38. You’ve done everything
You’ve done everything
Catherine Amaia Gibson chose a Monday to die.
She said it was because everyone always hated Mondays anyway, so she wouldn’t be ruining another day.
Hunter flew straight from Croatia to Montreal the day filming finished.
He didn’t even stay for the wrap party, which tabloids were reporting meant he was difficult to work with.
It didn’t help that Jack Byrne, when asked about it, shrugged and muttered, “Some people aren’t in it for more than the paycheck. ”
It made Hunter look shitty, but he didn’t care.
All he cared about was getting home to spend two days with his mom before she left this earth.
And they were good days. There were a ton of tears, but there was also a ton of laughter.
His parents held hands and kissed a lot.
They walked Manuel the cat together when her headaches weren’t too bad and she wasn’t dizzy.
When she was, she napped on the couch with the cat curled up on her, Hunter and his father chatting quietly beside her.
They ordered all her favorite meals even though she couldn’t eat more than a couple of bites.
They were a connected, complete family for the first and last time.
She shook Hunter awake Monday before the sun rose.
She sat on the side of his bed as he blinked sleep from his eyes, which were puffy from crying himself to sleep.
She smoothed his hair. “You’re the best thing I ever did, Hunter.
” She wore a small but deep smile he could see in the low light coming in from the moon outside the window.
“I know that’s something women who give birth say, but even though I didn’t do that, I helped create who you are. ”
“You did,” Hunter agreed and bit his bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “You are the best mom I could ever have asked for.”
“Thanks, baby.” She hadn’t called him baby since he was a preteen. “I’m still worried about you, though. You have a restless heart. All artists do.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I researched it,” she said proudly.
“When you first started begging me to act and do theater, I thought, whoa, this kid is out of my comfort zone. So I started reading biographies of actors, singers, and artists. They all had this incredible drive to throw themselves, heart and soul, into the unknown. That’s you, baby, and as much as it scares me, it awes me too. ”
Tears fell from both of them, but they pretended they didn’t. Hunter sat up and moved over, and Catherine pulled her thin legs up on the bed too and wrapped an arm around her son’s shoulders. “Thank you for trying to learn about me and not trying to change me.”
“Honey, you gotta be who you gotta be, and I gotta find a way to make sure you find you as safely and happily as possible,” she said softly as she smoothed his hair again.
“I have a friend whose parents wanted him to be like them, and he isn’t, and they basically just let him go, emotionally and physically,” Hunter explained. “And it made me appreciate you even more.”
“What was he like that they didn’t approve of him?”
“He was artistic instead of sporty. He was gay instead of straight.”
“You have gay friends?” she asked and sounded a little more shocked than Hunter would have liked.
“Yeah, Mom. It’s Hollywood, and it’s also not 1940,” Hunter said with a chuckle in his voice.
She laughed too, but it sounded like it kind of hurt.
She inhaled sharply. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that to be the way it sounded.
For the record, if you’d been gay, I would have just read up on that and figured out how best to support you.
But I would have worried too because people can be such assholes about that.
And I don’t ever want people to hurt you, Hunter.
Or deny you a job. Or refuse to make your wedding cake or whatever. ”
Hunter turned his head and kissed her cheek. “I love you, and I’m fine. I’ll always be okay. Because you made me resilient, Mom.”
She sniffed. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”
“I wish you didn’t, too.”
“Take care of your dad. He’s the love of my life.” She sighed. “Cheating bastard but the love of my life.”
She laughed. Hunter did too because he’d learned that you couldn’t stop yourself from loving someone, even if you should. And then Manuel sauntered in through the cracked door and curled up at her feet as she dozed next to her son.
Hunter never told her he was bisexual because he decided that it didn’t matter.
She’d said she would still love and support him if he was gay, but she’d also said she would worry.
And he didn’t want her to worry in her final moments.
And when those moments came, after she took the medication the doctor supplied, it was so peaceful it was almost beautiful. Except for his heart breaking.
The morning of the funeral, Hunter had a massive anxiety attack.
The reality of it was crushing. She was gone.
Forever. He had to stand up in front of everyone and admit that, and that seemed like the most overwhelmingly impossible feat in the world.
So he knelt in his fancy suit and puked into the toilet while his father stared at his coffee in the kitchen without drinking it. “You okay?”
“No, but I’ll deal,” Hunter had called back as he reached for toilet paper to wipe his mouth.
He got up and brushed his teeth as the doorbell rang. As he was spitting and trying not to gag, he decided he might have to ask his dad to give the eulogy because now he was hearing things. Colby’s voice.
