Page 119 of Seeing Grayscale

“Why did you leave? Two phone calls a year? And then you just came back like it never happened. Like I wasn’t irrevocably damaged?” My voice cracks, and I hate that it does.

“You’re not the only one burdened by secrets, honey,” she says grimly. “Let’s sit.”

We walk over to a park bench, and my hands shake, so I slide them into my pockets. Sitting like this is uncomfortable, especially in these slacks, but I don’t want to be any more vulnerable than I already am. She fusses with her coat for a few seconds, probably gathering her thoughts. I don’t know. I barely know her anymore—just the shell she’s become.

Part of me wants to pry into what she said, that I’m not the only one burdened by secrets.

But she starts talking before I can.

“The truth is, I wanted to take you with me. But your father wouldn’t allow it.” I sit there, quiet as a mouse, and hang on her every word. My dad never told me that she wanted me with her, only that she left without me. “He was already starting to work on his campaign, and while he did, the group of men he got involved with started to really prey on his need to please. Did you know that before this endeavor, your dad never went to church?”

“No,” I whisper, desperate for more.

“He claimed to be Christian when we met, but it was mostly the said ‘Hail Mary’ when we drove by a church type of Christian. When he started attending, I didn’t want him to take you. We…fought about it often.”

Explains why I’ve never set foot in one other than when my grandparents died. “You seemed so happy, though.”

“Oh, we were. But power changes people. And unfortunately, as strong as a man he was, he wasn’t immune to that corruption. He became engrossed with religion, impressing his new colleagues, and obsessing over imperfections. I thought it was admirable, and he would promise me everything.”

“Because you weren’t well off as a kid, right?” I remember her telling me to always be thankful for what we have because not everyone does.

“My parents were dirt poor, sweetie. And I never really saw myself as being a kept woman, but that’s how it went when I met Ed.”

“So what happened? How come Dad didn’t let me go with you?” As much as I want the entire story, Gray is alone at the summer house, and I do have to get back within a reasonable time. “How come you never told me?”

“I’m getting to that,” she says gently. “When you were almost 13, I found out I was pregnant. It wasn’t something obvious to me, not like with you, so sick I couldn’t leave the restroom.” She chuckles fondly. “So it was some time before I even realized.”

A sour taste overtakes my mouth as my stomach knots uncomfortably.

“I was thirty-eight, and there I was, pregnant. At first, I didn’t tell your father. I went to the doctor alone. It was an ectopic pregnancy. That’s when an egg is—”

“I know what it means.”

She nods. “Well, the pregnancy needed to be terminated.”

“Mom…”

“I made the appointment to do it, and went home and told Ed. He insisted my doctor had it all wrong, refused to allow me tomurder his unborn child, and I saw the writing on the wall even then. But I entertained his demands. We got a second andthird opinion, which resulted in the same. There wasno waythe pregnancy could go full-term. I’d die. You’d be without a mother.”

I grab her hand. It feels like the right thing to do.

“We had the procedure done, and from there, our marriage fell apart. He resented me, blamed me, and said it was my fault that I got pregnant. By then, he was focused on our reputation, not wanting the media to know his wife had anabortion, even though it was medically necessary. We argued whenever you were at school. We argued at night and…I couldn’t take it. I started drinking more. Because I knew this wasn’t Ed screaming at me every day. I knew it wasn’t really him, but the people he surrounded himself with.”

“So you left? Just like that? Without telling me?”

I can understand her situation, and it hurts me to know my dad treated her like shit over something that wasn’t her fault. But still. I was thirteen. I would’ve understood.

“It was the stipulation. I left without you or stayed and became a better wife. He said being with him was a package deal. I had all of it or none of it.”

“And you agreed?” I snap. “You fucking agreed?”

“He wanted me to get pregnant again! Hunter, I was almost forty! I didn’t want to have another baby. All I wanted was the man I married to come back. And he was gone. Do you remember when I kept you home from school and we went to the airport? You thought it was to go look at the planes. I was trying toleavewith you.”

“Why didn’t you? We could’ve left together.”

She shakes her head, staring out into the distance. “I didn’t want to traumatize you. You loved him so much.”

I shoot to my feet, my hands flying to the top of my head as I glare at her in disbelief. “You did traumatize me, Mom! Youdid! When you left without a word and didn’t come back for five fucking years! How could you? How could youleave me?”

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