The Club

A cocktail lounge

As I think back in time about my Father’s murder in 1983. I can remember that strong feeling of something being wrong or oddly off. I remember the feeling of really missing my dad. I go up to my mom a few times and ask about dad. Her replies were always brief and nonchalant. He’s probably away doing something; you know your father. “Ay Deja Me Quieta, lla” Just let me be my mom would say. I remember how worked up I was. I go about pacing the house. It is very difficult to sit still. I have this overwhelming sense to go to my dad’s club. I got this uncontrollable urge almost a strong need to see my dad. Why is he not around?  

I traveled from Astoria Queens to East New York Brooklyn on a quest to find my dad. He hasn’t called or came home and now two days have gone past. I make my first stop at his place of Business. A little social bar exclusive to friends and family. His Chevy van is parked across the street from his establishment and mom has the car so if he isn’t here, he is off on his motorcycle somewhere or worst. I knock on the door impatiently. I hurry to the storefront windows which are covered from the inside by thick dark drapes. I reach into my pocket for my change and grab a coin. I then began to tap sporadically on the glass. After a few seconds of tapping I take a few steps back and begin to whistle.

As I look up to the second floor at the windows of the office and extra rooms, I whistle with every air of breath I have, repeatedly, to no avail. I then call the Bar from the corner payphone. Not an answer from either form. I am overly concerned now and decide to visit my aunt and cousin. My dad spends a lot of time at his half-sister’s house. There he and my cousin share most of his time, while visiting my dad and cousin would do a little partying by snorting of that Cocaine. My dad’s closest family members and a few friends were all on my plans to visit these next few days if I had still not found my dad.

A day has passed, now two, and three.

My father was nowhere, to be seen.

He’s not been home, nor to his club.

Three days have passed, I’ve had enough.

At his club, my worries begin,

Through the roof, is how I get in.

There are three floors, to this club.

I start my search, from the floors above.

What I find, no man can bear.

I had no choice, for I was there.

A girl was shot, once in the head.

While she was asleep, alone in a bed.

No one else around, on this floor.

I checked every room, just to be sure.

To the first floor, I must hurry and get.

It’s the only floor, I have yet to check.

What I had seen, caused me to lose my mind.

My Father was lying there, dead, all that time.

In this place, he called his club,

he was left, lying, in a pool of blood.

I can say here and now 30 plus years later, I still am not fully sure as to whom really did this and why this happened. Other than it’s always drug related, with my Parents.