56. FIFTY-SIX
FIFTY-SIX
“You’re Hudson’s son?”
I’m still not sure about this, but when Abel —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.
“Thank you, but I’m okay. I don’t want to impose.”
Abel comes back into the house after retrieving his things from his car and claps me gently on the shoulder. “Nonsense. We insist. Besides, you should get a full night’s sleep and a shower before your interview.”
“You have an interview?”
“Yes, Marie, that’s why I asked you to grab Jackie’s old suits.” He chortles at his wife.
She sniffs hotly. “I thought maybe Jack wanted them.”
“That boy would rather die than wear a suit.”
I simply stand there while they bicker about their son, who is twenty-five. Folding my arms even tighter, I sneak my thumb in my mouth. “ Anyway ,” Abel says with an exaggerated tone. “Let me show you to the room, and I’ll grab some clean towels and clothes for you.”
“How did you know my dad? Like…you’re a bit older than he was.”
Abel, who I found out today is fifty-seven, pushes his glasses up his nose.
“I enjoy sitting in on classes, especially over the last decade or so. Medicine never stops evolving, and whenever I went, I always ran into Hudson. He would ask me questions about my practice, and we would talk about studies. Despite our slight age difference, he became a close friend.”
“So you weren’t in pre-med with him like you said.”
Abel smiles. “No. It was easier to say that than explain I sneak into college campuses to listen to lectures instead of reading boring literature online.”
I laugh at that. It just bubbles out of me, but I quickly stamp it down. “Did you… Did you ever meet—”
He shakes his head. “Unfortunately, I never met Lily, but Hudson—your dad—spoke of her often. You as well.”
I nod, blinking quickly so I don’t cry. “I miss them.”
Thankfully, Abel doesn’t say anything more; he just leads me up the stairs. When we reach the top, he stops suddenly and scratches the back of his wirey, graying hair. “I do believe I have a picture. A Christmas card of all things.”
“Huh?”
He faces me, his eyes dancing with excitement.
“I’d completely forgotten about it! I’ll go find it while you’re in the shower.
Here. Towels are in this cupboard.” He shows me the extras and where the bathroom is.
Then he opens his son's bedroom door with a flourish. “And this is where you can stay.”
“Are you sure? I—I’m honestly fine on my own.”
The good doctor blows me off with a raspberry and waves his hand. “Think of it as a long-overdue invitation. And in the morning, we can go over the pamphlets together. Sound good?”
“Y-Yeah. Actually, that sounds really good. Um. Thanks…Doctor Perry.”
“Abel. Please. Call me Abel.”
I nod. He smiles. Then he darts down the hall, surprisingly fast.
With the towel wrapped around my waist, I sit on the closed toilet and stare at my texts.
Hunter read the one I sent this morning, but he never wrote back. I guess he doesn’t care. It must’ve all been some weird experiment or maybe he just wanted to play with my dick.
Sniffling, I go to delete the thread, but because I want to hurt more than I already do, I scroll through it one last time. It’s mainly me asking him what he wants for dinner, or him saying he’ll be home at a certain time.
Home.
I glance up, my vision blurry as I stare at the stereotypical art on the bathroom wall. It’s a beach scene with exaggerated, enlarged seashells on yellow sand. Waves crash against nothing, and a sunset-style horizon serves as the backdrop. I could’ve been making art for bathrooms or art in general.
My thoughts turn to all the supplies Hunter bought for me. The spray cans…the sketchpads and pencils.
Why did he do that?
Why the fuck did he do any of it?
My hand grips my phone tighter as my breaths saw out of me, tears welling further in my eyes.
I stare at the picture on the wall, angry that I’m here.
Angry that I let myself fall for it. Angry because I still want a different fucking picture.
I want the one I drew on his body…in the sketchbook.
I want the picture he promised we’d have.
Dropping my eyes back to the phone, I scroll higher up the conversation and find the ones from when we first met.
