CHAPTER EIGHT
Grayson — 15 years old (Sophomore year)
“Where are you taking me now?” I ask Diane, grumpily. My mood is sullen and irritable. Diane never comes with good news. The first time I met her, it was the day my mother died and I was separated from Naomi.
Diane is a good woman; I can’t deny that. She truly does care about the kids in foster care. I’ve seen other social workers being careless and jaded. That’s not Diane. She’s meticulous, patient and attentive.
But I’ve somehow associated her with being the bearer of bad news. “The last time you took me somewhere, I had to watch Naomi be happy with her family . I think that’s enough damage to last me a lifetime.”
Diane rolls her eyes, as she parks the car next to a coffee shop. “Are you always this…pessimistic?”
“I’m realistic, there’s a difference.”
She pauses, her hands still on the wheel. “No. I think you’re always expecting something bad to happen to you. You need to cut off that negative thinking before it becomes a pattern, Grayson.”
Scoffing, I turn my head away from her probing eyes and stare out the window. We had a snowstorm last week, but most of it has melted away. This was the first time I spent Christmas and New Year’s without Naomi. Even when we had nothing — barely any food on the table, no new clothes or toys, we still had each other. And for me, that was enough.
It’s always enough.
It was the best holiday, as long as she was with me.
Negative thinking? My life is a goddamn rollercoaster, and I’m literally hanging upside down all the time. I used to at least have one good thing in my life — Noami.
Sometimes I wonder if God has a personal problem with me. But then again, I don’t really believe in God. Because if He exists, there wouldn’t be so much pain and chaos in this world. If God is real, why are children dying of incurable diseases, why is there war and starvation? Why do evil people exist and continue to wreak havoc?
It’s not fair that bad, corrupted people get to continue living their lives, and good— innocent people suffer.
“So why are we here?” I ask again, the impatience barely hidden from my tone.
“There’s someone I want you to meet.” She opens her door and steps out of the car, her heels clacking against the asphalt ground. “C’mon now, Grayson. Just trust me, this time, it’s something good.”
“I don’t trust anyone,” I mumble under my breath, but I follow her out of the car nonetheless. It’s not like I have a choice.
Diane is damn annoying, once she makes up her mind about something. Forget the fact that I’m much taller and bigger than her, and she’ll never successfully be able to drag me out of the car. But knowing her, she will try until she pulls my arms out of their sockets.
She walks into the small, cozy coffee shop, and I’m right behind her. Once I’m inside, I see the way everyone pauses for a second to look at me. People always do that in my presence. I’ve grown another two inches in the last four months, and I’m now six foot four. Since fighting in the pit, I’ve also put on more muscle. I’m big, so people like to stare. They’re probably thinking that “he must be an athlete. Definitely basketball or football.”
But it’s merely a mundane thing.
They stare for a minute, and then go back to whatever they’re doing.
Diane grabs onto my elbow and maneuvers me to a table in the far corner of the coffee shop. We pause in front of an older African-American couple, who are sitting side by side. The man is wearing a black suit and a somber expression. The wedding bands on their fingers tell me they are married. He has his arm around the back of the woman’s chair, like it’s the most natural thing to do. But the air that surrounds him — it’s full of confidence and self-assurance.
And I instantly know . He is the type of man that never cowers.
“Diane,” he greets, his voice deep and gravelly. His gaze slides over me, and he gives me a nod. “Hello, Grayson. Have a seat.”
How does he know my name?
And why the hell am I here to meet this couple?
Diane practically drags me to sit, and I fold myself into a chair, opposite of the couple. I’m suddenly overly conscious of the hole in my white shirt and my faded sweatpants.
The woman who hasn’t stopped staring at me smiles when I’m seated. There’s something kind in her expression, almost like she’s trying to be careful not to spook me.
“Why don’t you introduce yourself to Grayson?” Diane clears her throat, crossing her arms over the table. “We can start there.”
The man nods again, before he removes his hand from the back of his wife’s chair and he leans forward. “I am Benjamin Hale, but commonly known as Judge Hale. An Associate Justice to the Supreme Court.”
