CHAPTER ELEVEN
Grayson — 16 years old (Sophomore year)
I never thought of myself as a stalker.
I mean, they did send me an invitation. So why am I standing here, outside the restaurant, looking on at them like some kind of pathetic stalker?
Honestly, I don’t know.
It’s been a year since I’ve last seen my sister.
What am I supposed to say to her? Do I hug her? Will she still recognize me? Will she run to me when she sees me? Am I still the slayer of dragons …or has her adopted father taken on that role now?
I know I shouldn’t be jealous of a grown-ass adult, who probably loves Naomi as much as I do, but damn — I’m envious that they get to watch her grow, they get to be with her, when I can’t do the same.
Mikael and Rehya have kept their promises, sending me photos of Naomi over the last few months. Today is the first time I’ve received an invitation to come see her.
On her birthday.
Exactly a year after.
But a lot has changed in a year.
She’s changed. Naomi is taller, and her curly, thick hair is longer. Her eyes are bluer, which I thought was impossible, but they really are a brighter blue.
And she talks now.
Not a lot, not frequently…but she talks.
Naomi has a speech impediment — she stutters.Mikael and Rehya have put her through speech therapy, but nonetheless, she’s happy in her life now. She’s a bright, smart and beautiful little princess, who has everything she deserves.
Good memories and proud parents.
I have changed. Somehow.
Though if someone was to ask me how I’ve changed, I wouldn’t have an answer.
I’m not Grayson Avery anymore. Benjamin and Naveah Hale legally adopted me two months ago. I can still vividly remember the proud smile on their faces once the papers were finalized.
I am Grayson Hale now.
Uncle Ben says I’ve always been a Hale — that I’ve always been a part of them.
Except, it has taken me sixteen years to get here. Some days, I still feel like I don’t belong anywhere . Sometimes, I still feel lost — just a body wandering around, waiting for another shitstorm. But that’s why Uncle Ben has sent me to therapy, which I go to routinely.
It doesn’t really help because I hate talking. To anyone, really.
I like the solitude that comes with silence. I’m better at studying people, than making small talk. Less words are always better than unnecessary ones that usually end up as lies. The more people talk, the more lies we tell.
Yeah, silence is always better.
“Are you going inside or you gonna continue lurking here?”
My body tenses at the familiar voice. Fuck.
I don’t turn around, but I hear his footsteps coming closer. The sound of the leaves crunching underneath his shoes, and then he comes to a halt beside me. “Are you following me?” I question roughly.
“You’re my son,” he says, as if that answers the question.
Harrison Avery, my father, was released from prison six weeks ago. He tracked me down and found out that I had been adopted by Uncle Ben and Aunt Naveah. Since then, he’s been making his displeasure known. He says that they stole me from him, just like they tried to keep my mother and him separate.
“Uncle Ben is not going to be happy about this,” I tell him.
“Yeah, well, he’s always had a problem with me.”
Because you’re an addict and a felon. Because you’re the reason why my mother is dead. Because you destroyed her life.
Because you ruined mine and Naomi’s life too.
Except I don’t tell him any of this. While it’s been a long time since I’ve last seen my father, I still remember he has a dangerous temper. Maybe he’s changed — but I can’t trust him.
I can’t allow myself to trust anyone, really.
The less attached I am to people, the less disappointed I will be when they leave. Because they will leave.
Everyone leaves at some point.
Trusting someone means making myself vulnerable. It gives them power to break me. No, I can’t possibly allow that.
My father claps me on the shoulder. “I want my family back, son.” I give him a side-eye, before looking back at the restaurant. Naomi is blowing out the candles on her pink cake, with a huge smile on her face.
“You and Naomi,” he continues, “we can be a family again. We’ll go far away from here, where we can live together. We share the same blood, Grayson. We are the same people. They will never understand us. But I understand you. I see you and Naomi as my family.”
Maybe…just maybe if he had said those words to me a year ago, I would have accepted them as the truth. A year ago, I was lost and desperate, unsure of what I was searching for. So, if Harrison Avery had found me then and spoken those words — I would have gone with him.
But not now, not anymore.
“Naomi is happy where she’s at, with her new family. People that love her and chose her. You can’t take that away from her.”
