His Once Innocent Son

By Esteban Guillermo Zanetti

Frank is a middle aged man who is reunited with his son, Jared, after a decade apart. Having not seen his son since he graduated high school, Frank is horrified to find out that Jared has been selling his body for money. He must decide how much it means to have his lone child back in his life and how much he could tolerate. Will his love for, and guilt of missing out on years of, his son be able to withstand the newfound profession as well as further revelations? Frank must decide if he will stand by Jared's choice or demand his son change profession and risk being left out of his only son's life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350915914

Book preview

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Copyright © 2023 by Esteban Guillermo Zanetti. All rights reserved. Printed in the USA. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

ISBN: 979-8-35091-590-7 (print)

ISBN: 979-8-35091-591-4 (eBook)

This book is dedicated to all sex workers.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 1

It was only September, but the cool evening air reminded one of the cold winter ahead after a long, warm summer. Frank, a fifty-three-year-old man, walked forward towards the three-story brick building with an old backpack thrown over his shoulder. He compared the street number on the building to the piece of paper he had carried in his jeans pocket. Frank had last seen his son over a decade past, after his now ex-wife divorced him and left with their son. Only recently had she reached out to him, urging Frank to find their son and help him before it was too late. This was the address she had given him. For the past couple days, Frank feared to imagine what had become of his only child. His ex, Lisa, had sounded desperate and he knew she would not have called him had it not been serious. Frank left his life behind, miserable though it had become, and took the first bus he could to do whatever he could for his son. The son he had not seen in years, whom he had thought about and longed to see again for far too long.

Lights could be seen on through various windows, most of which had drapes drawn closed, while through a few windows he could also see ceilings or pieces of furniture. The entrance was merely a single door with no gate or fence. It was unlocked. Inside were steps to the left, and ahead was a lit hallway that yet looked cold and lonely. At the end of the hallway was a small opening with rectangular mailboxes for each apartment. His son was supposed to be on the second floor. Frank walked upstairs and came to an even drearier hallway as one light down the bulb had gone out. The walls were wallpapered on either side, a red and navy design with chipped paper here and there. This is what had become of his son. He took a deep breath as he arrived at apartment number 205. There was dance music faintly coming from within, or at least it seemed. It could have been from a neighboring room. Frank knocked on the door and nothing happened. He knocked again, and still nothing happened. He wondered if perhaps his son was not home at that moment. Frank had not prepared to wait outside the room like a bum. Frank knocked one more time, this time harder and louder, and the music stopped. There was commotion and Frank worried something was wrong. Please open up, son! He began to knock again, but after one rap the door opened.

A young White girl slipped out, looking disheveled. Her hair was a mess and she was throwing on her coat as she quickly looked at him and then slipped by towards the stairs. Frank looked inside to a rather well-lit room. His son was standing there in nothing but grey sweatpants. He was tall and handsome, as Frank had been when he was much younger, but with a lighter shade of hair. Last time he saw his son, he was finishing high school and about to go off to college. He had been slightly less tall back then but scrawny and thin. Now he was better built—no bodybuilder, but toned and healthy. He had light colored eyes with a strong jaw like his father and had his mother’s smaller nose.

Son . . . Frank stared, amazed at his son. Jared, do you remember me?

Of course, I do. Jared looked blankly back at him. What are you doing here?

Your mother called . . . Frank tried to look inside the apartment. It seemed well furnished to his surprise. May I come in?

Jared scrunched his eyebrows as though he was more apt to start a fight. Then he shook his head and turned around. Whatever. He went to close the bedroom door as Frank walked inside and closed the main door behind him.

To the right was a humble kitchen, but it had a fancy blender on the counter. A lit candle sat on the bar top between the kitchen and the large room beyond. Past that was the living area with a leather couch and a widescreen television, as well as a gaming console on the shelf below the TV. There was a glass coffee table over a nice rug in the middle of the room between the couch and the TV shelf. To the right, beyond the kitchen was a small square hallway with three doors. Surely a bedroom, bathroom, and a narrow door that had to be a closet. There was a woodsy scent coming from the candle as he walked forward and drew closer to it.

This . . . this place looks nice actually, Frank mumbled in amazement.

