Chapter 3: Noah

There was a note scribbled on the back of the photo the boy had brought with him, though I’d only noticed it later. I read through it again—likely for the hundredth time—but it was still too unreal for me to fully accept it.

Noah Hayes, this is your son, Chris Hudson. Yes, Brianne wanted him to keep her name, just as she never wanted you to know about the boy. I didn’t understand why she decided this at the time, but we all know how unreasonable she could get. Before she was able to tell me why, she unfortunately passed away in a car accident a mere week after giving birth. I suppose I was just trying to honor her wishes for as long as I could by not contacting you until now.

I’ve been caring for Chris ever since, but I am sick, and the doctor says I don’t have long anymore. I’m to book myself in at a hospice for my final days and didn’t want Chris’s last memory of me to be on my deathbed. Please take care of him. He’s your son, after all.  

Judy Hudson

Just like that? The old lady thought it was a good idea to inform me of these major life-changing events in this way.

Just, boom! Here’s a kid, a picture, and a note. You figure it out from here.

I felt like I was losing my sanity just thinking about the absurdity of it all.

I’d canceled all my meetings for the day and brought Chris back home with me to try to figure things out. But the problem was, I had no fucking clue what it was that I needed to do now!

As I was busy silently freaking out, I felt eyes watching me closely.

Chris was sitting on a barstool across from me at the island separating the kitchen from the dining area. He was swinging his legs and looking at me as if I was supposed to have all the answers. But every time I would look directly at him, he’d either frown or look away.

The air in the kitchen hung heavy with anticipation, and I realized I’d been fidgeting with my coffee mug this whole time without taking a single sip from it. Chris hadn't touched his apple juice either.

Maybe both of us need something stronger, I thought to myself, and laughed at the mental image of me being arrested for getting a five-year-old drunk.

The awkwardness between us was becoming unbearable. And it didn’t help that the damned teddy bear on the boy’s lap kept eying me in a creepy and condemnatory way.

I was just about to start pulling my hair out when Silvia, my housekeeper, came down from upstairs. “The boy’s room is ready for tonight—it’s the one across from yours—but I suggest you go take him to choose bedding he’ll like because even I don’t like the plain white,” she said, smiling at Chris and giving him a wink. Like he’d done to me excessively already, he frowned at her in reply, but she ignored it. “Then there’s the matter of clothes. He only came with a backpack with three pairs of pants and undies, and only four shirts. So since you two are just sitting here and getting nowhere, why don’t you go for a shopping spree!”

Silvia’s excitement sounded forced as she threw her arms out wide and waited for us to respond with the same level of enthusiasm. After a few seconds where both Chris and I didn’t so much as crack a smile, she dropped her arms to her sides and sighed in defeat.

“And you’re still wondering how he could be your son?” she said with a snort. “Since you’re new to this, take it from me; a combination of a new toy or two and ice cream works wonders on kids, so be sure to throw that in there after buying him clothes and things for his room.”

She gave me another lingering look, as if she wanted to add something, but decided against it as she grunted and walked away.

I stared at her back until she turned the corner to go finish cleaning my study, partly in awe of how she always seemed to treat me like an idiot child of hers instead of her employer—which for some reason never made me want to fire her—and partly wanting something else to focus on while I tried to find a way to deal with all this.

It was a good idea to go shopping with him. Both to get what he needed and to try and bond somehow, but there was one problem; I couldn’t be seen in public with a child after that whole media debacle with Cassie—much less with one that looked like the five-year-old version of myself.

“I like ice cream very much,” Chris said, pulling my attention back to him. He sounded a bit uncertain and was looking at me shyly, but clearly, he’d picked up on what Silvia had said. “And I like Spiderman and Batman.”

And just like that, all my doubts faded. I ran up to my room to get dressed more casually, donned my big dark sunglasses and a low-sitting cap—the best disguise I could come up with—and returned to the kitchen feeling energized and excited.

“Ready to go shopping?” I asked as he jumped down from the barstool, forgetting his teddy on top of the island counter—to which I said nothing. I was going to get him an even better toy, and maybe he knew that, too.

“Yeah!” 

His answering smile was so unexpectedly bright all of a sudden, that my heart and stomach felt like they were doing circus tricks inside of me.