3. Grayson
Chapter 3
Grayson
(10 years old)
Ashton’s driver pulls up in front of my place, and I give my best friend a fist pump before reaching for my backpack that’s lying by my feet. My mom used to pick me up from school, but when my dad got sick, I had to start taking the bus. That only lasted a day. As soon as Ashton found out, he insisted his driver take me home in his ridiculous stretch limousine, even though I lived in the opposite direction to him. My family has money, but his parents are stupid rich. Like gazillionaires.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, grasping the door handle.
Ashton refuses to let his driver open our doors. I know he’s embarrassed by being chauffeured around. We go to a private school where everybody’s families are wealthy, but most of us aren’t in his league.
After exiting the car and closing the door, I give Ashton a quick wave through the window before turning and jogging across the lawn toward the front porch. I used to love coming home, but not so much these days. Everything has changed since my father’s illness. There’s a constant black cloud hanging over our family .
I feel the knots in my stomach return the moment I step through the front door. My mom used to greet me with a warm smile and a hug before leading me into the kitchen for some milk and cookies, always asking about my day. Although I miss those times, I don’t begrudge her for not being present lately; she’s dealing with a lot. Not only my father’s cancer, but caring for Katlin, my baby sister.
My dad is her life, and the light that once shone bright in her eyes is slowly diminishing with each passing day. I can’t wait until my dad’s well again so everything can get back to normal.
I drop my school bag in the mudroom, kick off my shoes, and head toward the kitchen to get a drink. When I hear Granny’s voice and my mother’s muffled sobs as I approach, I freeze.
“He’s my soul mate, Mom, I can’t do this without him.” Even though Granny is technically my dad’s mother, my mom and her have always been close. She’s the best.
“Hush now,” Granny replies. “You need to keep it together; those babies need you.”
I peek around the corner and see Granny cup my mother’s cheeks, lifting her head from where it was resting against her shoulder. They both have tears streaming down their faces, making my heart sink. They usually put on a brave front around me.
Has something happened?
“You heard what the oncologist said, they’ve exhausted every avenue, there’s nothing more they can do. I can’t do this on my own. I’m going to have to sell the house just to cover the medical bills, how can I look after the kids and provide for them too?”
Sell the house ?
“You have me… always,” Granny says, “Besides, my boy’s a fighter; I refuse to believe this is the end for him.”
Those words scramble my brain. I knew things were bad, but this? I clutch my stomach as bile rises to my throat. The end? Is my dad going to die? It can’t be true.
Turning, I run across the great room, heading down the long hallway that leads toward the bedroom at the back of the house. My parents moved down here, to the lower level a few months ago, when the stairs became too much for my dad.
My hand is trembling as I reach for the handle. I knew he was pretty sick, but my mom told me not to worry, and that everything was going to be okay. I guess that wasn’t true.
Cracking open the door, I pause, taking in the fragile man who’s curled into a ball on the bed. He’s wearing striped pajama bottoms and a white T-shirt that’s swimming on him.
There are countless orange canisters filled with his medication cluttering the bedside table. The treatment he’s been on made his hair fall out months ago, but it’s the weight loss I’m struggling with. I was told his hair would grow back. Although the changes in him happened gradually over time, I’m looking at him through different eyes in this moment. He looks so much sicker than I allowed myself to believe. Tears rise to my eyes. It’s true, we’re losing him, I can see it, I can feel it, and it hurts. It hurts a lot.
Creeping across the room, trying not to wake him, I crawl onto the bed. I can’t lose him. He’s my best friend. Well, technically Ashton is, but my dad has been there for me my entire life. My mind drifts to all the things we’ve done together over the years. Tossing the ball in the backyard, playing catch, camping, fishing, and all the things he’s taught me. Things I’ve taken for granted up until this moment. I know exactly how my mom feels, I’m not sure I can do life without him either.
I lie here for the longest time, just staring at a man I barely recognize. His face is gaunt and a funny color, greyish instead of pink. His breathing is shallow, how could I have been in such denial?
A coughing fit eventually wakes him, and when he spots me a smile tugs at his dry, cracked lips.
“Grayson,” he says, which comes out more like a wheeze.
“Hey, Dad.” I lift my hand bringing it down to rest on his bony upper arm. I can feel the tears burning the back of my eyes, but I swallow them down along with the lump that’s now lodged in my throat.
“Everything okay, son?” he asks.
“I just got home from school and I wanted to see you.”
“How was your day?”
“Okay,” I reply with a shrug. School is the last thing on my mind right now. I can’t get past what I just heard in the kitchen. I have so many questions. Like is it true, are you leaving us? Are we going to be homeless? But I’m not sure I’m ready for those answers, so I choose a safer subject instead. “Dad, what’s a soul mate?”
“A soul mate? Why, do you have a girlfriend I didn’t know about?”
I scrunch up my nose. “No way. Yuk. Girls are gross.” He chuckles, bringing on another bout of coughing. “I heard Mom tell Granny you were her soul mate.”
Those words have him smiling again. “A soul mate is a person that’s made especially for you. The other half of your soul. ”
“Wait what? We’re born with only half a soul?”
My dad lets out another small laugh followed by more coughing. It hurts so much to see him like this. He was always so strong. He used to carry me around on his shoulders with zero effort at all.
“Technically no, I was speaking metaphorically. I guess what I’m trying to say is after your mother came into my life, I felt more whole… complete.”
“Oh,” I reply because it sounds like gibberish to me. Maybe the medication he’s on is making him a little crazy.
“I’m not doing a good job of explaining, am I? I can see the confusion on your face.” I shrug in reply. “I’m not saying I wasn’t happy before I met her, because I was. I had a good life growing up. Things just became better once your mom came along. One day you’ll find your own special someone and you’ll understand.”
I hold back my gag because I’d rather eat a slug. “How did you know she was the one?”
“It’s hard to explain, Gray,” he replies, pausing for a moment to find the right words. “It was like a sudden realization, an enlightenment you could say; I just knew in that instant she’d become my wife one day.”
“But how?” I ask because none of this is making sense.
“Well for starters, when she smiled at me all the air expelled from my lungs. That had never happened to me before. Something told me she was different from all the others prior. It was a strange feeling, but my heart just knew in that moment she was mine.”
Even at my impressionable age, it seemed a little far-fetched, but I’d witnessed the love they shared firsthand. They both lit up when the other was around; they couldn’t be in the same room without touching each other, or kissing—which was kind of gross—but something deep inside me just knew he was speaking his truth .
It was one of the last conversations I’d have with my father, he slipped into a coma two days later and was sadly gone from this world by the end of that week.