My mouth falls open, and I simply stare back at him, aghast.
Why in the world am I sitting across from a judge? But wait, not just any judge. But someone from the goddamn Supreme Court. My jaw snaps close, and I clear my throat. If he notices my mind-boggling shock, Benjamin Hale doesn’t point to it. Instead, he motions toward the woman sitting next to him. “And this is my wife.”
“I’m Dr. Naveah Hale, Head of Neurosurgery at Solomon Hospital.”
Somehow, I’ve entered a twilight zone, and absolutely nothing makes sense.
“I don’t understand,” I mutter, my finger digging into the hole in my shirt. “I mean, why am I here?”
Judge Hale pushes the thick folder that he has in front of him toward me. “Go ahead,” he encourages. “You can go through it, and maybe you’ll understand why. ”
I do just that, because he gives me the “no-nonsense” vibes. I’m not going to lie, but my bones are literally shaking when I open the folder. The first thing I see is a photo of my mother .
A younger version of her, anyway.
My heart thuds in my chest, and it feels like my lungs are about to collapse within the walls of my rib cage. As I sift through the folder, there are more photos of her. All of them are younger, happier…a healthier version of my mother.
I know it’s her. The face, the smile…the thick, fluffy hair that resembles Noami’s so much. I know it’s her , but it’s a woman I barely recognize.
This is not my mother.
The woman I remember is a drunkard, an addict — someone who never laughed, someone who loathed her children.
A woman who died alone while waiting for the man she loved — a callous, forsaken, cold-hearted and loveless woman. Someone cheap.
That’s the mother I remember, not the one in the photos. The one wearing expensive clothes, with a big house and flashy cars in the background. She is an impostor.
“Keep going,” Dr. Naveah coaxes gently. “We know this is all very confusing, but it’ll make sense once you see the rest and we’ll gladly answer any questions you have.”
The next polaroid photo I find is my mother holding a baby. “This is me,” I whisper under my breath, incredulously. I recognize myself as a baby, because my mother showed me a photo before. Of me, when I was barely a year old.
I find more photos of me in the folder. As a baby, a toddler and then a little older. Each photo looks like it has been kept with utmost care, without any wrinkles and preserved.
The last one in the folder is of me, on my sixth birthday, but after that, there are no more photos. The rest of the folder is empty.
I swallow past the lump in my throat and look up at the faces of Benjamin and Nevaeh Hale. “What does all of this mean? I don’t…understand. Who are you to me? How do you have these photos? What is your relationship with my mother?”
“Hadley, your mother, is — was , my younger sister. The only sibling I had. That makes me your uncle and Naveah, your aunt,” he says, ever so calmly. As if he hasn’t just turned my whole life upside down.
The world spins and tilts on its axis, before it rights itself. Cold sweat beads on my neck, and I stare at them blankly.
“We are your family,” Naveah adds softly, a hesitant note in her voice.
No, Naomi is the only family I have. The only family that matters.
“This can’t be true. If my m-mother is your sister then h-how—” I pause when I start stammering in confusion, licking my lips nervously. “None of this makes sense. My mother never mentioned any of you and if you are who you say you are… then where have you been all this time?”
Diane clears her throat and pushes to her feet. “How about I get us coffee while you guys talk about this? Would you like anything, Mr. and Mrs. Hale?”
Mrs. Hale smiles shakily. “Just a caramel latte for me, please.”
“Nothing for me.” Her husband frowns.
“I don’t want anything either.”
Diane lets out a little anxious laugh before she walks away, leaving me alone with the couple — who are quite possibly frauds. I can’t let myself believe a word they say.
Benjamin’s relentless gaze is nerve-wracking, and my fists clench on my lap. “Hadley was a brilliant young woman,” he starts, his voice is calm, but I notice a twitch under his left eye. As if speaking about my mother causes him some kind of pain. “She was one of the top students at Berkshire Academy, and she had a bright future ahead of herself. She got accepted to Harvard, for Life Science. Hadley dreamed of becoming a neurosurgeon, just like Naveah. This was literally her passion. She was quick-witted and extremely intelligent.”
