Ghosts of my Father’s Past

Looking at me you’d never know the stigma of my parentage; I look like your average woman who gets up at 6:00 am every day. I work out, I eat a healthy breakfast, then I shower and go to work. I’m usually on time, granted the subway doesn’t have any issues. 

I didn’t always grow up in New York City. We moved here when I was 12; my dad was a cop in a small town, but he was bored with small town life. He wanted action, like in the movies. So we moved to New York City. Well, just outside the city where we could afford it. Dad transferred and he was ecstatic. Mom was happy for him, and she quickly found a teaching job. My parents flourished, I didn’t. I didn’t make any friends, I kept to myself. Some time after that, I wound up being alone a lot more than anything if my parents were busy – especially if dad was busy. If he wasn’t, he spent all his free time with me until I went to high school.

I used to walk to school, we didn’t live that far. About three months after we moved, I noticed a man watching me walk to school. I was really uneasy about it, even though he didn’t follow me. He just watched me. Every day, from the same tree, he just stood by it and watched. He didn’t seem threatening in any way, just creepy. 

I kept this man’s existence a secret. Some days he was reading the paper, other days he was people-watching, but if he saw me, he watched me. 

Soon after I made some friends in the area, I stopped noticing him, but I did notice another man. I can’t really remember when I realized he was around, but he wasn’t that far from the original man.

Who was still there – when I remembered to check. Same place. Same time. 

I put it out of my head, and generally forgot about these men until I noticed a third. And a fourth. Then one day a woman. 

You know, it wouldn’t have put me off so much if they didn’t all have the same, forlorn look on their faces; that coupled with the fact that they all wore the same clothes every single time I saw them. 

It was also getting harder and harder to ignore these people – especially when more and more were popping up. All over. 

It was sporadic, though, there was really no timeline of when new people would pop up. But the creepiest event was the reservoir. I had made some friends that year, and we went up to the reservoir to drink. There was a group of five adult men up there; all had that same forlorn look on their faces, but it was like my friends didn’t see them. But I did. And they saw us.

I made a comment about the group of men, and everyone looked at me, then at the area the men were standing. 

Then back at me. 

“Lydia, what men?” my friend Maria asked. 

“You don’t see the five guys all standing over there, watching us?” I asked. My friend Matt looked around.

“What men?” I gulped. Maybe I’ve been crazy all this time. 

“I don’t know, never mind.” I replied quickly, and embarrassed. 

I had finally made some friends, and here I went, messing it up. 

We made our way over, and we each sat down as Matt, Ryan, and Eric each put down the liquor they were holding. I couldn’t help but shake the anxiety I had; the group of men never followed us, but they just watched us walk past them. I was the only one who knew they were there, it seemed. Or maybe they were all in my head. 

We were your typical teenagers, hiding from adults, and drinking when we shouldn’t have been. After about twenty minutes of drinking, we all had a good buzz going on, and some of us were even drunk already. I was slightly buzzed, because I was terrified and anxious. 

Matt jumped in the water. 

“You idiot!” Jenni yelled as she laughed. 

“The water feels great, guys!” he said, swimming around and laughing. Nick decided he was jumping in next. He and Matt were splashing each other and shoving each other underwater. Ryan decided to jump in next to them, but when he came up he wasn’t laughing. 

“Did I kick one of you guys?” he asked. Matt and Nick shook their heads. Ryan dove back under and came up with a body. I screamed and threw my beer. Maria and Jenni were mortified, Eric and Wendy came running towards us from whatever they were up to. 

“That’s one of the guys I saw by the entrance!” I yelled in a panic, trying not to cry. I definitely saw him. But he was alive when I saw him. Matt dove under and came right back up. 

“There’s more.” he said. He dove under and pulled another waterlogged body up, Nick helped him. I didn’t scream, but I covered my mouth this time. My heart was pounding so loud that when Maria put her hand on my arm, I screamed again. 

“Did another one look like that one?” Maria asked. It sounded like she was going to cry. 