I do well for myself, Jared said bluntly.

What do you do?

What are you doing here, Father? Jared asked, his tone stern and unwelcoming.

Well, your mother called me and said you were in trouble. That I had to hurry here and help you. He looked around. You are living fancier than I was.

Well, Mom has a stick up her butt. Jared swept past his father and went into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, which was stocked with milk, eggs, beer bottles, and various other items. He pulled out some premade or leftover food in a container.

Suddenly, Frank could feel his stomach lurch with hunger, as it had been a while since he had eaten and even then nothing of great substance. Uh, would you have some extra for your old man? Frank asked sheepishly.

Yea. Jared looked cautiously at him. You look like shit, honestly.

I took an overnight bus, son, Frank admitted. I got here as fast as I could. The way your mom spoke, I almost expected to find you starving on the floor, freezing without electricity or heat.

And what would you have done for me?

Whatever I could, son.

Jared took a deep breath. Listen, Frank, I’ll make you some food. But please, especially before you sit anywhere, take a shower. He came around from the kitchen. I have an extra towel and you can borrow some clothes.

Thank you, son.

Here—Jared pointed to the door on his right—is the bathroom. He opened the middle door to unveil a well-stocked closet. Jared pulled a plush towel from the top shelf and turned to hand it to Frank. Use this, and while you are in there, I will grab some clothes. Feel free to use my shampoo and bodywash.

Thank you. Frank was proud of his son. He took his bag, an old bookbag that he had stored away and not used in years, and the towel into the bathroom. It was small, as would be for such an apartment, but it was neat and clean. There was another plush towel hanging from the towel rack opposite the toilet. A smaller hand towel was hanging over the toilet. Frank pushed his son’s towel over and it was relatively damp from recent use.

He pulled his toothbrush and toothpaste out of his bag and brushed his teeth as the shower water warmed. There was a vanity mirror, too, that opened and was full of the usual—hair gel, Q-tips, Band-Aids, ointments, and even fancy skin creams. Under the sink was mouthwash, a basket of different types of razors (for face and body), and a couple of bottles of cleaners. His son’s toothbrush sat in the corner of the sink counter. Frank used some of his son’s minty mouthwash and then took off his clothes for the shower. He was pale, his stomach was a bit rounder and wider than it had been, his chest was softer, and his arms were still big, but he was not as cut as he had been at his son’s age. His hair, thanks to good genes, was still full and dark. Frank hopped in the shower as the mirror began to fog. When he climbed out, after a nice long shower, there were clothes left on the edge of the sink counter. There were a pair of sweatpants, boxer briefs, socks, and an old worn T-shirt that read NYC and showed the skyline on it.

That was much needed; thank you again, son, Frank expressed as he left the bathroom. Jared had set up two plates of food on the medium bar that separated the living room and the kitchen. Jared was already eating, and he simply nodded at Frank’s comment. Frank walked to sit on the other, unoccupied stool, when he noticed a wad of bills on the coffee table that he had not seen earlier from the other side. On top was a twenty-dollar bill. What is that?

Jared looked, and in a rush, grabbed the wad and stashed it into his pocket. Nothing, he said and went back to eating.

Son, how are you doing all this?

I have my little business, Jared said, mysteriously.

Horror fell over Frank. Are you selling drugs?

No! Jared said instantly and strongly.

Oh, ok. Good. Frank patted his son on the shoulder and chose to believe him. Jared appeared unmoved by his father’s touch. Well, that young woman . . . was she your girlfriend? He took a bite of the chicken and vegetables, which had been cooked quite well.

Certainly not! Jared scoffed.

Oh . . . oh. He understood it was a one-time thing. Careful leaving money out then with random women. Jared gave a weak, half nod. He took another bite, and Jared was already finishing. Please, son, tell me something about your life! He was trying to obtain some information.

Jared dropped his fork on the empty plate with a clang. You want to know, do you? Frank nodded and Jared continued. When I was eighteen, getting ready for college, thinking my first year of college would be the biggest life change I’d have to deal with . . . Mom told me you were sleeping around and you two were getting a divorce. She packed us up and we moved here. He gestured with his arms. All my high school friends were going to college together. I was supposed to be with them, but then I not only had to find a new college in two months, but I lost my father! His face was full of anger and sadness, which broke Frank’s heart.

