Page 41 of The Producer: Aaron

“When I was twelve, I was rummaging in the attic looking for Christmas decorations, and I found a box with the checks that my mother cashed in my name. Your name was on those checks, one every month from after my father’s funeral. I searched online for who you were and found out that you were a famous Hollywood producer. When I asked my mother for explanations, she scolded me because I poked my nose into something I shouldn’t have and sent me to my room.”

I take a deep breath when I see him sitting on the couch, defeated by my words. “For years, I tried to uncover anything useful, but she always closed the discussion. For a while, I thought you were my real father or somehow related to me even if the age difference was way too slim to make sense, until one day, I bought one of those online paternity test kits and used mypaternal grandfather’s DNA to confirm that the grave my mother cried over was really my father’s. Discovering, however, that I have no blood connection with you has confused me because I cannot understand why one of the most powerful men in this city has been contributing for sixteen years to a million-dollar investment fund in my name.” I sit next to him, keeping enough distance to allow me to reason without being intoxicated by his scent.

He shakes his head and looks down at his feet, fingers crossed in front of him in a grip so tight I fear he will break them. He seems defeated, as if all that anger that kept him standing has abandoned him.

“Your mother didn’t tell you anything?” The hesitation in his voice makes me angry.

“No, Aaron. You can’t keep this secret like her. You have influenced my entire existence. I deserve an explanation,” I say, and the suffering painted on his face takes my breath away.

He inhales deeply, and the more seconds pass, the more I am unsure if I want to know anything about this story. I don’t know if I can endure years of secrets that, given his face, are not pleasant.

“Your father died in my arms.”

His whisper comes to me like a stab in the heart. The ice that expands in my chest is so cold that it freezes my throat and mouth, making it impossible to pronounce the thousands of questions I have in my head.

“I had just started to work for my father and he tasked me to find a company to repair the roof of one of the studios. I found someone that used a third-party company where your father worked. Five days in, I was checking on them during my lunch break and I saw your father slip from the roof and get stuck halfway in the scaffolding.” He pauses, perhaps to remember those moments.

Tears begin to rise in my eyes. I don’t know if I want to know about my father’s last breath.

“When I reached him I tried to alleviate the pressure on his neck, supporting his body weight until the firefighters came, but when they managed to take him down it was too late. Fifteen days later, your mother showed up at our door, shouting and crying because the insurance found a loophole in the papers and they weren’t going to pay. I was already wrecked from what happened, seeing her like that was a stab in my chest,” he continues, and my heart sinks into my stomach.

“Did you know about the insurance?” The question leaves my lips before I can stop it.

Aaron looks up at me, asking silently if I really think he could do something like that on purpose. His eyes are veiled with tears.

“No. It was not even our insurance, it was your father’s company who messed up. But she threatened to sue us and my father went berserk. He told me that if she sued us I was going to pay everything from my pocket. But I was just starting, I had nothing to pay for that. So I did the only thing that came to my mind: I convinced your mother to not sue us and that I would send you a check out of my pay every month to help her out with the expenses of raising a child alone. But Isabella never forgave me for that.”

The air comes out of my lungs in a whoosh, and I struggle to breathe again. I always thought that my mother was hiding some sordid affair involving Aaron’s family, I never thought for an instant this could be the truth about that day. She always told me my father died in an accident during one of his many out of state work trips, but I never really asked what happened because the topic upset her so much, she still has difficulty holding back her tears. I always thought it was a car accident.

“I felt so guilty for not being able to save him, I started to build layer upon layer of armor and not getting involved with peopleworking for me. But I lived my all life thinking about Melanie Chapman, the little girl I never met but always remained on my conscience.”

He never looks up at me, even when he says my real name. Tears run down my face, partly because it makes me melancholy to hear about my father, partly because of the pain that permeates Aaron’s voice. I remember that when I thought he was my father or even my brother, I felt anger toward him because he had abandoned my mother and me. I felt orphaned a second time. I never thought that Aaron could be the one hurting for my father’s death. The truth I have been looking for for so many years is a truth I now wish I had never heard. This is why my mother never wanted to talk to me about him because she would open the wound of that day that changed our lives forever. Not just our family, but Aaron’s too.

I reach out my hand and grab his, squeezing it tightly, and when he looks up at me, the discomfort I read inside him is deep, sincere, bleeding.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what you went through. I’m sorry for how I entered your life…but I’m not sorry my father wasn’t alone when he died,” I whisper slowly.

Aaron extends a hand and wipes away the tears that wet my face with his fingers. “Don’t be sorry for me. You are the one who paid the higher price growing up without a father.”

“It was not your fault. Any of it. You shouldn’t be feeling guilty for an accident you had no control or responsibility over.” The words hurt me as I pronounce them and my heart is breaking for him.

“No. I should have dug deeper with the insurance company or at least forced my father to pay what was yours since the beginning.” He smiles at me sadly. “What hurt me the most was the betrayal your mother felt toward me when I told her she should have dropped the idea of the suit. I promised her I’d helpher find a way and I betrayed her.”

His admission tears my chest even more. I betrayed his trust, though not entirely voluntarily. I didn’t know what was behind our story, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

“Why did you come here, Dakota… or should I call you Melanie?” His voice is tired.

I shake my head and look him straight in the eye. I want him to understand how sincere I am right now.

“My name is Dakota. Melanie Dakota Chapman. I took my mother’s last name when I decided to be an actress. Dakota Anderson is more endearing than Melanie Chapman, at least that’s what my agent said.”

“Did you decide to do it for me? Did you decide to be an actress to sneak into my life?”

I shake my head again, and the terror that he can’t understand my actions creeps into my chest. I don’t want any doubt that my intentions toward him were ever in bad faith.

“I’m not here because I want something from you or to ruin you, Aaron. I really just want to know you,” I tell him with more conviction. “When I was fifteen, I thought one way to do that might be to get to Hollywood. Understanding what surrounds you is a bit like getting to know you, so I studied to become an actress. But the more I went down that path, the more I realized I like this job. I didn’t plan to be hired for one of your productions or to come and live with you, but when it happened, I realized it was my chance to get to know the man who somehow influenced my life. I didn’t expect to feel attracted to you, but it happened, and I don’t know how to turn off these feelings.”

My confession seems to soften his features. Maybe he believes my words and I hope so with all my heart.

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