Dr. Du Maurier,
I had to keep my real surname a secret for reasons I know you would understand. It is flattering that you have gone through lengths to contact me, with a proposition nonetheless.
Abiel
This was the first email I sent her. This also led to a correspondence that somehow had me bidding Chiyoh farewell and catching a flight to Maryland, USA.
Dr. Bedelia Du Maurier offered to financially support my college education if I wished to study in the United States. I agreed without hesitation. When Chiyoh told me that I am part of a family of murderers, I was caught up in the idea of breaking the pattern. I immersed myself in all sorts of crime stories and came to admire those who sided with the law. I formed an interest in forensics, but somehow, I also found myself enamoured with the science of the mind. I did not know of my parents' backgrounds then, and yet the field of psychology had me fixated.
I was nineteen years old when I began studying Forensic Psychology in a university in Maryland. Though I still used the same surname that I used in Lithuania, I was ever wary of my own presence in the same place where my fathers used to live. I wore tinted eyeglasses although my eyes were perfectly fine, I seldom made eye contact with anybody, I grew a beard and never cut my hair, I slouched and rarely lifted up my head to look at people or look around me. To the people who knew me in the university, I was just an inhibited, introverted and withdrawn foreign student. They never saw who I really am. When I am alone in my room, I would face the mirror, return to my normal posture, remove my glasses and smile slightly. Looking at my reflection was a constant reminder that I am the son of Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter. I had the shape of Hannibal Lecter's face, his eyes and his lips, but the colour of my eyes were as blue as Will Graham's and my nose and curly brown hair were undoubtedly his. When she first saw me, Dr. Bedelia Du Maurier remarked that I looked like both my fathers. Whether she meant to alarm me or not, I cannot tell.
I kept thinking of Chiyoh all the time. She was right, maybe I was better off without knowing about my parents. If I had to always hide my identity in the United States, maybe I should have remained in Lithuania. However, Chiyoh had also pointed out that I have my fathers' tenacity. Hiding that I am their child was not synonymous to hating that fact. Accepting my godmother's offer was not entirely due to the prospect of furthering my studies. I had also hoped to meet my parents or even just catch a glimpse of them.
It was on my first Christmas Eve in the United States that I found out I was not ready to face my parents yet. I was staying with my godmother for the holidays that time. We were sitting in her living room, blanketed by a companionable silence. Dr. Du Maurier was reading the numerous greeting cards she received as I was sipping a glass of whiskey.
"Your father never fails to send me greeting cards on holidays." She said, reading one that has the elegant penmanship of Dr. Lecter. When she was done, her fine brows furrowed upon seeing the next card in the bundle. "Hm," she hummed with curiosity. "Here's one for you too."
I was handed a pristine white envelope with 'Abiel Graham-Lecter' written on it in a handwriting that eerily reminded me of the formerly grandiose Castle Lecter. My hands turned cold as ice once I touched that envelope, and I did not immediately find the will to open it. I just sat there nervously holding the first greeting card I received from my father. As I stared at the name written on it, my mind went utterly blank and I felt the color drain from my face. I sat thus for a while, until my godmother spoke.
"Are you alright, Abiel?" She asked.
Sighing, I came back to my senses. I tucked the envelope into the pocket of my jacket and leaned back, casting my eyes at the ceiling. "I will read it when I'm ready," was all I could say although I doubted I could ever be.
Silence prevailed once more in the living room as my godmother returned to her greeting cards. I emptied my glass in one gulp and stood up to pour myself more.
"Here's another one." She said just as I was returning to my seat. "From your other father."
I took the card from her and smirked, but I did not dare to look at it. As quickly as I could, I stuffed the card into my pocket to join the other one. "I won't be surprised if he included a picture of his happy family." I said as I made myself comfortable on my seat.
"Will Graham has been divorced for fourteen years now." My godmother said, nonchalantly scanning the rest of the cards she received.
All I could do was sigh and watch the whiskey form a whirlpool as I twirled the glass in my hand.
We sat there for a long while before she broke the silence. "To normal people, it would seem that your fathers have twisted emotions. But one thing is for sure, Abiel, they did love you."
Hearing this, I turned to her with a gaze of confusion and slight contradiction.
"Will knew better than to have children of his own, but Hannibal somehow convinced him. While they waited for you, Will was still very much against the idea. Hannibal, on the other hand, never even tried to hide his excitement."
I scoffed. A criminally insane couple fathering a child they would not raise anyway was such a hilarious idea.
"You may doubt me, Abiel, but I saw them with you when you were an infant. They were the happiest I have ever seen of them. They tried their best to put up with such an uncanny arrangement, but it just did not work."
"This makes me feel like an experiment—a case study on whether Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham can raise a child without killing it." I said, drinking the whiskey.
Bedelia Du Maurier smiled at me with patience. "They never thought of death whenever they looked at you."