I am so sorry, Jared, Frank said solemnly. I was a fool. I was out there for months at a time, making good money to give you a good life. But I was also alone and stupid. Then we got a divorce and she won custody and took you away. I was deemed irresponsible by a stupid judge who knew nothing. I never wanted you out of my life, but your mother wanted me out of yours.

How convenient! Jared shouted. You never came! He wiped his eyes, which were glistening in the light.

Your mother would not tell me where she took you, Frank retorted. I called and I begged for years until I lost all hope. I was sending alimony checks to her parents, and even they wouldn’t tell me anything. I got lost in work, gambling, strip bars, and alcohol. But I love you. He held out his arms for a hug.

Jared stared at him, not moving a muscle.

Please, son! Frank could feel a tear cascading down his cheek.

I’m not ready yet. Jared stood up and took his plate to the kitchen sink. Frank sat with his head in his hands. Jared came back around. You can finish your meal, but then please see yourself out. He walked past, but Frank cried a faint Jared.

What? Jared’s cold voice carried from behind him.

I have no place to go.

Jared walked back into view. Are you serious? his words seeped with disgust.

Frank bashfully looked into the angered face of his son, who stood over him. Please, let me stay the night.

Jared smirked and chuckled. You were coming to ‘save’ me, but what the fuck can you actually do for me?

I . . . I have a couple thousand saved, Frank answered. I know it’s not much, but I would have used it all for you; I would have done whatever was in my power. Even taken you to a motel.

Last time I was in a motel was on the trip from home when Mom moved us. He sighed as he shook his head. You can sleep on the couch—for one night! Jared held up a single index finger.

Thank you.

And don’t leave your plate when you’re done. Not everyone in this building is as clean, and it won’t take much to get ants. Jared went into his bedroom and slammed the door shut.

Frank felt sheepish and guilt-ridden but finished his food. He not only took his plate to the sink but also washed it, along with his son’s plate, which was left, and set them to dry, to show his appreciation. He made sure the door was deadbolted before he went to the couch. There was a warm, fuzzy brown blanket with the image of a lion on it that he wrapped around himself. Frank had imagined many scenarios of the day he saw his son again, and while it could have been worse, it was not the most ideal. Replaying the anger of his son in his mind, Frank cried himself to sleep.

When Frank woke up, the morning light was shining through the windows at his feet. He lifted his head and saw his son in the kitchen cooking while playing music from his phone. Frank stumbled to his feet and to the stool to see his son was making eggs. It seemed Jared, who once again was wearing only sweatpants, had not noticed him and looked content.

Morning, kiddo, Frank said cheerfully, hopeful the previous night was forgotten.

Jared looked at him with a straight, stoic face and then turned around. He grabbed a bowl and turned back to set it before Frank. It’s oatmeal. It’s good for you, Jared said in a flat tone. Then Jared turned back to the eggs.

Thank you, son. Frank grabbed a spoon. So, New York City, when did you go there? I’ve never been.

John took us. Jared still spoke flatly.

Who is John?

Mom’s new husband. He’s an investment banker or the sort.

Oh. Frank felt defeated. Was he good to you?

He wasn’t you. Jared looked at his father through the side of his eye for a moment. He put eggs on two plates, placed one before Frank and took his own plate and bowl around and sat beside him. I mean, he was obsessed with his job and making money, so . . . Then Jared began to eat.

I’ve done many bad things, Jared, but I have and will always care about you, Frank said, to which his son only kept eating. Frank spun his spoon around in the bowl. I plan to start looking for a job. You see, I got laid off recently. Jared stared ahead as he chewed. Frank spooned some oatmeal. I promise I will make up for the last twelve years! He ate the food.

They ate in silence while Jared’s music still played on his phone. When Jared was finished, he went back to the sink. Thank you for doing the dishes last night, Frank, he said softly.

Of course.

Jared went to his room, and then came out dressed up and shut the door. Frank was finished and once again doing the dishes for both of them. Jared walked up to him and held out his hand. But he was not trying to shake his father’s hand; there was something in it. It was a small brass key. "I