Smug bastard...who does he think he is, anyway?
Looks at me and come off with that smart-assed remark instead of just taking care of the problem.
Getting moral on me, now.
Looking at me like I am some kind of a monster because I want rid of Tray for Mark's sake.
Let me share a little about parental love and how far we will go for those we love.
It isn't common knowledge, but I had a flesh and blood son once. Just before getting involved with my ex-wife. Tray's mom. That mistake of a lifetime manipulative whore.
Yeah, once I was in love.
Her name was Regina.
I called her Gina. To tell you the truth, back then, I never even knew if it was her real name. Didn't really care. She was just My Gina. Come to find out, it was. She was thin, dark-haired, funny and a prostitute. For a couple of years I was one of her regulars. At the time I hadn't made General yet but I was on my way up. Still, prostitute or not, something clicked between her and I. More than just the sex. Pretty soon I wasn't just another "john" I was spending more and more time with her. Not a "regular" any more. I was her exclusive. About the time I realized I was falling in love with her she ended up pregnant. She told me one night while we were still tangled in her sheets. Tossing popcorn at each other and laughing. When I saw it wasn't a joke I excused myself to her bathroom. I didn't want her to see me cry.
I remember being in a such a state of panic realizing that I could kiss my promotion to General, and my Military career, goodbye if it all came out. It was a different time, then. So it didn't come out. She understood. Somehow, that made it all worse. I chose being a General over the woman I loved. Chose it over the only son I would ever have.
A few years later I married Tray's mom.
At least Gina loved me.
If I have any regret in life. That night, and all the nights that followed, would be it.
Oh, I kept track of them through the years. Sent her money from time to time to help them. Watched him grow up in photographs. Not too much of a replacement for having a Father, I guess. A skinny asthmatic kid. I used to look at him and wonder how much he got beat up and bullied in school. Tortured in gym class? How I wished I could have been there to raise him. Be his Dad.
Anyway, she died, and I lost track for a long time. Then I found him again. This time in the newspapers. In trouble. Murder. He was tried and executed, and I couldn't do a damned thing. Had a façade to maintain. I couldn't even be there for him in the end when he needed me the most.
Damned shrink wants to judge me as a father?
Judge that.
I'd plead guilty, every time.
I blame myself for the way his life turned out.
I had his body flown back to me, though. Buried him right here in the family plot at the back of our property. Next to grandparents he would never know, and who would have loved him.. Headstone and everything. Gave him something I couldn't give him his whole life.
My last name.
