“Okay, sure,” I say with a grin, “but only if you do the same.”
Penn shrugs. “Agreed, but you go first.”
Just then, the server arrives back at our table with our first couple of dishes, but a moment after we dig in, Penn’s on the case again.
“So, come on. Tell me about your childhood.” He grabs a chunk of shrimp tempura roll and shoves it into his mouth.
“Okay. Well, I grew up in Vancouver, BC, as you know. No siblings. My mom passed away from cancer when I was eight, so I was raised by my grandparents.”
I look up to see a look of horror on his face. “Oh my god, Hunter, I never realized your mom died when you were little. I’m so sorry. How awful for you.” One of his hands has flown up to cover his heart, like he’s trying to shield it from the knowledge of my painful childhood experiences.
“Thank you. It was a long time ago though, and my grandparents loved the hell out of me.”
“Still, that’s so hard for a kid,” he says, taking a sip from his drink. “Was your dad around?”
I shake my head, popping a piece of California roll into my mouth. “Nope. Never knew him. The story is that my grandparents didn’t approve of their relationship. My mom was too young, and she ran off with him when my grandparents tried to force them apart. Same old story though, she got knocked up, and my father took off. Mom was so damn stubborn, she didn’t even let her parents know she had a kid. Did the whole single mother thing all by herself, and honestly, she did a pretty good job until she got sick. When she got diagnosed with cancer, she reached out to them, and they welcomed us back into their home and their hearts with open arms.”
“So, you didn’t evenknowyour grandparents until you were eight years old? And then you lived with them after your mom passed?” His shocked expression has morphed into one of sympathy.
I nod. “Yeah. But we lived with them for the last year of her life, so it wasn’t like I had to go and live with strangers or anything.”
He shakes his head. “That’s a lot for a kid to deal with. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Hunter.” Penn’s eyes are glassy, and he reaches across the table, grabbing my hand in his smaller one. It's a sweet gesture, and my stomach flips as an emotion I can't identify settles into my gut.
I swallow hard. Over the years, I’ve learned how to detach when telling my story. It’s just easier that way. But Penn’s genuine reaction cuts through my indifference, and for the first time in a very long time, I allow myself to remember what it was like to be that scared little kid.
I squeeze his hand. “Thanks, Penn. I appreciate it. “I was lucky though, overall. My grandparents adored me. They were amazing, both before and after my mom died.”
Penn smiles gently and pulls his hand back. I miss the connection as soon as he lets go, and I have to quell the urge to chase his hand with my own.
“I’m glad you had them,” he says.
“Me too. They did so much for me. They had this tiny little house in a part of town that was working-class when they bought it a few decades earlier, but as the city grew, the area gentrified and got crazy expensive. They stayed in that house so I could go to the best public schools in the city, even though they could have easily sold and moved to a smaller town and enjoyed a comfortable retirement. They made a lot of sacrifices for me.”
“They were good people,” Penn says.
“Yeah. They were the best." I swallow hard, remembering my slightly rough around the edges grandparents. "They were British, raised in working class neighborhoods in London. Came to Canada right after they got married because they wanted their children to have more opportunities. They only had the one kid, my mom, and when she passed at such a young age, they had a lot of regrets about the time they lost with her. So they made damn sure to never make that mistake again." I pause, taking a sip from my wine. "They always made it very clear there was nothing I could do that would push them away, so it made my coming out experience pretty easy, compared to a lot of people."
"What were they like when you told them?" Penn asks, his smile warm.
I chuckle. "They didn’t give one single shit, even though that wasn’t their culture at all. All they did was tell me how much they loved me and how nothing could ever make them love me less. They were great parents, even though they never planned on raising another kid so late in their lives.” I sniffle, working to swallow the lump in my throat as I think about my rough-and-tumble Granddad and my stern but sassy, funny Gran.
Penn gives me a sweet smile from across the table, and I shake my head, trying to clear all the emotion that’s suddenly swirling around in there.
"Okay, your turn," I say a moment later, ready to be finished with these heavy emotions.
Chapter seven
Penn
Ican’t believe I didn’t know Hunter lost his mom when he was so young. I mean, I know we’re not close, but that seems like a thing you’d know about someone you’ve hung around with forliterallyyears. It makes me feel shitty because I could tell you the backgrounds of all my other friends, but for whatever reason, Hunter and I have always been like ships passing in the night. Close to each other but never really seeing the other one. When he told me about his mom dying, I wanted to gather him up into a huge hug and never let him go. What a horrible thing for a kid to go through. My family wasn’t perfect, but I’m glad I had them when I was growing up.
After taking another bite of sushi, Hunter makes a rolling “come on, let’s go” gesture with his chopsticks.
“I spilled my origin story. Don’t keep me waiting. Pretty much the only thing I know about you is that you’re from Texas.” He grins, and I love how he seems to smile with his entire being. For someone who’s usually so serious, he has an incredible smile.
“Okay,” I say, prepared to spit out my usual pat answer for whenever anyone asks me about my family. But for some reason, I find myself telling Hunter more details than normal.
“Yeah, I grew up in Texas. My family’s been there for generations.” I let the remnants of my Texan accent color my speech as I talk. Normally, I’m so good at hiding it; most people can’t believe I’m from Texas when I tell them.
