Page 145 of Seeing Grayscale

“You should have meant it. You should have loved me anyway. And I should’ve never spent so long wanting it.” I take a deep breath, recalling a particular phrase Gray once said to me. "Getfucked,Edward. You're no father ofmine."

I push my hair back, glancing at my teary-eyed mother.

“I want a divorce,” she tells him. "A fucking divorce!"

"You can't afford a divorce." A pause. "And you'll come crawling right back home as soon as word of this gets out," he tells me.

The man has the audacity to laugh, and walk away from us. He thinks he’s won. I’m shaking by the time he’s out of my sight—already making plans to show him he's wrong. When I finally face my mom, she's wearing an expression I can't read.

“I suppose you hate me too? More?”

She shakes her head and quickly takes my hand. “I love you.”

“How? How can you love me when you’ve stayed with that?” I nod in the direction my dad left to.

“I stayed because of you, Hunter. To protect you. To make sure that if this day came, you’d have someone. He is laughing now, but he has nothing to hold over me. I’m leaving him. I’ve been planning on it for a while."

“I don’t believe you,” I tell her, trying to pull my hand away, but she doesn’t let go.

“You don’t have to. I know I have to earn your trust again, honey. But listen to me. I love you. I’ve loved you since you took your first breath, and it’sneverstopped.”

“So you knew, then? About me?”

She nods. “Since you went to college.”

I hang my head, tears building faster than I can stop them. “Did he know too?”

“I’m not sure. But it doesn’t matter, sweetie. I’m here, alright?”

“I have to…go.”

She kisses my hand, and it hurts. It hurts so much because she used to kiss my hand whenever I was sick or sad. Even after all this time, after years of watching her drink herself stupid and become this shell of a person, my mom is in there. She’s here now.

“Mom,” I croak.

“Let’s go. Let’s just get out of here,” she insists before kissing my hand again.

For the first time in almost half my life, I make a little room inside my bruised heart for her. We leave the house together, hand in hand, and walk to my car.

FIFTY-SIX

“You’reHudson’sson?”

I’m still not sure about this, but whenAbel—Doctor Perry’s first name—told me that he had a couple of his son’s spare suits I could wear to my interview, I decided to trust the man. After all, he knew my dad. It seemed kind of like divine intervention this morning because as soon as I powered on my cell phone to reply to my email, I had already received one from the warehouse asking to postpone until tomorrow. Something about a family emergency the manager had to go take care of.

Abel fed me lunch, offering me his private office space to wait in while he finished his shift. And now, I’m standing in his living room with his wife, Marie, smiling at me like she’s known me my whole life.

“Yeah,” I mumble, rubbing my arms.

She’s in her early 50s, only a handful of years older than my mom would be if she were alive. The silver streaks in her brown bob look cool. Light brown eyes crinkle, accentuating the crow’s feet webbing on either side as she places a delicate hand on my shoulder.

“You look just like him.”

I shift on my feet, more nervous than anything else. “Is your son not here?” I ask.

“Oh, Jack doesn’t live with us anymore. He moved out…four years ago now? But I kept most of his things in his room. You’re more than welcome to stay the night.” This woman is nice. Abel—Doctor Perry—is nice, too.

But so was Hunter.

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