My son, my destiny. I have an important story to tell you. It is about your birth.
I went to the bazaar. I walked with the crowd, looking at rugs and blankets, scarves and dresses. The colors stung the eye. I had a feeling someone was behind me, trying to get to me. Well, I was right.
We met in New York City in a hip new lounge. I was there accidentally, using the bathroom before entering the subway to trek to Neptune Ave to visit my stepfather, Saul. Although I hated my stepfather, seeing him was necessary—he was just diagnosed with Hodgkin’s. Poor fuck-up. But I was not worried. He could die tomorrow and my world would not have shifted. I was going to see him simply to retrieve some information—a story about his mother, Nina, a mysterious Egyptian woman. She began telling me the story one afternoon at a family gathering and never finished. I needed to hear the end.
I had to pee and the Hookah Lounge at 14th was on the corner. I entered with an urge, aware of my bladder. Who knew it spoke to them al…