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My dumbfounded expression must have said it all. “Brother?” I repeated.
“Um, yeah? Well, half-brother if you’re getting technical. Although, most of the time, he’s more like my dad,” she explained.
As soon as the words left her lips, I realized that answer had been staring me in the face. On the surface, Violet’s dark skin and natural hair were as different from Gray’s light brown locks and blue eyes as possible. But, once you looked past the obvious differences, the similarities weren’t hard to spot. Violet’s towering height for her age, her lopsided smile and dimple combination, and their shared overall facial structure were the undeniable signs of their shared DNA.
“I didn’t know Gray had a sister. The last time I saw him was the summer after high school, and he certainly didn’t mention any siblings. You don’t look that young?” I left the question hanging in the air.
“I’m not that young. I’m almost twelve,” she admitted, avoiding eye contact as her cheeks flushed crimson. “I’ve lived with Gray since I was four, and my parents died.”
My vision blurred as the final puzzle piece fell into place. I needed to sit down.
Fuck.
Gray hadn’t ended things because he felt he was too young to be tied down. He did it because his dad had died, leaving him to raise his baby sister.
And he never told me.
∞∞∞
I found myself sitting there for an indeterminate amount of time, staring at Violet through a blur of tears. My silence must have been freaking her out, but every time I attempted to speak, to shake off this stupor, ended in my mouth hanging open but no sound emerging.
Too many questions. Too many questions overwhelmed me, leaving me paralyzed and unable to even begin this conversation. Then the doubt crept in ,making me question whether talking to Violet was even wise. Her surprise at learning Gray knew me suggested he had never mentioned me. What if he had kept my existence a secret? Would Gray have hidden that fact he was married from his own sister? The Gray I knew wouldn’t have, but I had to remind myself that the person I remembered was long gone.
I decided to keep my mouth shut. Unloading years of emotional baggage on a child caught in the middle would be unfair, as well as unlikely to quell the storm raging in my mind. Especially now, with her brother/dad in the midst of a potentially life-altering surgery. And come to think of it, especially not when I’m technically meant to be responsible for her right now. Shit, is that what happens if Gray doesn’t make it? Am I expected to take in a twice-orphaned teenager? I can’t be a parent. I shouldn’t be around kids, as evidenced by how close I am to dumping my trauma onto this poor girl.
Wait. I bet that’s why Gray left me. He thought I’d bail when I found out about the whole kid situation, so he beat me to the punch.
Shit.
Fuck.
Am I the architect of my own misery? Did I inadvertently drive Gray away, making him believe he wouldn’t have my support, leaving him to face the worst ordeal of his life alone?
Have I spent the past seven years resenting him for my own actions?
But that doesn’t explain why he lied to me, why he broke every promise he’d ever made. It doesn’t explain why he sought comfort in someone else’s arms less than two months after ending things.
And why, in the almost decade since this all unfolded, hasn’t he attempted to reach out and offer an explanation? I could understand his need for space while grappling with his new reality. I wasn’t well-versed in the art of parenthood. In fact, I’d wager any notions I had of it were far from ideal. Everything I knew about Gray suggested he’d prioritize raising his little sister, even at the expense of his own happiness. I understood. Yet, as I gazed at the seemingly well-adjusted young woman before me, it was hard to fathom that there hadn’t been a single moment in all this time when Gray considered putting himself first. Reaching out to me. Reigniting what we once had.
Who was I kidding? He left me. Even if it hadn’t been his first choice, it seemed ridiculous to cling to the hope that he had patiently awaited my return all these years. I had to remind myself that my brand of obsession and loyalty to my first love was unique to me. Just because Gray’s significant other hadn’t materialized at the hospital yet, didn’t mean one didn’t exist. The chance Gray was even still single seemed slim.
“So, you’re married to my brother?” Violet’s small voice broke the silence, altering her pitch in an attempt to make her question seem innocent.
“Nice try kid, but I’m not touching that one,” I responded with finality. “If Gray wanted you to know that he knew me, then he would have told you. As complicated as things are between us, I’m not going to snitch on him. So, how about you fill me in on everything I’ve missed in Gray’s life since we graduated high school?”
“Fine,” Violet huffed, punctuating her answer with a slight eye roll. “Not that there’s much to tell. As much as I love him, my brother is completely boring and doesn’t have a life outside of work and nagging, oops! Uh, I mean parenting me.”
I shouldn’t have felt relief at her words, but I did. Don’t get your hopes up, don’t get your hopes up. With feigned nonchalance, I asked my next question, “So, no girlfriend?”
I wanted to add “or boyfriend,” but again, I didn’t know how much she really knew about Gray’s personal life, and wasn’t my place to drop that kind of bomb.
“Why do you wanna know?” Her dimpled smile betrayed a level of insight beyond her years, or perhaps I wasn’t as subtle as I hoped. Likely the second option.
“Ah, just curious if there’s someone else I need to keep updated,” I lied.
“Mmm-hmm. Sure. But no, there’s no girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Gray goes on casual dates here and there, but I’ve never seen him get serious about anyone. He’s still too hung up on his husband,” she added in a sing-song tone. “And whenever I bug him about who his mystery man is, which is often, he gets all cagey and changes the subject.”
I didn’t know what to make of that. The fact that she knew Gray had a husband, but not that said husband was me, made absolutely no sense. And her assertion that he was still hung up on me was likely an exaggeration, colored by youthful romanticized notions of marriage and soulmates. Probably more wishful thinking than anything based on reality.
