My dead father came to see me one last time

My father came to see me one last time. Two days ago. In a car, with another man at the wheel. Father didn’t say anything. Didn’t even wave at me. I’m not surprised. He wasn’t my father.<br><br>My real father died. He had a heart attack. I never knew about it before it happened. My father told me the night before he died. <br><br>“You know I have a weak heart, boy,” he said. “I came to see you one last time. Your mother knows you’re not my son. I know you know too.”<br><br>I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. My father the imposter had called me ‘boy’ for years. My friend Makuah said being called ‘boy’ was disrespectful, but I didn’t mind. In fact, I was indifferent. Inexplicably, I loved my father. I’d do anything for him. And I did.<br><br>“You know how you ended up here, don’t you?” he said.<br><br>I nodded. My father had told me many times. But I never believed him. I had no reason to believe him. <br><br>“I’m not your father, Leo,” he said. “I took you. There’s a place you can go, a place you can go to see people. But you can’t use your own bones. You have to use someone else’s. And if you’re gone for long enough, the person whose bones you use will be gone. They might come back. But they might not. And when you go back to your own bones, they’ll be gone. Forever. They might come back. But they might not.”<br><br>I nodded. I knew how my father had died. He’d told me himself. He used the bones of a man named Ezechiel, then the bones of a man named Oliver. He’d gone to see Leo. Leo was my name, you see. Leo. My imposter father had taken my name. He’d said he did this because he thought I’d come back. But he knew I wouldn’t. My name was Daniel. My father had told me that before. He just didn’t tell me whose bones I’d been using. My imposter father was good. He said my real father was good too. But he wasn’t. <br><br>“You know why I took you, Leo.”<br><br>“Yes,” I said. My father had a weak heart.<br><br>“How did you know?”<br><br>“I didn’t. But I know now. Did you kill my family?”<br><br>My father didn’t answer. He was already long gone. I buried him in the forest, a quarter of a mile from our cabin. I’d put him in a nice coffin. One with a wooden crate. I dug the hole deep. Very deep. I didn’t want my father to come back. I’d do anything for him. But my father wasn’t my father. And I’d already done too much for him. <br><br>My imposter father had come to see me one last time. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t wave at me. I didn’t want him to. I wanted him to rot. I’d dug a hole deep enough for a thousand bodies.<br><br>I had a thousand bones to bury.