My father shakes his head. “You don’t understand. I’m not taking anything away from her. Can’t you see? They have taken from us . They have separated us. Look at you. You’re standing here because you can’t bring yourself to go and see your sister. A sister that you love dearly. But we can be reunited again. A family, Grayson. Our family .”
Shrugging his hand off my shoulder, I turn to face him. My father is slightly shorter than me, and where I’m bulky, he’s lean. His pale skin is sunburned, and I see some freckles that neither Naomi nor I inherited. His blondish hair is messy, and his clothing is disheveled. I think there was a time when he would have been considered handsome, but now he looks ten years older than he actually is. He has aged, and I can see the aftereffects of the drugs on his body and face.
My mother used to say that I was the perfect combination of her and my father. But I don’t see it anymore.
Taking a deep breath, I exhale slowly. “I don’t know what kind of relationship you want from Naomi and me. You’ve never been much of a father and I don’t know what kind of life you can possibly give us.” I step forward, moving into his personal space. My father takes half a step back, frowning. His blue eyes darken in a way that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. He knows I’m bigger than him, stronger too.
I’m no longer the small child he left behind.
My nose wrinkles when I catch the heavy smell of marijuana and alcohol coming from him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s still partaking in his shady, illegal business of selling cocaine and shit.
I don’t want this man anywhere near my sister. “But listen to me, you stay away from Naomi. You’ve barely even been in her life. She doesn’t know you. Don’t lie and say you care, because if you had cared, you wouldn’t have left us to fend for ourselves. Now you’re back, years later, and you want me to believe that you have our best interests at heart?”
He swallows and then nods slowly. “I understand why you won’t believe me. I haven’t been the best parental figure.”
I run my fingers through my raven-black hair. It’s grown a little longer than the last time I took a hair trimmer to it. I make a mental note to cut my hair when I get home. Anyway, I like to keep it short, buzz cut to the scalp — marine-style.
“I understand your concerns about Naomi. You are right; I won’t disrupt her life.” He shoves his hand into the pocket of his navy-blue jeans. “But what about you? You’re older and you remember me. Can we at least have a relationship?”
He pulls something out of his pocket, his fist closed. My father stretches his arm toward me, as if to hand me whatever he’s holding. Feeling skeptical at first, I don’t take the bait. My fists clench at my sides, and I keep my arms down. Refusing to take anything from him.
He opens his fist, showing me a light-colored, familiar rock. It’s small enough to hold in the palm of his hand. “Do you remember this?” he asks, his voice gruff. “You gave this to me; you said it was a pretty rock. I kept it, all these years.”
I remember now.
I was eight years old when I found the granite rock. I waddled home, like a happy penguin with my treasure and proudly showed it to my father. He seemed disinterested back then.
“You told me that granite forms from the slow crystallization of magma underneath the earth’s surface.”
My eyes snap to his face. “You remember?”
“I remember.”
“I didn’t think you were listening.”
His smile is bittersweet. “I’m not always a good listener. But believe me, I do care for you, son.”
He keeps his arm stretched out between us, the rock still in his hand. Waiting for me to take it. “Give me a chance to prove it.”
I swallow past the heavy lump in my throat. Reaching forward, I take the rock from his hand. My tanned, brown skin is a stark contrast to his unhealthy pale skin.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell him, shoving the rock into my pocket.
He grins. “Thank you, Grayson. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
I simply shrug, then watch as he takes a step back. He walks away, his lean frame disappearing between the thick trees.
I don’t glance back at the restaurant, where Naomi is celebrating her sixth birthday with her new family and her kindergarten friends.
Mikael and Rehya have closed their restaurant for today and have transformed the place into a kid’s playground. With balloons and child-friendly games.
Naomi is dressed in a green princessy dress, and she has a tiara on top of her head. Her curly hair frames her tiny face. A birthday party that I’ve never been able to give her before.
Maybe I am a coward for walking away.
But just like I asked my father not to disrupt Naomi’s life — I have absolutely no right to do the same.
Maybe I am a coward for walking away…
But I refuse to confuse Naomi. To have her question why we’re not together, why we’ve been separated. What do I tell her? She’s too young to understand.
Maybe one day when she’s older…
She needs to move on, without me interfering in her life like this. Popping in randomly after a year. I am the ghost of her past, and I need to keep it that way.
“Goodbye, Princess,” I breathe.
