Page 115 of The Sweetest Cruelty: Hudson
The world then suddenly rushed back in. “I think you need to come to terms with the fact that what happened wasn’t your fault. Your father was the monster. What he did is on his hands and certainly not a fourteen-year-old boy's burden. I’m so sorry you went through that. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain it must still cause you.”
I bit down hard on my lower lip as I stared into his fathomless eyes. “Bad things happen, but you don’t have to allow them to define who you are moving forward. You are in control of your destiny, and it is up to you what you want to do with it. You are not unworthy of the world, Hudson.”
A muscle in his jaw clenched. “But I am my father’s son.”
“Yes. But you arenotthe monster of his making.”
And Hudson, being that man of action, tugged me against his chest and kissed the top of my head with such tenderness.
“You need closure,” I stated, one hand on his pectoral muscle. I felt like such a fraud, feeding Hudson advice about how to deal with his past, and yet I hadn’t come to terms with my own. I hadn’t even explained about my mother, but the timing felt off. Tonight was about Hudson, not me.
“How? How do I get that when the bastard is gone?”
“You go to the prison. You collect what’s left of his things.”
“And then what? I don’t want it, not really,” he said on an exhale.
“I think you’ll know what you want to do when you get that box.”
We lay together in bed with the cat, and I felt a sense of contentment I hadn’t had in a long time. Evenbeforemy mother passed.
My eyes fluttered closed as Hudson continued to stroke my hair. His skin was so soft against my cheek. His scent wrapped around me, like a cocoon of safety.
I couldn’t be certain whether it was a dream or reality as I heard, “I don’t know what it is about you,JustMolly, but you fill the cracks in my chest.”
That phrase I kept hearing echoed in my mindtime is a healer. I knew then that they were wrong. Time didn’t heal; it allowed you to keep things hidden and out of sight,unfinishedbusiness.
I knew grief. And I, too, had kept mine hidden, but scratch beneath the surface, like Hudson had that night, and there it was. Exposed, raw and real, like a recurringphysicalpain.
“You fill the cracks in my chest.”
Hudson’s softly spoken words resonated, as without even trying, one broken boy had started to heal that hole in my own heart.
I wondered how much of our conversation Hudson would remember the following day. My head then swam into nothingness.
When I woke up the next morning, any physical proof that Hudson had been there was gone.
But the imprint he had made on my heart was deeper than ever.
EIGHTEEN
HUDSON
I slung the KNKG duffel over my shoulder and pushed my earbuds in—anything to drown out Micha’s shitty taste in music.
As I came to the bottom of the stairs, I stopped. Lowering my head, I strained to hear. My tunes had yet to kick in, and I could hear Ma talking to someone in the hallway. The voice was low and deep, and I couldn’t identify it at first.
Yanking my earbuds out, I pushed them into my pocket and dropped down another two steps. The gym bag slid from my shoulder to my chest.
“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important.”
I balled my hands into fists, telling myself to calm down. It didn’t take me long to identify the voice of Principal Dick. The thought of him in my house instantly got my back up, and I ground my teeth together hard. Sure, things had moved on with Molly to a deeper place, but that still didn’t mean I had to like her old man. As far as I was concerned, they were two different people and nothing alike. He had spent his time in my life, knocking me down when Molly had only ever tried to lift me.
In all truth, it would only be the second home visit in all the years I had known him. The first was to check why I hadn’t been to school in over two weeks. Usually, one of the lower-key school officials carried out such checks, but nope. I got the head honcho. It was the first time I received a letter from my father. What could I say? I wasn’t myself at the time. Hence the need for a time-out. My therapist had gone through the proper channels when she’d suggested I be home-schooled for two weeks, but Principal Dick just had to stick his nose in where it didn’t belong.
I hadhatedMiller’s last visit as he’d come to talk about all the exams I’d missed. The man had looked at me with such disappointment that it had pushed my buttons. That was the first time I realized that I cared what the fucker thought of me. And I’d been rebelling against that fact ever since. It didn’t make any difference what I did. Miller hadneverliked me, and so what? The feeling was mutual, irrespective of the fact I gave two shits about his opinions.
They must have been just around the corner, by the kitchen door. I felt irritated that Miller stood between me and my daily protein shake. I had intended to hit the weight room before school, but I doubted that would happen now, unless he said what he needed to say and then fucked off quickly. Knowing Miller, the guy usually liked to drag things out and always strived for the last word. That made two of us, which was why our discussions lasted so long. Even in all the years we had known each other. We had never been in an agree-to-disagree compromise situation. That’s what happens when stubborn meets stubborner.