“Yes.” I squeaked. The guys that were in the water had already let the bodies go, and they were coming out. 

“Both guys looked just like that?” Nick asked.

“There were five of them when I saw them.” I whispered. “I want to leave. I want to go home.” I said. 

“No, we’re all leaving.” Nick replied. “Now.” 

No one argued. Instead everyone grabbed their personal belongings and we went to leave. I saw the five men again and lowered my head. They were watching us. 

“Are they here again?” Maria asked as she squeezed my hand.

“No.” I lied. My heart was beating so fast, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

“I just want to go home.” Wendy said. 

We did. And none of us ever spoke of that night again. 

Actually, most of them rarely spoke to me after that. Like it was my fault.

Eventually I wound up getting used to the fact that I had this sixth sense sort of thing that I just couldn’t explain; nor did it have a rhyme or reason. It just happened. Also working in New York City helped, because there were so many thousands of people, they kind of drowned them out – if they happened to be around. 

I was at work on a Tuesday when I got the call. It was pouring out, just a really nasty type of day. 

“Lydia-” my mom sobbed. I knew immediately what had happened. Mom could barely get the words out. 

Dad had a heart attack. They were eating breakfast. 

I left work and rushed to my parents’ house in the rain. I nearly fell down the subway steps, but I managed. The train doors were just about to close, but I squeezed through. Everyone was looking at me. I was dripping wet – there was actually a puddle beneath me. Some creepy looking man was seated at the end of the train smirking at me. He really gave me the creeps. 

“Pervert.” I thought. He never moved or stopped smirking.

The train finally reached my stop, and I was able to hail a cab almost immediately when I made my way to the street. Fortunately there wasn’t that much traffic, and I made it to my parents’ home in a decent amount of time. 

When I got there, mom was in the kitchen, dazed. Vera, their – her – next door neighbor was here, making tea. 

“Oh, Lydia, I’m so sorry. Would you like some tea? I’m making some for your mother …”

“No, I’m good.” I looked at my mother again, whose eyes were glazed over. “Mom? Are you going to be OK?” 

Mom and I kind of had a strange relationship. We were never really close, but I could see how hurt she was. 

“He died right in front of me.” she finally said. “I couldn’t do anything.” her voice cracked. “I couldn’t do anything.” she whispered, and she started to cry. Vera set down a cup of tea in front of mom.

“Alright, um, did you guys have anything set up in this event?” she nodded. “Ok. Do you know where the paperwork is? I can start making all the appropriate calls, and I’ll handle everything that you don’t need to do. Will that make it easier for you?” I asked. She nodded. 

We started getting some of the necessary paperwork in order. A friend of mine is also a notary, she came over and notarized some stuff so I could handle it for my mom. Mom gave me the key to dad’s safety deposit box, and I left to the bank. 

Fortunately my dad was a very popular man; everyone loved him. He was always so kind to everyone, and he was really an amazing dad. He was also a father figure for less fortunate kids when I got older; he got involved in community projects, and played basketball with the kids at the YMCA on weekends. 

When I got to the bank, I was met with condolences, and they went above and beyond to get me into his safety deposit box. When I was left alone, I opened it, and took a deep breath before I dove into this heavy trove of memories and surprises. 

I just never knew how surprised I’d be. 

There were stacks upon stacks of cash. There was a handgun in here that looked like it had seen better days. There were photographs. 

Photographs of me as a baby. Photographs of me throughout the years. There were quite a few photographs of us together. There were dates written on the back. There were actually stacks of photographs, some really well worn, like someone went through them a lot. And often.

This was so much to digest. I started sobbing.

My dad was gone.

I was now realizing just how much this man loved me. Why couldn’t he have ever told me? Now I was all alone. I cried for a good few minutes until I felt empty. 

I pulled the cash out. There was thousands upon thousands here. The gun wasn’t loaded, nor was there any ammunition in the box. I pulled out the folder on the top stack. These were my dad’s final wishes. There was also a note on it in my dad’s handwriting – his lawyer’s information stating that everything was already taken care of and to notify the office upon his death and whatever needed to be handled would be handled by them. Everything contained within was just copies for our references.

