Chris’s dad was a classy guy. Whenever he met one of his son’s girlfriends, he’d extend his hand, give her a firm handshake and say, “Soy Andrés, a tus pies.” Which means, “I’m Andres, I serve at your feet.” 

Andres carried his wife’s purse when they went out, taught Chris to throw a knuckle ball by age eight, and loved a good joke at Fidel Castro’s expense. But behind it all was a dark past that Chris was too scared to ask about. 

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