“Hadley was nineteen when she met your father — Harrison Avery,” Naveah continues. “They met in a bar, and Hadley was completely enamored by him. But Harrison…Well, he mingled with the wrong people. He was the boy from the wrong side of the tracks that we would warn Hadley about, but she was in love. And she thought she could change him. Make him a better person.”
I wait for the roar of blood in my ears to quiet, but every new piece of information I receive makes it worse. I draw in a shuddering inhale, and there’s a pause from Mrs. Hale, uncertainty in the look she gives me.
Mr. Hale sighs heavily. “When they began dating, we weren’t happy about it. But Hadley was a stubborn young woman, and once she had set her mind on something, there was nothing we could do to persuade her otherwise. Harrison’s impact on your mother’s life was almost immediate. Her grades were dropping, she was partying more and she became increasingly volatile. Drugs got involved and that’s also when…you came into the picture. When we found out she was pregnant, we knew her and Harrison were in no position to take care of a baby.”
“So, we suggested that we raise you until both Hadley and Harrison could get themselves together. Rehab, of course. They needed to start acting like mature adults. Being a parent is a grand responsibility. But that’s not what happened. Hadley was separated for a while from Harrison. She went to rehab and we took care of you, for the first three months of your life. You really brought us so much joy, Grayson.”
I swallow, my tongue feeling heavy in my mouth but finally croak out. “What happened then?”
“Hadley decided that she was done with rehab.” Mr. Hale breaks off, making a sound of frustration in the back of his throat. He looks both pained and pissed off. “She came back home and she said that if we continue keeping her and Harrison apart, she will have no choice but to leave with him. We were scared for your safety…we knew neither your mother nor your father were in the right headspace to take care of a baby. So we allowed Harrison into our home. That lasted for barely a month, before both of them took you and ran away.”
“You didn’t try to find them?”
“We did,” Mrs. Hale adds quickly, almost defensively. “We found them, and you . We gave them space, while keeping a close eye on you. To make sure you were okay. For two years, things were a bit settled. It wasn’t the best situation, and we didn’t trust Harrison, but we didn’t want to push Hadley too much. Until they disappeared again. And this time, it took us longer to find them.”
“At that point, Naveah and I were going through our own personal issues. There was a lot happening.So, when Hadley and Harrison went off the grid for a third time, we let them go.”
“Your mother would send us photos of you every Christmas for four years, with a message not to find her. To leave her be, to be happy with her family. Harrison always hated us, so we thought if we were truly out of the picture, then maybe he and Hadley could figure it out together. They are adults; we couldn’t keep treating them like children.”
“About a year ago, there was something in my gut telling me to find you again. I just wanted to make sure my sister and nephew were doing okay. So, I hired a private investigator. By the time we found you…it was too late.”
“We didn’t even know that Hadley had a second child, Naomi — your sister. Diane told us that she got adopted already. If only we had known, if only we had found both of you sooner—
“You are eight months too late,” I say briskly. But it’s not their fault. It wasn’t their responsibility to keep chasing after my mother, who refused to accept their help, or to raise me and my sister. They did more than they should have already.
Mr. Hale leans closer, holding my gaze sternly. “Listen to me, Grayson. Naveah and I regret letting Hadley leave with you. We should have fought harder, but we didn’t. It’s a regret we will bear as long as we live, but you …You are still young and have so much potential. You still have a future ahead of you,” he points out. “A future we can support. You’re not alone anymore.”
“Sir, with all due respect — I’ve been alone for a very long time, and I know how to take care of myself,” I tell Mr. Hale gruffly.
Diane comes back, as if she has been waiting for the right moment to do so. She hands Mrs. Hale her latte and then takes a sip of her own. “I’ve spoken with Mr. and Mrs. Hale before bringing you here. They are your family, Grayson. There is no need for you to stay in foster care when they are willing to take you in.”
“We’re not just taking Grayson in,” Mrs. Hale says, pinning Diane with a look. “We are legally adopting him.”
I slump back into my chair, my breath leaving me with a loud whoosh. I’ve been punched in the gut before, but this is the first time I’ve felt so out of breath.