I didn’t have to take care of anything, which was a relief. I started to gather dad’s things, I’d go through them at a later date. I started to organize the box a bit and I found a tattered looking leather bound notebook. It was slightly smaller than your average notebook, but I was curious. Dad wasn’t really a writer. 

Inside were names. And dates. 

And dollar amounts. 

There was all kinds of information written down about people I had never heard of before. Birth dates, ages, addresses, phone numbers … dates of death, almost obsessive information. I kept going through the notebook, none of this made any sense. There was another notebook, this one had dates going back further. 

I knew my dad was a detective, but why did he have these tucked away? These also weren’t any of his case notebooks, and none of these names were even remotely familiar from any of the famous cases he worked, or even the lesser famous cases. Absolutely nothing was familiar, aside from locations I was familiar with. All were in New York City, all were areas he covered while he was a detective, most likely. 

A folded piece of paper fell out of this book while I was skimming through it. I picked it up and started reading it. 

It was a note, addressed to me, written in dad’s handwriting. 

“Lydia,

I’ve always loved you. From the bottom of my heart. The day you were born was the happiest day of my life. Not one of the happiest days, the happiest day. You were the greatest gift life gave me. That day set the precedent for the life I wanted you to have. 

All the money in here is yours. It’s almost two million in cash, you’re also the beneficiary of a life insurance policy in my name, and your mother’s when she passes. 

I know you’re going to have a lot of questions, and I’m sorry I was never honest with you while I was alive. I kept this secret from just about everyone – even your mom. 

I wasn’t always the great guy everyone thought I was. I did some stuff I’m not proud of, but I promise you’re set for life, and you’ll be protected, I made sure of that. You’re always going to be taken care of, babygirl.

Love Always,

Dad”

I teared up again, but didn’t cry. I was too exhausted to cry more. I was going to go through this later. 

One of the bankers helped me put everything back, and we set an appointment for me to come back after the funeral so I could get all his paperwork out and go through everything in a proper environment with, hopefully, a clearer head. 

The days leading up to the viewing were a blur; I was actually really thankful that dad had taken care of the bulk of the work. I was a roller coaster of emotions; my emotions were hitting me in waves. One moment I’d be fine, then the next I’d be crying my eyes out. Other times I’d just feel really depressed, then other moments I was happy it was so sudden he didn’t have a chance to suffer. I hated how inconsistent I was, and how I had no control over it.

I was also so happy to see how many lives my dad touched. There was such an outpouring amount of love and support coming from everyone whose lives he helped in some way; people saying how he turned their lives around, others said he inspired them to do good in their communities. It was honestly really heartwarming, and surprising, because I never really knew just how deeply my dad had an effect on people. It made me feel so good to be a part of a man who managed to put so much good out into the world. 

The viewing was insane. So many people showed up that the funeral home actually extended their hours so everyone who could show up could pay their respects. I saw so many faces I had never seen before, and would most likely never see again. I knew my dad’s job put him in a position to know a lot of people, but never in my wildest dreams did I expect this. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss. Your father was a great man.” a handsome young man stood before me, he held out his hand and I went to shake it, but instead he took my hand and kissed it. I was completely taken aback. “My sincerest condolences for your loss.” he said. 

“I – thank you. And you are?”

“Ethan D’Amelio. Our fathers were good friends. Unfortunately mine is laid up at home with his own health problems and he couldn’t make it, but he sends his condolences.” Ethan pointed at one of the more grand display of funeral flowers by dad’s casket; I had wondered who sent the one that called dad their friend and brother, and how his passing was a black spot in his end days. 

“Your father is Alessandro?” He nodded. “He sent a really kind message. Please send him my deepest thanks.”

“I will. I’m honestly surprised your father never introduced us.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“I would have liked to have known you under better circumstances. Would it be alright if we got together after things settle down and you’re feeling better?” he asked. 

