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Prologue: I Just Got to Know You…
People are thoughtless Half of the stupid rituals they do are just by rote—rehearsed feigned attempts at human kindness done with their own best interests in mind
They show up to weddings tothere with the boss or with the rich-ass relative—or perhaps for the ti They donate their clothes to the needy just to write the fat check just so they can see their naram And they volunteer at the soup kitchen so they can talk about how they really understand the poor, like they have any clue what it feels like to not be able to feed your family
My house is filled with thoughtless people
They won’t talk to me, but I can sense their fake sympathy by the half-sat my sides Grown men and women—who I don’t even knoipe tears fro me to mirror their expressions I don’t I just stare thened attempt at human kindness
“Thank you for co,” I say “It would mean a lot to him to know you came”
I say these words even though it wouldn’t My father, Mac Hudson, didn’t like people He didn’t trust theood reason Most of the huglers, thieves, gang leaders—if I pulled together a slideshow of the people in my father’s life over the last 20 years, it would be filled with colorful characters,hard time at the federal prison thanks to their connection with Mac Hudson
I was seven years old the first time I met my father He didn’t really know I existed until then Mom was a bit of a ood, she liked to supplement it with a lot of meth Problem was, her loere just the opposite I don’t re at her skin and pulling at her hair She had these tics, where her entire body would jerk I’m sure it wasn’t always that way—I kno her addiction ruined her mind and body But as a small child, that was all I knew—all I ever saw
It was normal
She was never cruel or physically abusive, quite the opposite, actually When she was on a high, she’d spend thousands of dollars buyingelse I wanted Of course, she charged it all to credit cards and built mountains of debt, or committed identity theft But I didn’t know about all that; I just enjoyed
When she crashed, she would just disappear for days, either locking herself in her roohbor while she ran away…somewhere Those times left less of an impression They were filled with emptiness And my new toys didn’t feel the same when mom wasn’t there Instead, they felt dirty
The day she pulled up in front of Mac Hudson’s house was one of her lowest I can close my eyes and still see the sores on her ar to the bottom of her T-shirt with both hands Mac opened the door I rehter, and they argued Then I re to her car, and tossingfrom her hile she sped away
Mac and I sat on that porch, several feet apart, while I cried for hours He had no clue what to do with a seven-year-old girl, let alone one who had just experienced her first broken heart When he finally stood up, he asked me if I wanted to come inside for a sandwich I was alone in the world, so I did And soed-up oak table in theAnd I never cried another tear for Sabrina Ferris
Life with Mac went on , often calling on friends to watch me while he went to work I knew most of the beat cops in Louisville by the tiot my period, Mac called on his partner, Missy, to teachfor pads and panty liners
By the tih school, Mac had become a detective, which meant his time at home was even less We were hter I didhim once a week just to find out what he wanted e I ate my dinners at the table alone, then I would sit up in my room to finish my homework, until I heard Mac’s keys slide across the counter letting ht, and he’d promise not to make too much noise with the TV