Family…legally adopting…
What? WHAT?
My fingers grip the table tightly, until my knuckles turn white and numb. The world sways back and forth.
This is all happening too fast. I can’t even question Mr. and Mrs. Hale's motives. They can’t be frauds, no matter how much I want to believe they are. I don’t trust adults, because they always expect something in return. Mr. and Mrs. Hale have just randomly blazed into my life, acting like some kind of guardian angels for me.
I can’t possibly trust them…
But there’s no deception in their eyes. Their gazes are solid and relentless, truthful.
Their credentials speak for themselves, the photos, Diane’s trust in them…
And the story of Hadley and Harrison Avery — I know it’s all real.
My eyes fall on the table when I don’t have the strength to hold their gazes anymore. My head swims and I can’t focus on what Diane and them are talking about.
Yesterday, I had no one. I belonged nowhere.
I was just another lost, forgotten someone in foster care.
And now? I find out that I have a family , other than Naomi. A family who possibly cares . I’m not trailer trash, like I’ve been called all my life. I belong to an upper-class, prestigious family. But am I just a charity case to them?
“Look at me, son.” My eyes snap to Mr. Hale. His tone is authoritative and filled with absolute confidence. I don’t dare defy his command.
He reaches forward, his hand covering mine. He gives it a squeeze and doesn’t let go. His hand is surprisingly warm. “You belong with us, never doubt that. You were forced to grow up too fast, but right now, all you have to do is focus on yourself and let us do the rest. And no more fighting in that illegal pit. You’ve been there every week for almost five months now.”
My eyes widen when he mentions the pit. I open my mouth to defend myself, but then wisely shut up.
He raises his eyebrow. “I know. I know everything .”
“Sir, Mr. Hale—
He waves a flippant hand. “You can call me Ben. Or, Uncle Ben — but that’s for when you’re ready to accept me as your uncle. So, for now, I’m just Ben and she’s Naveah.”
Mrs. Hale stands and offers me her hand to take. I don’t take it. A smile tugs at her lips, as if my stubbornness amuses her. Except this is not me being stubborn . I’m merely apprehensive of their intentions.
Because I haven’t met a lot of good people in my life, I’ve started to believe they don’t exist. Miss Stranger and Diane are the only exceptions so far.
“What is expected of me?” I finally have the strength to ask. “What happens when I do something against the rules? You’ll kick me out? What happens if I’m not what you’re expecting me to be? What happens if I flunk school?”
I know I won’t. My grades are impeccable, and I have a solid GPA.
“There’s no kicking out happening.” Mr. Hale growls. “ Ever. And believe it or not, Grayson — we’ve learned a lot about you in the past few weeks before actually approaching you. We know who you are.”
“And the only rule you need to explicitly follow is that we have dinner together.” Mrs. Hale smiles tenderly. “And dinner is always at seven.”
She wiggles her hand toward me again, still waiting for me to take it. “Give us a chance,” she whispers, her brown eyes soft with sincerity.
I swallow past the lump in my throat, and then I take her hand. She gives me a light squeeze, and when I stand up, she lets go. Mr. Hale follows suit and my eyes widen as he straightens to his full height.
Well, shit…he is tall. As big as me.
A smirk tugs on his lips when he notices my expression. “You get it too? The stares?”
I nod silently. Damn it all, now I know where I got my height and big frame.
He walks around the table and clasps my shoulders. “There’s one thing my mother always told us, and now I’m telling you. Family is not determined by blood. The best family for you is the family you choose. You might be related by blood, but Naveah and I chose you. And some day, I hope you choose us too.”
I don’t know what I’m expecting from Mr. and Mrs. Hale. I don’t know what my future looks like.
I don’t know how to be a family with anyone, other than Naomi.
Right now, I know nothing. My mind is simply a blank canvas. I hear Diane mentioning ‘a new beginning’ but that doesn’t make sense at all.
How do I start a new life when the past still haunts me?
It still whispers in my ears — reminding me of where I come from, of my value, of my failures and of my loss.