It’s crazy how much concern was transferred into them. Hunter always asked if I was safe—if I was okay. That at any time, I could call him and he’d come get me. The proof I’m looking for is here in these texts. Hell, it’s everything that’s happened up until the last two days.
He cared until he didn’t. He wanted me until the cost of having me was too much to pay. He showed me what it was like to have someone love me again and then took it away.
I delete the thread.
Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I leave the bathroom and dart across the hall to Abel’s son’s room.
I get dressed, put the phone on the charger, and then go downstairs.
Abel and Marie are in their living room, cuddled up next to each other on the couch, looking at an ancient photo album.
I meander over, chewing my thumb and desperately trying not to sniffle. My nose is still dripping from crying.
“I found it!” Abel beams, beckoning me over.
I don’t know where to sit. Marie decides for me, gently tugging on my wrist so I sit beside her. “That’s a cute nose ring.” She looks at my septum ring. “Do you have any more piercings?”
Nodding, I stick my tongue out, and she giggles. “Jack will be so jealous.”
Abel harrumphs. “And he will stay jealous. Tongue piercings are easily infected. Have you had any abnormal swelling?” The doctor looks at me, and I blush.
“When I first got it done. But I was sixteen and did it myself.”
His eyes round, and then his bushy eyebrows furrow in distress. “Please do not pierce yourself. If you had nicked a vein or your lingual frenulum, you’d have a problem. Not to mention—”
“Shh! Show him the picture.” Marie swats at her husband’s arm.
“It’s alright. I was… Well, I wanted to act out. I promise, I got my septum done by a reasonably professional piercer.”
Abel scowls at the photo album he’s flipping through, mumbling something under his breath, which gets him another swat. “Here it is.”
Marie takes the album and places it between us. One side is on her right thigh, the other on my left. “Oh wow,” I breathe, staring at the Christmas card from when I was about nine.
Nine and chubby.
Obviously, my hair was natural, but it’s been so long since I’ve seen it all brown that it comes as a shock.
I’m grinning ear to ear with an oversized Santa hat on my head.
I’m sitting on my mom’s lap, and my dad has his arm thrown around her shoulders.
I look like my dad more now than I did as a kid.
But in this picture I look like my momma.
“Lily was beautiful,” Marie comments, brushing her finger over my mom’s golden hair.
She gave me her eyes, which are a light blue that looks like crystals. My dad’s eyes are dark blue, almost midnight.
“You can have it,” Abel says gently, while Marie is already working on pulling it from the sheer plastic sleeve.
With the glossy cardstock in my hands, I hiccup.
My teeth slam into my bottom lip as I stare and stare at my family.
My momma and my dad. The people who loved me so much that I’ll never find that love again.
The only ones in the world who would’ve never abandoned me had it not been for fucking death.
“It’s alright, Gray.” Marie hands me a tissue. I don’t know where she got it, but I take it with a murmured thanks. “Do you like banana bread? I was going to nuke a few slices with butter and brown sugar. Banana foster style.”
The hiccup turns into a painful sob. “Yeah. I love banana bread.” I clutch the card to my chest, rub my nose with the tissue, and she rubs my back. “It’s my…favorite.”
It’s inevitable. I don’t know why I’ve tried fighting it for so long. The dam breaks behind my eyes, and I curl into myself, crying with my forehead pressed into my knees.
“Gray,” Abel says after a while, his wife never stopping her gentle caresses on my back.
I heave a breath. Then another. When I finally manage to lift my head, his eyes are wet.
“I wish I had known what happened to you sooner. Hudson was a friend, and it pains me to know you went without family for this long. I know we only just met, but Marie and I have known you for a long time. Please…stay with us until you can get on your feet. Hudson would’ve done the same for Jack and… ”
“I’ll stay,” I croak. “I’ll…stay."
Marie smiles sweetly, taking the tissue from my hand and wiping my tears. “How about that banana bread?”
I nod quickly. “Please. It makes everything better.”
“That it does.” She winks and air kisses my cheek.