Eyes on Iris

6. Imprinted Memories

Hunter curled his hands into fists and took another deep breath before heading to the left-wing. The carpeted floors, the paintings hanging on the wall, and the old pendulum clock looked like time had stopped. It was as if he had never gone for three long years.

Everything was the same from the day he left.

Framed photos of his father with his valued colleagues at work hung on the wall across the hallway. The people in the photographs were smiling brightly despite looking tired and rugged with muddy clothes. He remembered that some of those were being taken when they were having a barbecue party after a harvest. It was a fun day and a fond memory.

Hunter stood there in silence for a few seconds, reminiscing on those times he spent with his father and the farm and company employees. It was irreplaceable.

His dad had always been down-to-earth and never regarded rank as the basis of friendship. He would bring random office workers, even the building custodian, home for dinner. Sometimes, they would play football or tennis on a good day and would enjoy a few rounds of card games when the weather was cold and the ground was damp.

He was a good employer, friend, and a father.

“He really cherishes those people around him,” Hunter heard Doris speak knowingly. She was standing about three feet from where he was.

Hunter shrugged, not finding the words to answer because it was the truth. His father was a sentimental man and was never ashamed of showing it. And those photos were proof of it.

“He always made sure everyone was doing well,” Doris continued.

He does. Even when I walked out of here three years ago, he would still get his assistant to check on me. He never stopped being a father. He never did.

Hunter smiled bitterly. “He always did.”

Doris advanced toward him, then she squeezed his arm sympathetically. He could see the remorse in her eyes and there was no need for more words. Deep inside, they understood the sorrow the other was feeling.

Gulping hard, Hunter held Nana’s hand in his, saying, “I had no idea he was ill.”

He inwardly scoffed at his statement. How the hell could he possibly know when he cut off all their connections? He never answered or returned his father’s calls or even thought about visiting home. He never asked if he was eating well or if the cold weather was making his back ache.

He wanted to know how he had been faring all those times when he was gone. But there was no one to ask now. His father had already left him… forever—with no chance for apologies and reconciliation.

Time and death… They’re indeed ruthless thieves.

“Nobody knew, dear. He always tried his best to look happy and healthy. I should have noticed when he grew picky with his food,” Doris mumbled, her voice trembling. “I thought he was just being careful because he was no longer young. But…”

Hunter held his breath as he tightly clasped Doris’ hand. The remorse in her voice and grief in her eyes pierced him through the bone. His numb heart began to wrench in pain as he started blaming himself once more. If only he were there…

The fact that even his father’s closest aides were unable to distinguish the peculiarity and change in his habits was proof that Alexander Kingston II intended to suffer in silence and keep his disease a secret. He wanted to question why his old man pretended to be strong despite going through the pain. He was supposedly a man surrounded by loyal friends whom he could confide with! Why? Why had he never told his one and only son?

Because you’re away living your damned city life. You never bothered to check on him. How could he possibly tell you? mocked the voice in his head.

Hunter gritted his teeth. Indeed, he was busy growing up, finding what he wanted to do with life, falling in love, and making mistakes. He did not even notice his father was growing old and needed his presence and support, too.

“It was liver cancer, Hunter. He must have had a very tough time.”

Extending his arm, he reached out to embrace his Nana. As a person who had been serving his father’s daily needs, the guilt must have been killing her. He had no idea how to console her as he, too, was lost, wallowing in self-blame and regrets.

Rubbing the old woman’s back, Hunter mustered the courage to utter the first set of comforting words that had crossed his mind, saying, “Dad had his reasons for keeping it all to himself. He was brave until the end. Hush now, he wouldn’t like seeing you crying like this.”

It took a moment for Doris’ sobs to stop. Her eyes were swollen and her nose red when she lovingly stroked his cheek. He could detect the joy and pity in her stares, and he knew what they meant. She was glad he was back and distressed that it was all because of his dad’s passing.

“I should get going. I want to take a shower before going to the funeral.”

Doris closed her eyes, nodded in response, and squeezed Hunter’s shoulder one last time before leaving.

When she was out of sight, Hunter quickly went straight to his room, fighting the tears that welled his eyes. In the bathroom, he finally let them fall, allowing himself to break down like a child. With shaking shoulders, he cried hard and loud, concealing it with the noise coming from the shower.

That was the first time he had wept his heart out. Even as a child, he never shed a tear whenever he got wounds from playing. His father raised him to be a man and taught him to never display his weakness. His old man would say, ‘A man should be strong and dependable. Real men don’t cry, son.’

But at that moment, he could no longer keep the strong façade. He wanted to be weak – at least while he was alone. Because the moment he went out of that bathroom, he would be back as the grounded man he was known to be.

He must be.

By the time Hunter finished bathing, he had already calmed down. He had to keep his composure for the sake of the people in the mansion. If he broke down, no one would hold the place together.

This was his responsibility now – as his father’s one and only child.

Hunter studied his reflection in the mirror after slipping into the white polo Doris had prepared. His eyes were bloodshot but he couldn’t care less. Only someone as trivial and shallow as Cathy would bother to scrutinize a person’s physical appearance in the event that a relative has died.

He shook his head and put the thought aside. He should not waste time thinking about the b*tch. There would be more important things he has to face from now on.

Sighing, Hunter wore the diver’s watch his father gave him. It was a limited-edition Patek Philippe that he got along with a written agreement that the Kingston Ranch would be transferred in his name when he had his first child. As the memories started crashing down again, his attention was caught by a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

It was Doris. She looked restless as she stared at Hunter’s reflection in the mirror.

“I’m fine, Nana.”

“Hunter dear…”

“I’m okay. I can handle this, Nana.”

Nodding weakly, Doris took the black coat from the top of his bed and helped him put it on. She saw to it that no part was crumpled.

“You need to learn how to tie this,” Doris stated, finishing the knot on his necktie with a smile. She made it sound like she was sick of it but the grin on her face and the delight in her eyes told him otherwise.

Hunter shrugged and said humorously, “You would be lonely if I did.”

She chuckled. “Silly. Off you go now. Julio will drive you to the chapel.”

“I can drive myself. He must be tired of driving back and forth from picking me up from the airport. You guys need to rest. Let me handle things,” he declined, shaking his head left and right.

“But Hunter you need t –“

“You guys have been with dad all these times. I know you haven’t gotten any rest since he was hospitalized. I can drive. I’ve had enough sleep on the plane,” he insisted, reassuringly. He knew they were worried about him. But he couldn’t let them neglect their health, either.

“Okay. But call me if something comes up.”

“I will.”

With that, Hunter affectionately planted a kiss on her forehead before turning in his heels. From now on, he would have to carry the burden his father had left. He would redeem himself for walking away three years ago.

He believed that as long as he was alive, there would be countless chances to do so.

When he got out of the house, he went to the garage and jumped in his old Mustang. Just like his watch, it was a birthday gift from his dad. From that day forward, he would be reminded of his father’s death whenever he looked at those things – and he would have to bear the weight in his heart each time.

Tapping the steering wheel, Hunter started the engine, cleared his mind, and told himself to focus on what he had to do. The passing of Alexander Kingston II changed not only his life but all the people whom his old man knew.

Everything will fall into its right place, son, his father’s voice echoed in his mind again.

It was the man’s favorite line whenever he was distressed and confused. And Hunter wholeheartedly believed in it – because each time he was in a predicament, he would find a way to solve his problems and get himself out of them.