expressions. I sniffle as I tug Ciro with me since I won’t let go of his hand no matter what. I get close to my father and he opens his arms to me. There’s a burning in my throat that engulfs me in such a way that I feel like if I don’t let it all out, I’ll burn from the inside out. I don’t know how to make the last step into his arms, so I squeeze Ciro’s hand tight as I let out a sob that sounds so foreign to me. I form a fist and I thump against my chest because it hurts too damned much. “I, I,” I try to speak and this time my father doesn’t care as he bypasses all protocol and pulls me into his arms.
I’ve never felt the hug of a parent before in my life and to feel it now. To have my father hug me like this while I am crying makes me tear up even more. My father holds on to me. “Shhh…” he says, and he humsClair de Lune. Without me asking, he offers why, “It was your mother’s favorite.” This opens up another dam of tears. I can’t stop the tears as they flow faster, and I cry from deep within me. The lost little girl, the hopeless one. The one who wondered every day where her parents were and if they wanted her, is crying. She’s realized that she no longer has to lick her own wounds because someone will be there to kiss the pain away.
