Clementine shifts uncomfortably where she sits on the couch with Duke, and Duke holds her hand in his as he keeps her from rushing over to us and dispersing the conversation that's about to occur.
Rafael nods once after hearing my answer, and then begins to talk.
"Well," says Rafael, "in order to explain anything in full, I should know what you are aware of at this moment. So, why don't you tell me what's been found out by you?"
"Well," I say as I internally agree that I should probably let him know as that will assist in a fuller understanding, "I know that you and Azrael aren't on good terms. And, I think that might have to do with your past. Something in both of your pasts."
I pause once, trying to think of something else that I've figured out, and Rafael also nods as he confirms what I've already said.
"And," I recall some of the more recent understandings, "there's the strange behavior that Azrael seems to take in those pictures. Where he drifts away from everybody."
"Also," I say as I say the final bit of information on my mind, "there's that mysterious girl in the pictures. I don't know if she's directly related to Azrael, but she seems to be so, as Azrael seemed to hide her picture after I found it."
"Yes," says Rafael with a nod, "he did hide it yesterday."
"But," says Rafael as he continues, "I think I will start to clear up some of the other things you observed before tackling...her."
Shelly shifts uncomfortably in her chair and ducks her head for a moment before looking back up. Everyone present looks at either Rafael or I, and I know they are not abstaining any of their attention from the two of us.
"Azrael...detests me," start Rafael, "maybe he's justified. No. He is right in being so, as I have not treated him as a father should have, even before he was born."
"What do you mean?" I ask, confused. How can you treat a child who's not even born wrong?
"Well," says Rafael as he ducks his head in shame, "I wanted him to be aborted. That was what I desired."
"Oh," I say as I realize there was that way.
"But that decision unfortunately had ramifications on my own son who was indeed born," says Rafael as he rubs his hands together, "as, he found out eventually after my return that I had, in a sense, wanted him dead. That drove him away."
"Is that," I say as I point to the hallway with the many pictures, "what caused the distance to form? Between him and everybody else?"
"Yes," answers Shelly, and I can tell that she's the one who told Azrael Rafael's input, "after he learned of that he more or less pushed everyone away. Me, Clementine, Luke, the other kids, and even Duke, who might as well have been his first father."
"It was awful," says Clementine from the couch where she sits, "it's one thing where your child who would run to you with kisses when younger gets older and then eventually distances themselves. It's all a part of growing up and becoming the self you find. But with Azrael, he pushed everyone away out of fear. He feared all of the people in his own family, his own blood. The blood that tried to kill him."
"Several times, it got to a point where Azrael left the house for weeks, staying outdoors and only returning when school started back up or he needed clothes to change into," says Duke, "it's something to see you precious baby brother full of waking nightmares."
"He never forgave you?" I ask Rafael.
"I wouldn't ask for him to forgive me for that," says Rafael, "his mother chose his life instead of nothing new, and I should have as well. After what I did. The fact that I said to betray my own blood doesn't rest well with me, and I know that there's no concrete agreement about that, but I don't think it was right of me to try that."
"And Azrael, well," says Shelly, "he may hide it now, and burn that part of himself to not expose it, but he loves people. He can only find good in a person. Even in Rafael, he initially found the good parts. Honesty, compassion, and modesty. And he trusts people, no matter how much he is aloof."
I am aware of that, Azrael searches in your face what is in your heart. The grey eyes inviting kindly all that you have that is worthwhile, that which is so worthwhile, he can bring forth. Azrael isn't perfect, but he is perfectly capable of knowing what is the best in you, and loving you for that.
"But," continues Shelly with a sigh from the bottom of her stomach, "the fact of his pre-birth was what pulled the capstone from his virtue. He fell in on himself, and in the tumbling cascade he pulled all his trust out of everyone. Nobody was ever near him again, and it hurt to see that."
"I think I know what you mean," I say, "well, not exactly. I know that he can find the best part in anybody. He found it in me, at least. And maybe that makes him an exceptional individual and leader."
"You're right," says Duke, "I met him when he was two, and he immediately ran up to me arms up. One might say naïve, but he's not. He knows there's evil in the world, but he chooses to trust you even in the shadow of people's vice."
Duke looks down sadly at his knees, "I think I was one of the most hurt by his departure, and his eschewing behavior."
"And not to mention," says Clementine as she looks sternly at Rafael, "that's not all there is to it."
"No," says Rafael with a slow nod, "that's not all there is to it."
He turns to look at me, and I can tell that there's something else, something that is much more hefty than what was just said, that is in need of being said.
"When Shelly," says Rafael as he nods to his wife, "said that she was not the mother of Azrael, she was telling the truth."
"Are...are you the father?" I ask, thinking that they may share the same characteristic.
"Oh, no I am most definitely the father of Azrael. However much I fail at being so, I still am that," says Rafael with a wry smile, "I can hardly refute that."
