“My father died a week ago,” I say. Cheeks shakes his head in confusion. “Your parents…” “Not my biological father. The man who raised me, who abused me, who treated me like shit for not being his. He died and I didn’t tell you because it would take too much time. You didn’t even know who he was. But I know your father left when you were four, and I know the story of every time he’s ever let you down. I know the name of the man who hurt your mother, how your grandparents met, your worst fears, and you don’t even know my name, D’Angelo. So I’m sure not having me come around to wipe your tears
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