May 23, 2039
It had been another typical Monday night at the Anderson house. After chores, homework, and dinner were all finished, Connor and Cole disappeared into their room to play video games. Sometimes Hank would take this time to just relax on his own or to catch up on some work, but something was weighing on his mind and he found he couldn't focus on doing either.
Hank put his ear up to Connor's and Cole's bedroom door. He could hear the clacking and gunfire of the boys playing their new game. It was some sort of first person multiplayer shooter based on World War Two, that Cole had sworn was practically educational in how historically accurate it was. He imagined Cole would be splayed out in some odd position across his messy bed, while Connor was probably sitting cross legged on his perfectly made one.
Hank was glad that despite their many differences, his two boys still got along so well. They truly acted like brothers despite only knowing each other for about half a year. Hank only wished he had dragged Connor out of that hospital that first night they met.
"Connor, what are you doing?" Cole exclaimed. "Connor, get out of the tank!"
"You're not my dad," Connor hastily retorted.
"Connor, get out of the goddamn tank!"
"I'm in a tank and you're not."
The boy's banter turned into incomprehensible bickering. Hank's good parenting instincts were advising him to tell the two of them to knock it off, but instead he took advantage of their distracted state and snuck away to his room. After he shut the door behind him he let out a sigh he had been holding in all night. He hated keeping things from his boys, it made him feel like such a slimeball.
He opened his closet and reached up to the top shelf. Buried in a box of useless papers was a small black address book that was older than Cole, and looked it. He sat down on his bed and opened to the first page, the stiff pages crinkling as he tried to hold them down. The number he wanted was the very first one on the top of the page. He squinted down at the name and number in the low light of the lamp on his nightstand. His hands trembled as he typed in the number. As it rang the anxiety had him running his hands through his hair and clenching his jaw.
"Hello?" Her voice sounded so different then it did twenty years ago, yet somehow he had no doubt it was her. Hank tried to respond but all his words left him at that moment. "Hello?" she asked again.
"Hi Mom, it's um, it's Henry," he managed to choke out.
"Henry?" She gasped in amazement. "My god, it's been so long. How are you?"
"I'm good," he answered honestly. Sure, there had been plenty of times in the last twenty-something years where he was not so good, but lately his life had been going as well as it could ever be. He had a great family, a job he loved, and he was sober. He felt like the man he was meant to be. "I'm doing really good. I was just-"
"Who's that?" A man's voice rang through the phone. Every muscle in Hank tightened at the discourteous sound of his voice. Hank had hoped he was calling late enough that he'd be at the bar. His free hand gripped at the edge of his bed, as if he were worried that he'd get up and run away if he didn't.
"It's Henry," she answered excitedly.
"Henry Michels?" the voice questioned.
"No. Henry, your son," she said, in a familiar condescending tone.
"What? Let me talk to him," and before Hank could protest he heard the rustling of the two of them fighting over the phone. "Damn it woman, give me that. Henry?"
Hank had to fight back the urge to call him Peter. "Hi Dad."
He had worked up the nerve to talk to his mother, but his father was a different matter entirely. The worst his mother ever did was not stand up for him or try to stop him when he walked out on the family. With time he stopped blaming her for that, he understood that was just the kind of woman she was. The kind that would always side with her husband even if it meant turning on her children.
His father, on the other hand, was guilty of so much more than that. He never accepted Hank's sexual orientation. He would often openly mock it by insisting that Hank had simply not met the right person yet, or that he would grow out of it someday, and that it just wasn't normal. Because of this his teen years were full of self-hate with no outlet. Who knows what would have happened to him if he had decided to stay any longer.
"How are you doing? You still on the force?" His father asked.
"Um, I was, for a while, but I run a private security group now."
"Oh yeah, that's great."
"Henry, are you still in Detroit?" His mother asked. Her voice sounded more distant so Hank assumed they just remembered how to use speakerphone. "We were worried about you during that whole android trouble."
Sure, but not worried enough to call me, he thought, but he's not here to start shit with them. "No need to worry, we were just fine."
There was a moment of silence before both his parents simultaneously asked. "We?"
