Page 12 of Eleanor & Grey

The best thing about my grandfather was the fact that he was nothing like my father.

He was a good man through and through, and the world sucked that much more now that he was gone.

It had been a few weeks since I’d lost him, and honestly, I still didn’t know how to stop missing him.

The guidance counselor at school told me that over time it would get easier dealing with loss, but I didn’t find that true. It didn’t get easier; it just got lonelier.

I glanced back and looked through the window. Something shattered in the living room. Mom had thrown a wine bottle at Dad’s head, but she’d missed—she always missed.

Housekeeping was going to have the time of their lives getting that red wine out of the carpet again.

“Just leave, Greg! Go!” she hollered at him. “Go be with that whore!”

Like always, Dad stormed out of the house.

I think it worked best for him when she told him to leave. Then he was free to go to whoever he was sleeping with behind Mom’s back.

He paused when he saw me sitting on the front porch. “Greyson. What are you doing out here?” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

Avoiding you.

“Just got home from hanging with Landon.”

“Your mom’s acting like a nutjob again. I’m wondering if she’s been taking her pills.”

I didn’t comment, because any time he called her crazy, I wanted to punch him square in the face.

Dad narrowed his eyes and nodded my way. “I heard Landon started an internship at his father’s law firm.”

“Yeah.” I knew where this conversation was headed.

“When are you going to come down to EastHouse and learn something, huh? I can’t run that place forever, and it’s about time you figured out the basics. The sooner you learn, the sooner you’ll be ready to take over one day.”

Here we go again.

My father was determined to have me work at EastHouse Whiskey headquarters, because he was certain I’d be taking over the company one day. My grandfather had started EastHouse, and he’d run it with all his heart and soul for years until his retirement. My father had followed in his footsteps.

It was a family business, and I intended to take over someday to honor Grandpa.

I just didn’t want to do it any time soon.

“Are you deaf, boy? Am I not speaking English?” he hollered.

I stood up and stuffed my hands into my pockets. “I just don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

“Not ready? You’re sixteen years old, and you don’t have any time to waste. If you think this basketball thing is going be your one-way ticket out, you’re fooling yourself. You don’t have what it takes to make it on basketball alone.”

There were three things to note about his comment:

I was seventeen, not sixteen.

I didn’t want to be a basketball star.

Piss off, Dad.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and walked past him and straight into the house. He hollered that we weren’t done talking about the internship, and we’d pick it up at a different time, but I wasn’t too worried about it. He never stayed home long enough to really hammer into me.

As I walked inside, I saw Mom picking up the shattered pieces of glass from the bottle.

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