Hired by the Father I Hate

I stopped listening and walked away faster.

The moment I stepped out the door, I ran straight into Edgar.

Just like before, I acted as if I hadn't seen him and didn't slow down at all.

He suddenly seized my wrist and said in a displeased tone, "Claude, is this how your grandma raised you? Don't you even have the decency to greet your own father when you see him?"

He stopped mid-sentence, cut short by the loathing in my eyes.

His face darkened. "Claude, what's with the attitude?"

Attitude? Me?

I didn't understand how he could bring up Grandma so righteously after what he had done.

I wrenched my hand free from his grip and said coldly, "You have no right to bring up Grandma!"

I turned and walked away.

Behind me came Edgar's furious voice. "You little punk! She was my mother—I'll bring her up all I want!"

A whole week went by, and I still wasn't able to find a job. Thus, I had no choice but to buy a ticket home first.

After arriving home, I took some fruits and went to visit Grandma's old friends at the nearby nursing home.

I sat in the garden and chatted with them for a long while.

Then, someone brought up Edgar's name, and the atmosphere suddenly froze.

After a long pause, Laurie Guthrie said hesitantly, "Your father actually called here a few days ago asking what you've been up to lately. I just told him you'd gone to the capital, Pemberton, to look for work."

Beside her, Melvin Hickman rapped his cane hard against the ground.

"What's the point of telling that bastard so much? Claude is outstanding enough without needing to rely on him!"

Ms. Guthrie tugged at his sleeve, but he only grew more worked up.

"Did I say anything wrong? Trudy raised him like her own son, and how did he repay her? All those years, he couldn't even be bothered to call her once. Did he ever lift a finger in raising Claude?

"And now, all of a sudden, he remembers he's got a son? Well, it's a little late for that. Real shrewd, that one."

Mr. Hickman pressed a big orange into my hand as he spoke. "Claude, eat up! I've got everything here. We don't need his stinky money."

I took a bite. The juice burst in my mouth—it was a little sour.

Actually, Mr. Hickman was right. Edgar really was very clever.

Growing up, he was always top of his class.

In middle school, he even started a little side business at school reselling comic books, just to buy himself a pricey watch.

In high school, a teacher even paid Grandma a visit to suggest that Edgar attend a summer program at Pemberton College.

Back then, Grandma looked at Edgar with nothing but pride in her eyes.

That was, until he was brought down by a woman—twice.

And she was none other than my mother, Dawn Fuller.

When she cheated on him with another man, she was already six months pregnant with me.

Edgar came back to Grandma's house and refused to eat or drink for days on end.

One day, Grandma made a bowl of soup and took it over.

"Edgar, don't starve yourself. Please just have a sip," she said coaxingly.

Edgar stared at that bowl of chicken soup, his eyes suddenly reddening.

"Do you know what Dawn said to me when we split up? She said my family was too poor and that I wasn't good enough for their high-society circle. She asked me, 'Your mother's just some lowly farmer—what makes you think you're worthy of being with me?'"

Grandma froze. It took a long while before she found her voice again.

"Edgar, let's not talk about people like—"

"Sometimes I wonder too—why did it have to be you?"

Edgar's eyes were downcast. He didn't look at Grandma, so naturally, he didn't see that her hands were trembling.

"If you're so poor, how did you have the money to adopt me? Don't you feel any guilt at all for making a child suffer alongside you?"

The bowl shattered on the floor with a crash, chicken soup splashing all over Grandma.

She looked at him as if he were a complete stranger, unable to utter a single word.

Afterward, Grandma sat alone in the living room for a very long time. Only when the sky began to lighten at dawn did she finally rise from the chair and shuffle over to make breakfast for Edgar.

No one ever brought up that day again, and it seemed as if the matter had simply passed.

Only Grandma knew that those words were like a thorn stuck in her throat. She could neither swallow them nor spit them out.

Once I was a bit older, Edgar left to find work elsewhere.