***
Aunt Naveah piles up my plate with Caribbean rice and beans. Her specialty and probably my favorite dish of hers. That and her apple pie. “Wait, that’s too much,” I tell her.
She puts another spoonful on my plate, leveling me with a look that says don’t even try it.Aunt Naveah has her hair in a head wrap and is wearing a flowery apron. Her smile is warm and infectious. “You’re a growing boy with an appetite, I know. So, hush, and eat now. I don’t always cook.”
They have a personal chef who makes all our daily meals. But on Sundays, Aunt Naveah is the one who does the cooking. She spends the whole day in the kitchen. Unless she’s got an emergency surgery to rush to. Which has only happened twice so far.
So Aunt Naveah doesn’t always cook. But when she does, she makes sure that Uncle Ben and me finish the whole casserole. She doesn’t allow any leftovers.
I wait for both Uncle Ben and Aunt Naveah to start eating first, before shoving a spoon of rice in my mouth and chewing enthusiastically. “You’re not feeding an army,” I grumble under my breath, without any heat. I know she enjoys cooking on Sundays.
She points between me and Uncle Ben. “I am feeding two men who equal an army. And you, Mr. Hale,” she directs her attention to her husband.
“What did I do now?”
“You’re starting to grow a belly.” She smiles sweetly. “To the gym!”
“I will, if you join me for some cardio exercise.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.
My eyes quickly dart to the table, ignoring their apparent flirting. Sometimes they forget that they have a teenager living under their roof now. Uncle Ben and Aunt Naveah have been married for twenty years now, but I still catch them giving each other lovey-dovey eyes and they flirt as if they are still in high school.
I guess the love between them hasn’t faded away in all the years they have been together. I don’t think I believe in true love, but seeing them together — it’s hard to deny that true love probably does exist.
Maybe just not for me.
But for them? Yeah.
I cut the grilled chicken into precise pieces before taking a small bite. It’s soft, tender and flavorful. Aunt Naveah says that if she wasn’t a doctor, she would have chosen to become a chef.
I bet she’d make a really good one.
“Grayson.” I lift my head at Uncle Ben’s voice. “Has your father tried to get in contact with you again?”
Oh shit.
He asks the question innocently, but I can almost sense an underlying warning in it. Uncle Ben knew when my father was released from prison, and he warned me that Harrison would probably come looking for me. He was not wrong.
I chew on the chicken and then swallow. “Yesterday,” I tell him truthfully. There’s no point lying to Uncle Ben; he always finds out the truth eventually. And to be honest, I don’t want to screw with him. Not because he’s a powerful man. But because I respect him.
“I was jogging at the park and he found me. Uhm, we talked for a bit. He says that he would like to have lunch with me some time, if I choose to.”
Harrison Avery is persistent, I’ll give him that.
Too bad I don’t trust him.
Aunt Naveah grimaces, but she doesn’t say anything. Uncle Ben is quiet for a minute. The sound of our silver cutlery clinking against our porcelain plates fills the silence.
Once our plates and the table are cleared, Aunt Naveah brings out her infamous apple pie. “Extra cinnamon, just for you,” she says, with a twinkle in her brown eyes.
“You are a smart young man,” Uncle Ben finally speaks, and when he does, it’s with utmost confidence and self-assurance in his tone. He truly does have the power to control the whole room with his voice. “Mature for your age. I will not control you and neither will I make decisions for you. You are mature enough to know what’s right and what’s wrong. And I trust you to make the right decisions. We trust you.”
My heart stammers in my chest.
The last person who ever had any kind of trust in me was my sister.
“Thank you.” I swallow and then exhale shakily. “I understand. I will never break your trust, Sir.”
“Uncle Ben,” he says gruffly.
I nod. “Okay.” He stares at me expectantly. “Uncle Ben.”
It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud. In my head, I have been calling them Uncle Ben and Aunt Naveah, but every time I speak to them, it is either Sir or Ma’am , slipping past my lips. They’ve tried to correct me many times, but it just never feels right.
Until today.
Until now.
Uncle Ben leans back in his chair and wraps his arm around the back of Aunt Naveah’s. His fingers brush against her shoulders with a soothing touch, rubbing back and forth in circles.
They’ve both got the goofiest grins on their faces.
I shove another spoonful of pie into my mouth, to hide my own relieved smile.