"Yeah, that's why I called. I was thinking it's time we bury the hatchet. I just thought it would be nice...for my sons to meet their grandparents, and before you say anything I haven't changed, they're both adopted." He wasn't going to give them the chance to bust out their "I told you so" they'd been sitting on for over twenty years.
"Oh, honey that's… of course we'd love to meet them." His mother said.
They both started pummeling him with questions.
"What are their names? How old are they? Do they like sports?"
"Their names are Cole and Connor. I adopted Cole twelve years ago when his mother passed. He's smart as can be, and an amazing artist, he won a county wide competition last month." The certificate was still hanging on the fridge. "Connor's a…" he hesitated, unsure of whether to describe Connor as what he is, or who he is. "Connor's a recent addition to the family. He's just the most positive kid you'll ever meet. He can see the good in anything. You can't be in a bad mood when you're around him, it's physically impossible. He wants to be a doctor someday."
"They sound wonderful," his mother said fondly.
"When do they get out of school?" His father asked. "We could have an Anderson reunion up at the lake house just like old times. It could be your sister and her kids, Benjamin with his wife and daughter, Jonathan and his husband, and you and your boys."
"Yeah I think that'd be great. How about I call you again sometime next week and we can make some plans."
Nobody said 'I love you' when they hung up, and that's fine with Hank. He sighed as he gently tossed his phone to the other side of the bed. He wasn't sure if he felt relieved or not. There was a small part of him that just kind of hoped they'd would reject them and life could just go on like normal.
The last time he spoke to his parents was at his uncle's funeral. He had already been on the outs with them for years but his mother had convinced him to come back to the house for the reception. Things were almost pleasant for a bit, until he stepped outside for some air and found himself alone with his father.
How can you say you'll be happy like this? No wife, no children, no one to love you. Henry, having a family is the greatest thing that can happen to a man.
For the longest time those words really hurt him. Then after a while they didn't, because he had grown to not care what they thought. As long as he was happy with who he was, that was all that mattered to him. Then it began to hurt again when he realized that in some ways his father was right. Having a family was the greatest thing that had happened to him, but he managed to do that while staying true to who he was. In their own fucked up way his family did just want him to be happy, they just went about it in a way that made him feel invalade.
Am I ready to forgive them? Do they deserve it? Have they even changed at all? What if it's a mistake getting the boys involved with them?
He didn't get much time to dwell, as the sounds of muffled whispers coming from the other side of his door caught his attention. He stood up and walked over to the door, taking long, silent strides.
"I can't hear anything," Connor whispered.
"Shhhh…" Hank yanked his door open and Connor tumbled forward into the room as if he had been leaning on it. He held an empty glass to his ear, an idea he probably picked up from Cole, who was doing the same to the wall by the door. Hank folded his arms over his chest and attempted to give the little snoops a look of disappointment, but the sight of the two of them like this made it difficult not to smile. He couldn't be legitimately mad at them; after all, it was his fault for hiding things, something he specifically said he wouldn't do any more.
"Um-Umm..." Connor stammered, as his wide eyes darted between his father and brother. "It was Cole's idea." He turned on his heels and ran down the hallway for their room.
"Tattletale!" Cole shouted after him, only to get a slammed door in response. Cole managed to nail the not-mad-just-disappointed look like a professional dad. "I thought you said grandma and grandpa were assholes?"
That did sound like something he would say. "Not... they're not assholes. Sometimes when people don't understand things they can be hurtful without really meaning to."
"Well, if you're willing to give them a shot, then I guess I am too," the boy shrugged, and gave a half hearted smile,"but they owe me thirteen years of Christmas and birthday presents."
"Ha, maybe them and your aunt and uncles can pull together and get you a car."
"I have aunts and uncles?" he said, showing his elation in his wide eyes and smile. "Do I have any cousins?"
"Eah, probably?" he lied, knowing full well that his sister had two kids close to Cole's age.
"Well, don't just stand there, go call them." Cole tried to push him back into his room with all his adolescent strength, but Hank was an immovable wall.
"You're not my dad!"