Did this man just hit on me? At my father’s wake? 

But why did it feel so right? 

“I think I would like that.” I replied. There was something about him; he definitely was charming, and I didn’t feel as sad as I had been feeling all day. He did actually make me feel better just talking to me. I gave him my number, and he shot me a text with his name. I told him I’d get back to him whenever the sea of people let me. He offered his condolences again, and gently hugged me. 

We buried dad on a bleak Thursday; it didn’t rain, but it was just dark and overcast. It fit my mood. 

Ethan had come by. He offered his condolences again, and told me if there was anything I needed – anything – to let him know. He had also come with an invitation to meet his father. I promised I would. 

That following day, I picked up dad’s stuff from the bank and closed out his safety deposit box. When I got home, I put the duffel bag on my kitchen table. I didn’t dare tell mom about the cash or the gun, I didn’t know what she knew. I also didn’t have any answers yet, and I knew she was going to ask me a thousand questions, then get mad at me for not having any answers, and I really wasn’t in the mood to fight with her. 

Ethan had texted me. He invited me to dinner tomorrow night. I felt like it was a bit soon, but I obliged. I didn’t really want to be around my own family this weekend, I had enough of them. And Ethan was honestly charming enough, and being around him did feel really nice. 

I decided to break out a bottle of bourbon and started going through dad’s stuff. Dad got me into it, so it was fitting to drink bourbon in his memory. 

I started with the notebooks again, trying to make sense of them. Was he writing a book and these were character sheets? Nah, dad definitely wasn’t a writer. Were these criminals that he just kept tabs on because … ? 

None of it made sense. He had, in all, twelve notebooks like this. I noticed one of the earliest dates coincided with our move to the city. 

Then I noticed five men’s names, all had the same date. The location was the reservoir. I was a little buzzed, but pulled my Galaxy phone out and started Googling names. I started with the five. 

All these men had petty criminal records, drug dealing, grand theft auto, carjacking, theft – but their rap sheets stopped the same year that was in the notebook. Their mug shots looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t remember for sure if they looked like the men I saw at the reservoir. That was some time ago, and I had eventually blocked it out until I saw ‘reservoir’ written in dad’s handwriting.

There were some older folders in here, I decided to take a break from the notebooks, and figured there might be more clues in the folders. At least I hoped. 

This folder was full of clippings of articles about my dad. I smiled as I touched his smiling face in his pictures. I had forgotten about the time he had delivered a baby that was in a vehicle hit by a drunk driver on St Patrick’s Day; both mom and baby were safe and healthy; she gave her baby boy dad’s first name as his middle name. There were other stories about dad being involved in fundraisers for school, raising drug awareness, urging kids to go to college or trade schools and make something of themselves. It was nice seeing this and remembering some of these events, but this wasn’t what I was looking for. I shut the folder and put it aside. 

I heard some thunder outside. It had been pouring since dad died, it was like the world was mourning him with me. I took another drink, and pulled out another folder. This one had clippings and some of the names I recognized as being in dad’s notebooks. So he did bring his work home with him, but I wondered what he was hoping to accomplish with this. Or maybe it was a weird way he kept tabs on people he arrested. But it still wasn’t making sense. It was like my dad was a criminal himself. 

I put this folder down and found another one full of handwritten notes. I started reading them and they were orders. 

There was all sorts of information and a lot of it coincided with what I saw in the books. The stationary indicated it was from the desk of one Alessandro D’Amelio. 

It finally dawned on me. My father was a hitman for the mob.

I stood up and stumbled my way to my sink. I was drunker than I thought, but this realization was sobering me up, and I threw up all over my sink. Some of it splashed on the wall and counter, but I didn’t care. I threw up everything that was inside of me and I sunk to my floor, sobbing. 

