Chapter 61 #2
What’s going on? I know you didn’t say that on accident, Mrs. Hunt.
Still, I bit my tongue long enough for us both to order coffee. Mrs. Hunt led us to the isolated table in the back, somehow completely removed from the rest of the cafe—almost like she knew that particular booth would be open at this time.
“See, Chance, if I may. Your adopted father has a personality of ‘get mine.’ He’s only a good negotiator for those who believe in short-term wins at the expense of long-term relationships. He prefers money over relationships. He’s…”
She sighed.
“I don’t fault you for what you did. And to some extent, too, it’s always something of destiny for a father’s sons to try and overthrow him.
Usually, it just happens metaphorically, in that the father retires and the sons take over, perhaps not even in the same line of business, but just in the sense that the family’s earning power now revolves around the sons.
But you, you were a bit more direct with your actions. ”
“I suppose,” I said. “We just felt… Well, let me correct that. I felt a certain way. I can’t speak for Morgan.”
Mrs. Hunt sighed, but she then shook her head.
“Morgan’s got his own plans, I’m sure,” she said. “I know you don’t like Edwin, but it’s not like Morgan loves him, either. Well, he does love him, but it’s not like he likes him. There’s a whole mess of complications with that.”
“Tell me about it,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee.
“Anyways, Chance, now that we’ve rambled long enough and had enough gossip to make the Page Six of the NY Post explode, I should tell you why I’m here and why I’ve had us bouncing all over around.
You see, I know you think what I’ve said so far might be out of character, but truth be told, I’m feeling rather free right now. ”
“How come?”
“I’m getting a divorce.”
The words didn’t really hit home at first, allowing me to put my coffee down before I spit it up in shock. But slowly, as the implication of the word came through, I wanted to throw over the entire table in surprise.
Wives in Melanie Hunt’s position just didn’t get divorced.
I would have thought that by now, if Mrs. Hunt didn’t have a happily ever after marriage—which she clearly had not, something I had known since my teenage years—they would have either sucked it up or they would have made private arrangements with the husband that allowed him to keep his public reputation or, really, they would have just waited until he died.
Granted, I didn’t think Edwin would ever agree to a “side deal” of sorts where they remained publicly together but privately separate, but I’m sure compared to the embarrassment of seeing his divorce dragged out through the various headlines, it beat the alternative.
“Really,” I said, not so much begging the question as I was just stating my thoughts more succinctly.
“Yes, really,” Mrs. Hunt said, finally removing her sunglasses, and I’ll be damned if, for once, she looked younger than she normally did.
“You have handled the situation on your side of things with grace. For all that you’ve been put through, you made me realize that a person can lose that connection and still thrive.
So, Chance, thank you. You gave me the courage to move on past something that has done nothing but make me feel rich on the outside but very, very poor on the inside. ”
“Wow,” I said, but something was bugging me. “How do you know all this? Edwin would have his side, but… you sound like you know what I’ve been up to.”
Mrs. Hunt just shrugged with a casual, uplifted smile, the kind of smile I had only seen her wear at Morgan’s and my graduation from college several months ago—and, before that, I couldn’t remember when the last time she had worn it was. She really was happier now, and I… I had played a part?
“I do have friends in the city, you know, and so do you,” she said.
“I guess,” I said, still uncertain what that meant. I didn’t want all of this to revolve around me, though; I wasn’t the one ending a marriage spanning multiple decades. “So… is this like official? Or is this just—”
“I already spoke to a lawyer this morning,” she said. “He’s preparing the paperwork right now. Edwin doesn’t know yet, but that’s because he refuses all outside mail until… about now. So, yeah, probably—”
As if on cue, Mrs. Hunt’s phone began to blow up, dialing multiple times even when she chose to decline the call. Eventually, she just put it on silent and let it vibrate in her pocket.
“We’re going to make sure all my calls are recorded,” she said. “I’m going to the lawyer’s office right now, actually. I had just wanted to swing by and tell you thank you, because you really were the catalyst for this.”
“You’re, uh, welcome, I guess?” I said, not sure that “caused divorce” would make for a great bullet point on my life resume, even if it wasn’t as bad as someone who had initiated said divorce by sleeping with other people. “This is all just so surreal, so fast. Does Morgan know?”
“By now, probably,” Mrs. Hunt said. “I texted him that I needed to talk to him about twenty minutes ago, but he hasn’t responded yet. My guess, frankly, is he’ll feel the same way as you do. Shocked, but happy?”
“Most certainly,” I said, not containing my smile. “I guess the shock is still so strong that I can’t be happy yet.”
“Well, I’ll give you something that I think will do that.”
She reached into her purse and pulled out what looked like a checkbook. I bit my lip as I had a strange feeling of what was coming. Was she… was she going to help me with more money?
She quickly scribbled some stuff on the check before sliding it to me, face down.
“I know what Edwin did to you as far as kicking you out of your place,” she said. “This will be enough to get you settled and to figure things out. I’d cash it quickly if I were you before our finances start getting analyzed so quickly.”
“Are you sure?” I said, knowing full well that Mrs. Hunt had almost just written me a check for at least six figures, if not more.
“Chance, you and Morgan are the same to me. You are both my sons, and I love you both equally. Because of this, I give you the same treatment and care that I would give anyone I would love. I don’t want to see you suffer. So yes, I am sure. But right now, I have to get going to the lawyer.”
She stood up, and I matched her, even though, my coffee was only half finished.
“I love you, son,” she said, kissing me on the cheek and pulling me close. “I was too cowardly before to break away, but better late than never. Thank you.”
The moment was so emotional, I actually began to feel my eyes water. I didn’t come close to crying, but damn if I hadn’t had a more special moment with my mother than right now. I squeezed her tight, said, “Get to it,” and kissed her on the forehead.
“One thing still bugs me, though,” I said, smiling. “Who told you about all of this from my side?”
She shrugged.
“Confidential,” she said. “But you should be able to figure it out, OK? I gotta go, love you.”
“Love you, Mom.”
I hadn’t even meant to utter that word to her. But she realized it too, pausing, giving me a look like she was about to cry, and then ducking away.
She really was my mom, more so than anyone I had ever known, most especially my actual mother, whoever and wherever she was.
Mrs. Hunt, my mother, had stayed with me in the parental role and continued to provide nurturing support, all through my attempts to push her away, all through all of the grief and nonsense that I gave her.
If that didn’t make her worthy of the title “Mom,” then nothing did.
I sat back down, pondering the conversation, wondering who the source of the talks was. Layla? That seemed a bit unlikely. Morgan? Possible, but why would he still be on my side? A family friend I hadn’t considered?
It’ll come out. Just keep doing you.
I looked down at the check and slowly peeled it back, revealing the amount.
“Jesus,” I said, stunned at the figure.
A million bucks.
I knew Mom wanted me to do whatever I needed with it, to help get back on my feet, but… a million goddamn dollars? I didn’t need a place where the rent was over eighty grand a month, I just needed a simple place that a tenth of this would have covered. A million bucks…
In some parts of the country, this was enough to retire on.
Was this my mother’s way of telling me to get away from the madness, to find peace in solidarity, and escape the life that Morgan now seemed set up on?
Possible, certainly, but she hadn’t said anything about escaping anything other than her own marriage with Edwin.
No, I couldn’t just get my own place with the money. I needed to do something more substantial with it.
But what?
And then someone else walked in through the door, and immediately, even though that person and I were probably not on the best of terms right now, I knew what I could do with the money.