Page 92 of Eleanor & Grey

Shay looked at me as if I’d just skinned a puppy alive. She held up her hand and pointed to the door. “Get the hell out of my apartment.”

“What?”

“I mean it. Get the hell out of my apartment. Nora Ephron, God rest her soul, was only one of the greatest writers of romantic comedies to ever grace this planet. You’ve Got Mail, When Harry Met Sally, Sleepless-In-Freaking-Seattle, Ellie! Come on! I mean, I love you, but sometimes I worry about your intelligence when you say things like this.”

I laughed. “Sorry, but not everyone’s a movie buff like you, Shay.”

“I’m just saying, she was a legend.”

“So, did you just compare yourself to a legend?”

She smirked and shrugged her shoulders. “If the shoe fits...” She hopped off the couch and headed to the kitchen and tossed a package of popcorn into the microwave. “Back to the main topic for tonight: you and Greyson.”

“No, that’s definitely not the main topic, because there is nothing to talk about. The main topic of tonight is who’s going to get the final rose on The Bachelor.”

Shay groaned. “Why talk about fake reality shows when we have a real one right in front of us? Just give me a little bit more about him,” she said. “What is grown-up Greyson like?”

I frowned, thinking about it. “At first, I thought he was kind of grumpy, and, I mean, I guess he is, but honestly he’s just sad. Like, intensely lonely and disconnected from everything around him.”

Shay grew somber. “That’s heartbreaking. Kind of like Jon Snow, huh? Like a sexy kind of sad? Like the kind of sad where you want to hug someone and kind of hump their leg, too?”

I gave her a stern look.

She tossed her hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay. So, he’s really that broken up, huh?” The microwave went off, and then she pulled out her popcorn. After she tossed the popcorn into a bowl, she opened a bag of barbecue potato chips and mixed the two snacks together. I swore, my cousin could eat anything in the world and remain a stick. If I even looked at a cupcake, my butt grew two sizes.

“He’s like a zombie from The Walking Dead. Just moving along day by day with random outbursts of sadness.”

“That’s really sad. He was such a bright light as a kid. So, are you going to help him?”

“I mean, I want to…I really do. I just don’t really know how to help, and honestly, I don’t think he wants my assistance.”

“Well, just keep showing up. You’re like a puppy dog that people can’t help but fall in love with. Give it time, and you’ll probably help Greyson find his way back.”

I didn’t know if she was saying that because she really believed it, or because she just wanted to see episode three of our show.

But either way, I planned to keep showing up. When we were kids and I was lonely, that was exactly what Greyson had done. He had showed up for me, even when I tried to push him away.

Maybe all people needed sometimes was for someone to keep showing up for them during the hard days, even when they tried their best to push everyone away.

37

Eleanor

Each day I showed up to the Easts’ home just as the sun began to rise. Every time I saw it coming up, I said a little prayer for them. I found gratitude in the little things, because that was what Mom had taught me to do. I tried to appreciate all the small moments, because at the end of the day, those were the ones that count the most.

One Friday when I walked into Greyson’s house, I first made my coffee, like I did every morning, and then went to wake Lorelai. As I rounded the corner toward her room, out of nowhere came Greyson. I crashed straight into him, spilling hot coffee all over his suit.

“Shit!” he hollered, jumping back a bit.

“Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I exclaimed, placing the mug down, and rubbing my hands all the way down his chest to try to sweep the spilled coffee off of him. I paused my movements as I realized I was patting down Greyson’s privates.

Oh my gosh, stop rubbing coffee off his crotch.

Oh my gosh, it’s moving!

I leaped back as I felt my face heating up from embarrassment. “Oh my, I’m so sorry.”

Stop staring at his crotch. Ellie. Look up, look up, look…

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