I couldn’t be crazy. These had to be the ghosts of people my father killed. I cried harder in this moment than I cried the entire time my father was alive. I managed to get myself up, and I wiped the vomit off my face. I decided to go back to dad’s old neighborhoods. I needed to know that this was true, not some buzzed delusion. I got up and grabbed my keys. It was pouring, but I didn’t care. Thunder rolled in the background as I got into my car and turned it on. I slowly drove to the reservoir, the day that really started everything. The five men were there, but all of them were smiling. One even waved and laughed at me. I screamed in my car. I called Ethan.

“Lydia – is every-“

“Cut the crap,” I screamed, “your family is a crime family, aren’t you?” 

“What have you heard?” he asked, without missing a beat. 

“I found all this paperwork – with your father’s name, dollar amounts, people’s names, locations-” he laughed at me.

“Your father was a dirty cop. I’m surprised he kept all that stuff, unless he was planning on blackmailing my father. But now that you know, are you going to tell anyone? You know you’ll ruin your own life and what’s left of your mother’s.” he said. I didn’t know how to respond. 

“I want to come over. I’m not going to blackmail anyone, I just … I need answers.” I lightly sobbed. Ethan sighed. 

“I’ll have something drawn up, and we’ll talk. But if you talk, you deal with me.”

“I’ll sign whatever you want, and I won’t talk. I just … need to understand this. I’ve been having a difficult time processing this, and my dad isn’t here to answer anthing.” I replied. Ethan’s tone changed slightly. 

“I’ll call you back in a few minutes.” he hung up. I reversed, the five men were still watching me, smiling. I flipped them off and drove away. 

My dad had killed so many people for the mob. He set me up for life with dirty money. So did this mean that now I had mob protection? I didn’t want any of that. I didn’t ask for any of this. I started getting angrier and angrier again. The GPS barked out the directions to Ethan’s house. 

I was almost there, and I was in an extremely affluent area; gorgeous mansions worth millions of dollars, and when the lightning lit up the sky, I could just just how massive these homes were. 

I was distracted and I slid. 

I don’t know how long I slid for, but the car eventually flipped, and I slammed my head. 

I remembered hearing my name being called out. It sounded like Ethan. I tried to signal him by moving a finger, but I couldn’t. I tried to move my lips, but they refused to move. 

“Lydia!” I heard him scream, “HELP’S COMING!” he broke the window and managed to pry open the passenger side door. When he grabbed my arm and pulled me out, I felt something unstick itself from me. I wasn’t sure if the wetness I felt was from the rain or if I was bleeding. But it hurt. I’m pretty sure something stabbed me, because now I knew I was in pain.

Ethan pulled me out as it rained on my face. I heard him swear and he took off his shirt and pressed it against my side. I was bleeding. 

“You’re finally dying,” a voice said. I couldn’t make out who it belonged to, but it wasn’t Ethan. Then I realized I heard a slew of voices. There was so much talking going on at once, it was a droning buzzing noise, and it was putting me to sleep, kind of like white noise. 

“What do you mean?”I managed to hiss out. I really struggled to even say that.

“What?!” Ethan screamed in the rain. Lightning lit up the sky, and thunder boomed soon after. 

One of the familiar faces from my past had squat down next to me.

“It’s OK to let go.” she said gently. 

“Just be honest with her.” some man laughed, “We all know you want her to die already. We all do.”

“Honest?” I breathed. 

“What?” Ethan asked again.

“You’re the reason we’re still here. You’re the thread that’s tying us here. Your father killed people for money for you. I never believed in this shit, but here I am.” replied some man with a gruff, angry voice. “Who would have thought any of this hokey ghost haunting bullshit was true? And I’ve been stuck here for ten fucking years because of that rat bastard asshole!” he shouted. “Ten years, I’ve been stuck in one place-“

“The weaker you get, the more freedoms we get. When you die, we’re free and the curse of your dad or whatever this crap is is broken.” another voice said. 

I managed to shed a tear before I closed my eyes. All the feelings I felt all my life was punishment for my father’s crimes. I was being haunted for what he did. He was worse than the people he put away.

I was tired of it already. It was time to stop, and let everything go.

“Fuck you.” I finally hissed at Ethan.

The weight of the world was finally lifted from my shoulders.