"Then," I say as I try to understand what's being said and draw a conclusion, "I don't mean to insult, but...does that mean Azrael was the result of infidelity?"
"Well," says Rafael as he ducks his head, "that is a way to say it, but the truth is far more than just infidelity."
"You know," says Rafael as he points to Clementine, "that when being specific, Clementine is Azrael's sister?"
"Yes, but why is there any need for specification?" I ask and answer.
"Well," says Clementine, "it's because there's a significant age difference for two siblings. Almost seventeen years of a difference."
"That's...pretty big."
"It is," agrees Rafael, "and there's a specific reason behind it."
"Why?"
"Azrael," starts Rafael, "was born from a girl who should not have been pregnant at the age she had him."
"How old was she?" I ask, as my stomach begins to turn into ugly knots.
"Thirteen," answers Rafael, Clementine, and Shelly together.
Shelly rubs her forehead as she recalls the entire situation from years ago.
"Who's the mother?" I ask.
"She's no longer around," says Rafael as he sighs, "she passed away in childbirth. Her death is a testament to the fact that teens should not be having babies."
"Who was the mother?" I ask, changing my question.
Rafael pauses, trying to find a way to explain his answer, and he manages to do so after a few more moments.
"That girl, you saw in the picture," he says as he nods to the hallway, "the one you mentioned. Her name is Theresa. She was the mother."
"But," says Shelly as she sighs again, another one in a long line of exhales, "she was also my daughter, and she was from a previous marriage before Rafael."
There's a silent void that seems to open on each side of my head, and slowly, I begin to realize the extent of what was just.
Azrael was the child of a stepdaughter and stepfather. He was born out of the most uncomfortable backgrounds. No wonder he couldn't tell me this, I can't even stomach this reality. That this kind of reality even exists now is hard to believe, with all the splendors of development in the world, there's still looming sins that dot the world in subtle spires of pain and shame.
"Azrael found this out himself in tandem that he was almost killed before he was even born," says Clementine from the couch, "when he was barely old enough to understand the world. A child was told that! Forget whether it was right or wrong, just the impact on the poor kid!"
Clementine leans forward with her face in her hands and elbows on her knees. Duke rubs her back as she sobs quietly. I never intended to make anybody cry from this disclosure. Not ever.
"There technically wasn't any genetic issues, thankfully," says Shelly as in front of her face she clasps her hands almost as if in grateful prayer, "Azrael was born healthy, and I'm still grateful for that. My grandson was born alright."
"But," I say as I try to ask question even though I feel already sick to my stomach, "your daughter?"
"She and I will meet again someday," says Shelly, her face turning away.
I take a moment to just try and catch a breath, and swallow just the huge information that is so shocking as it trails dragging fingers down my throat. If I can barely come to terms with an aspect of not even myself, it's only imaginable the psychological damage that still plagues his inside.
Just as I think about him, I hear the front door open and two pairs of feet step into the house. Everyone who was part of the conversation quickly moves to erase evidence of it. Clementine quickly dries her eyes and Shelly moves to the sink to get a glass of water to ease her nerves and relax her pale face.
Rafael also moves and goes toward the far end of the kitchen island to sit, where he's giving as much space to Azrael if he comes into the room. Luke calls from the hall for a little help with the groceries, and I feel myself moving to the door to see Azrael. I just learned of his dark past and need to just be near him.
Walking into the hallway I see Azrael setting down a few grocery bags and also pulling off his snow boots. Luke does the same and I can tell that there's a lot that they bought.
"Hey," I say and my voice sounds weak in my mouth, still jarred by the recent conversation.
"Hello, Hogarth," says Azrael as he straightens up and connects his eyes with me, then tilts his head.
"You're a little pale," he says as he observes my face more, "are you unwell?"
"No!" I say as I hide my disturbed state, "Not at all! I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" asks Azrael curiously as he steps forward and peers at my face.
"Yes," I say, and to prove my point smile, "I'm alright."
"Hmm. Well, if you say so."
Azrael grabs some of the groceries and walks toward the kitchen, and Luke also looks at me with a concerned, but I smile again and he shrugs before walking off with the groceries. I grab the remaining ones.
Walking into the living room and kitchen, I see Azrael at the fridge putting produce away. Shelly helps him while Rafael sits away from the two. Clementine left the room to the bathroom to clean her face, and Duke sits quietly on the couch watching the TV.
"Did something happen?" asks Azrael to Shelly as I set down the grocery bags I carried to the kitchen, "Hogarth seemed disturbed, and everyone is deadly quiet."
"Oh, no," says Shelly quickly, "there's nothing. I think everyone is just getting hungry and are trying to keep quiet so that their hungry attitudes don't leak into their voices."
"Oh, makes sense," says Azrael, and he doesn't ask more, letting the clandestine conversation abscond from realization.
Thankfully. I sigh with relief, and Azrael doesn't hear it.