chapter twenty

The woman dressed in a fancy white blouse and black pencil skirt has her blonde hair gelled back into a tight bun at the base of her neck, and currently taps her foot impatiently behind the jewelry counter. She blinks expectantly, raising a blond, high-arched brow. I try my hand at an apologetic smile to mask my obvious indecision.

I've had the urge for a lot of apologetic smiles as of late, and there's some legitimate apologizing I need to do. I've been putting it off for days and days, the hot June sun incessantly melting one into the other.

Yesterday evening was Saturday, and Serena used the excuse of it being a family day so that I couldn't see my friend. I went home like she'd expected me to. Then I rifled around in our musty basement and found a box of clothes, most of it either my father's or Henry's.

Every day I see Grey, he's putting on weight. His cheeks are filling out, his arms not so bony, ribs not so evident. I can't be the only one who notices, but his parents don't seem to be making any effort to buy him new things.

That night, I took two old battery-operated lava lamps from another box, stuffed the clothes in an old backpack, and made my way to the treehouse.

The lamps gave off enough light in the small wooden space that I could see the blue depths in Grey's eyes, and also show him what I brought.

In the dark, as we sat cross-legged in our mess of blankets and pillows, Greyson tried on each shirt and sweater I brought. His body is so much healthier. His pale skin, which has always been so, has lost that ghastly grey undertone. His chest has accumulated hair the same colour as the floppy brown locks that now fall into his eyes. 

I began to wonder what would've become of us had we been together all this time. And I began to wonder if it had been written in the stars only to be lost in the darkness of the sky.

I snap back into my body and glance up from the glass display. The middle-aged blond woman raises a perfectly trimmed brow at me.

I point at a pendant through the glass. "Do you have a smaller version of that one?"

The woman huffs. "What you see is what we have."

I frown. There are only three gold crosses, and two of them are larger than the one Grey used to have.

I remember the day his parents gave it to him. He was turning thirteen and it was part of his birthday present. He was proud to receive it; had always said he felt a connection to something greater. Even went so far as to say it made him feel like he was meant for that greater something. I've never understood but have always wished I did.

"Ma'am, are you going to make a purchase?" snips the tight-haired woman behind the counter.

"Is browsing illegal?" I bite back. She bristles but says nothing else.

We're the only two bodies in this jewelry inlet at the mall. It's ten o'clock in the morning on a Sunday, and I'm guessing most people have better places to be.

Glinting under the light, I catch sight of the smallest gold cross. It's about the size of a dime. Discrete—something I think Greyson will appreciate.

I point on the glass. "That one," I say quietly. "Can I see it please?"

The woman nods stiffly, keying open the case from behind and taking the gold cross and chain off the black velvet it was laying on. She holds it out to me, letting it spin in the bright white lights in the small store. I reach out, graze the tips of my fingers to the delicate pendant.

The employee hums, lowering the necklace. "Two-fifty, chain included," she says robotically.

I recoil. I didn't bring that much with me. "Do you—do you have anything—"

"Cheaper?" she says.

I force out, "Yes. Please."

"We may have this one in silver somewhere in the back. I'll be right with you." She disappears through a door behind her.

Silver. My shoulders deflate. Greyson's cross was gold. I wanted his new one to be gold, too. But two-fifty? And that was the smallest one.

The woman appears again holding a velvety black box that reminds me of the ones I've seen in romance movies that always house engagement rings. But this one is a long rectangle. "Silver plated, same size," she says. She hands it to me carefully, like I suppose I'd hand something of value to an untrustworthy child.

I open the box and the bright grey metal smiles at me, sparkling perfectly pristine under the white light. The cross-pendant lays flat in the centre on black velvet, strung along with a thin silver chain.

I keep my eyes on the metal. "How much?"

"Eighty. Plus tax."

My heart crumples in shame. I wish I had the money to fix this properly, but I don't, so this is the best I can do.

I snap the lid closed and raise my chin. "I'll take it."

✿

As I'm riding the public transit bus home, the bus passes the old neighbourhood church. That's where I'll be going in a few hours.

I proposed it to Steven a few nights ago. It's still a miracle that Serena is letting me tag along.

Grey used to like attending Sunday mass, but I never went with him. It was something Steven, Serena and their son did together. They didn't go every week, but almost every other week. And since Greyson's been back home these past few months, he hasn't been at all.

When the bus stops for me, I shuffle up to the front and clamour through the empty bus to the front door.

"Thanks, Kim," I say to the driver I've known since growing up in this neighbourhood. She always takes the runs around here when picking her shifts. She waves as I hop off.

