Page 32 of Before Eve
After her coffin is lowered into the ground, Grayson continues holding my hand as he solemnly leads me to an awaiting black limousine. People stop us, offering condolences.
The limousine door opens and I scoot inside. I expect Grayson to sit beside me and to continue comforting me, but he doesn’t. He takes the spot across from me, gets out his phone, and begins scrolling.
I cry so hard that snot runs from my nose.
With an irritated sigh, Grayson looks at me with indifference. “Your mother was weak. She slit her own wrists. She left you alone and all you seem able to do is cry about it. The whole thing has done nothing but benefit me. People love a good tragic story. She killed herself with you right beside her. Doesn’t get any better than that. The possibilities are endless for me now with ‘suicide prevention’ and ‘casting light on depression’ and ‘mental health initiatives’ and whatever else.”
His words bring more tears. Why is he being so mean? I try to focus on his blurry image but grief cripples me, and I sob.
“Shut up.”
I don’t.
“I said, shut up.”
I don’t.
He reaches across the space, grabs my arm, and shakes me hard. “Shut. Up.”
I don’t.
He slaps me.
It’s the first time he’s ever hit me and it works. My tears instantly dry. My hand comes up, covering the heat pulsing in my cheek. I stare mutely, unable to believe what just happened.
Grayson slides back into his seat, picks his phone up, and goes back to scrolling.
And I remain mute with the realization that I’ve just taken Mommy’s place.
I stand beside West at the ferry’s railing watching the Statue of Liberty grow closer. People pack the boat, mostly families, filling the air with chatter. With his fedora, my ballcap, and both of us in shades, West was right—no one pays us any attention.
“How many times have you been to New York?” I ask.
“A lot. When we snagged our first deal, we came straight here and met with a bunch of big people.”
“Wow, I bet that was overwhelming.”
“My Gramma came with me. She was bound and determined I wasn’t going to get a big head about anything.”
The corners of my mouth turn up. “You sound like you have an awesome grandmother.”
“I do.” He bumps his shoulder to mine. “Maybe you’ll get to meet her sometime.”
“Maybe,” I agree, thinking that sounds pretty great. “Well, with as often as you come here, I’m surprised you’d want to do such touristy stuff like we’re doing right now.”
He leans on the railing beside me. “I never get tired of it. I always see something new. Always.” His lips tip up. “Plus, I wanted to hang out with you.”
I love that response so much.
He leans his shoulder against mine and leaves it there, and I don’t think anything’s ever felt so good. “What kind of movies do you like?” he asks.
“Anything funny. I don’t do thrillers. As you know, I love cartoons. Did you seeDespicable Me?”
He does an impression of the minions, “Ba-na-na,” and we both crack up. “How about music?” he asks next.
“I’m old school. I love Fleetwood Mac and Eagles and England Dan.” I get excited just thinking about all the records Brynn and I used to play in the music room at school. “Simon and Garfunkel and The Beatles. The Who. I could go on.”
He nudges his shoulder to mine again. “Me, too! Cartoons, funny movies, old school rock. Like I said, a woman after my own heart.” West props his elbows on the railing next to me. “How about candy bars?”
