Malakai walked to his father’s bedroom and looked inside. It was spotless, the bed crisply made, and no personal belongings were in sight except for a picture of Malakai in his football uniform from the previous year. Malakai missed his father, and his visits were always too short. Granted, the sergeant wasn’t very warm, and Malakai couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually hugged him. It must have been before his mother disappeared. His mother. While now he knew she was alive, all the other questions he had asked over the past seven years remained unanswered. “She’s gone, Malakai. That’s all there is to know,” the sergeant had said countless times. Malakai remembered how quickly they had moved to the United States, then to his grandmother’s once his mother disappeared. He also remembered how warm his Gran had been and how often she told his father that a ten-year-old boy needed to have fun and spontaneity, and love and support. But the sergeant had never been able to fill the void left by his mother.
