Page 103 of Seeing Grayscale

“Of course not.” Despite what Alex says, I won’t just abandon Gray. I don’t care if he might be better off. The man beside me will never view it that way. He’ll take it as rejection, and it’ll destroy him.

“What if things don’t work out with Xavier? What if he makes good on his threat?”

It’s not something I want to entertain, but I understand the reason he’s asking.

Truthfully, if push comes to shove, I’ll have to do serious damage control with my dad. I’ll have to come up with yet another lie, fabricating everything Xavier could use against me into something believable. It’s just slander…

I wouldn’t be able to stand there, shoulders back with a proud, raised chin and own it.

I can’t. I don’t have it in me.

“I’ll figure it out,” I say. “I always do. The good news is that he doesn’t know about you, alright? You’re safe. There’s no way he can connect you to me.”

He nods a little, then peeks at me through his hair. “As soon as I get my GED, I want to try applying for a job again.”

“We’ll make it happen.” I smile for his benefit, knowing he sees right through the facade but returns one. “I’ll see about getting your birth certificate and social security card this week, too.”

“Thank you.” He leans over to press a quick kiss on my lips.

FORTY-THREE

Myrootsaresoovergrown that my scalp constantly looks greasy. As I rub my fingertips over the patchy stubble I’ve been too lazy to shave, I wonder how Hunter ever wants to kiss me.

Well, he’s done significantly less of that, too, as of late.

For the past three weeks, I have been busy on the laptop, studying, and failing practice tests for my GED, and he gets progressively more stressed. We hit more than a few roadblocks trying to get my birth certificate and social security card, but his assistant,Alex, was able to track down the originals that hadbeen ‘lost’.We went and picked them up last week and I've got them safely stashed in my new wallet.

I guess the CPS people had my name filed wrong in their system. Parkers, instead of Parker.

Some shit, right?

When my head starts to hurt from studying—who the fuck even uses algebra—I end up drawing until my fingers cramp. I haven’t touched the spray paint he bought me—I don’t have anywhere to use it—and now I’m staring at myself, realizing just how unnattractive I am.

All this food he feeds me has significant weight forming. I’ve got a stomach now, when it used to be malnourished and flat. My chest is filling out. I’ve got a pimple on the tip of my nose, which my septum ring only accentuates.

Most of the clothes he’d gotten me when we first met are getting snug, too. And when the hell did my forehead get so big? Has it always been that way?

I lean forward, examining my pimple in the mirror, and run my tongue ring over my teeth. I just can’t figure out why we aren’t moving forward. Hunter usually comes home from work, takes a shower, tosses back a glass or two of whiskey, then asks me if I’m ready for bed the second we eat dinner. Because this distance bothers me, I've been rewatching my mom's favorite movies at night, having made Hunter drag the TV from the guestroom into his.

I don't know that he pays attention to them because he usually falls asleep within ten minutes of spooning me.

He doesn’t laugh.

We don’t get to know each other anymore.

And a few mornings ago, I heard him whispering on the phone when he was getting ready for work, talking to what I can only assume was his dad.

Somethinghasto give.

Frustrated, I rip open the cabinet under the bathroom sink, find the clippers, and plug the cord into the outlet. I’m not a barber, but I try my best to trim my hair and clean up the wild fuzz at the base of my neck. I shave my face, pop the pimple on my nose, and then shower. While I’m in there, I take extra time to groom everything.

But all of that is done in like…twenty minutes. Hunter won’t be home for another six hours.

I don’t know how to get him back.

This crap with Xavier has pushed the rift between us so wide that I can’t see the other side of it. I know he’s scared—I get it. And I did agree to this shit. At any point, I could leave. Just walk out that door and never look back.

I’m not ready, though.

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