He dropped his toothbrush into the holder and stepped into the hall. There, on the front stoop, visible through the door Greg Law was holding open, dressed in a pair of charcoal dress pants and a matching button-down with the sleeves rolled up, was Colby Keaton.
“I don’t want to intrude. I just—” His words stopped the moment Hunter threw himself into Colby’s arms.
“Thank you.” Hunter sobbed into his shoulder.
“I got you,” Colby whispered as he moved over the threshold, essentially dragging Hunter with him.
The funeral was hell, but Hunter’s eulogy was beautiful, and he got through it only because he kept his eyes focused on Colby at the very back of the church.
Afterward, people gathered at Baton Rouge near her apartment.
Hunter had rented out the entire thing, and although he had less than zero of an appetite, he took comfort in watching everyone eat her favorite foods.
Colby stayed until the last guest left, and then he walked over to where Hunter was thanking the restaurant manager.
When he was done, Colby said, “Can I do anything?”
“You’ve done everything.”
Colby smiled. It was dimple-free because it was sad. His hands were tucked into the front pockets of his pants, but it looked like he was straining to keep them there. “I’m staying at that same hotel I was at when we toured. If you need anything or want—”
“I need you to come home with me.”
Colby’s eyes, which had taken on more gray than blue thanks to his outfit choice and probably the somberness of the day, widened. “To your mom’s place?”
“Yeah. Dad and I are staying there,” Hunter explained.
“It’s mine now. She owned it. But I’ve signed the executor of the will over to him, and I’m putting the place in his name when everything is sorted.
His ex really took him to the cleaners, and I’m worried he won’t be able to retire.
I mean she even gets half his pension when he gets one. ”
Colby nodded, letting Hunter babble about this even though none of it mattered. Hunter knew Colby’s reaction was about the offer. “So you want me to go there now? With you and your dad?”
“And the cat. Manuel. He’s mine now too. Do you like cats?”
“I don’t mind them.”
“He needs to be walked.”
Colby quirked his head like he didn’t hear Hunter properly. “Walked? Like a dog?”
“Yeah. Mom decided to do that, and he loves it so… I’m gonna have to walk a cat on a leash in West Hollywood,” Hunter told him.
Colby shrugged. “I’ve seen weirder things in West Hollywood.”
“Me too,” Hunter agreed. “But I’m sure the gossip sites like Dos Yo will love it.”
Dos Yo was a particularly brutal gossip site that seemed to go out of its way to post the most unflattering candids of celebrities.
They’d once posted a photo of Colby adjusting his nut sack as he pumped gas.
And a photo of Hunter scratching his nose, but the angle made it look like he was picking it if you didn’t zoom in.
“So can you come by?” Hunter asked, and he sounded casual, like it didn’t really matter either way, but the look in his eyes was desperate and sad and so fucking vulnerable, and he knew it. He just couldn’t hide anymore. Not today anyway.
“What about your dad?” Colby asked. “Will he be okay with it?”
“Yeah.”
“Does he…”
“He doesn’t, but he’s going to find out,” Hunter answered the question Colby never fully asked. “He won’t care. He might not even notice because he’s kind of a mess.”
Colby nodded. “If you want me to come home with you, I’ll come home with you.”
Greg Law didn’t even blink when Colby got into the back seat of his car and came back to the apartment with them.
Hunter and Greg spent a couple of hours going through Catherine’s scrapbooks from when Hunter was small and telling stories to Colby.
They laughed more than they cried, and Hunter thought she would have approved of that.
By 9:30p.m., Greg looked exhausted and told them he would try to rest. He disappeared into the bedroom, and Hunter and Colby took Manuel on a walk around the block.
Colby couldn’t stop giggling at how ridiculous it was, but the cat seemed to absolutely love it.
The residential Westmount street was quiet, and nobody noticed them.
The few people who walked by were focused on the black and white fur ball on the red leash.
Hunter wondered how different it would be if they were walking together down a street in LA.
Why did it have to be like this? Would it really cost him roles?
His career? Colby’s chance at solo success or future sales for Tidal?
When they got back to the apartment, Colby stopped at the foot of the stairs that led up to Catherine’s apartment. “I should go?”
It was a question, even though they both knew the answer was yes.
Colby should leave and go back to his hotel room.
Alone. Hunter stared at him. When he looked at Colby, he didn’t want to cry.
His heart still felt like it was in a million pieces, but it also felt like, when Colby was near, those pieces were being carefully held, not lying scattered around his cold, dark insides. “Stay.”
Colby nodded and followed Hunter, who was following Manuel, up the stairs.