“A father to three boys, I recently found myself in the sort of place where people inflict pain on one another — and for fun. I’d gone to the dojo, actually a room in a strip mall and spare but for swords hung menacingly on a wall, for Faustino, my oldest.
Some background: Faustino is not my son. But he is my son. He was born on Valentine’s Day 2000, about two years before I met my wife, who decided at some point that his father was not her valentine. I was 22 when I met Xelina, my valentine, and I’ve been a father to her son ever since. Faustino’s biological father now lives in Denver.”
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