I walk home and immediately head upstairs to dress for the event which has me more nervous than graduation ever will, which is also right around the corner.

The short white sundress I chose last night lies ready on my unmade bed. It's soft, well-worn, and smelling of the perfume my mother used to wear. Floral notes mixed with cinnamon, cloves, and vanilla.

I strip off my hoodie and shorts and throw it on. It fits the curves of my frame, smooth and warm.

I walk over to my mirror and pull some hair away from my face, pinning it back. 

"It's ten to eleven!" Pat calls from downstairs. 

I slip on my running shoes and blow out a breath. Maybe this will be a very good thing. 

No. It has to be.

✿

The sight of St. Xavier's Church is one I haven't seen in years.

I've really only been to mass a few times. Always with Pat, who was drawn to the church on a few anniversaries of Henry's or Lynn's death. Those were the mornings after his very, very bad nights.

Through the car window, I stare up at the large church with stained-glass windows and a towering steeple.

I hop out of the car and smooth the white sundress on my hips. The silver chain in my pocket weighs heavy.

I turn back to the car to find Grey. He's clothed in black slacks and a white dress shirt tucked into them, much like his parents' outfits. Grey's shaggy hair is combed away from his face, yet his face is ashen, and his eyes are wide, staring straight into the back of the driver's seat in the van.

I walk forward and offer a hand. He glances at it and then at me. My smile is heavy and sad, but it's for him. 

Greyson's warm hand finds my own. I relish in the feel of him, right here with me. Finally.

We walk side by side toward the church, right behind his parents, who are dressed perfectly professionally.

The late June sun shines down kindly today, lighting up every possible shadow and allowing for no darkness. It's breezy, the warmth playing with the hairs framing my face.

A few families stop us. They are so happy to see the Scotts back in church, together again. These people were always a second family to them. Serena has the job of politely telling all of them that her son needs space.

I instinctively step in front of Greyson, remembering the news vans that showed up the day he came home, the greedy eyes, the prying cameras.

The churchgoers grace us with quick apologies and blessings, and then move on.

I'm sure they have good intentions, but today will only work if Grey can have some breathing room. He hasn't been around many people since he's been back. Mostly, it's been his doctors, his parents, and Pat and I. This outing today is a massive step—one I didn't think he'd agree to.

But he did. I'm so glad he did.

The four of us shuffle into the church entrance, and we're greeted with bright yellow lights, the smell of old wood, and rainbow rays streaming through the stained-glass windows.

Serena and Steven walk in front of Grey and me, heading towards the few first rows of deep red mahogany pews.

Greyson halts in the middle of the church, body freezing in place around passing bodies finding seats around us. My hand is pulled from his.

I turn. "Grey?"

"I don't think I can do this," he says.

Steven and Serena appear beside us. "Darling?" prompts Serena, reaching a hand towards her son's cheek. He moves away from her, and I both see and feel the pain that emanates from her eyes.

The last pew near the large back wall has no one in it. I clear my throat and point to the back. "How about we go sit there?" I say.

Greyson's jaw is taught, the muscles in his cheeks popping painfully. All he does is shake his head.

A large family bursts in, knocking into Grey's shoulders. They half-heartedly throw apologies over their shoulders, and clamour into a pew to our left.

That's when Greyson abandons the rest of us.

Serena moves to follow but I raise my hands. "Maybe just give him a minute. I think he needs—"

Serena shoves past me. Her husband follows her, giving me some bizarre form of fatherly disappointment.

I stare after them, past where Greyson has now disappeared, and intake a sharp breath through my nose.

No. No, no, no, this has to be a good thing.

I swallow roughly and follow the path all three Scotts took out of the church.

Back in the hot June sun, I have to squint to make out the cars in the parking lot. The Scott's van stands where we left it, but no one's around.

Just to the right, there's a wooded area that the church graveyard lays in. Grey's there, sitting on a small solid black iron bench. His parents are a few metres away, shoulder to shoulder, staring at their son with helpless eyes.

I run two clammy hands down my mother's pretty white dress, square my shoulders, and head over.

Serena spots me first, and while I was expecting some sort of angry expulsion from her, I'm proven wrong. Her gaze meets mine, and then her shoulders deflate. I cautiously move to stand in front of both her and Steven, just for them to both lower their eyes.

"He wants you," says Steven. "We'll...be inside. He told us...We're going—We'll be inside."

Arm in arm, leaning on each other for support, Steven and Serena venture back into the church where mass has probably started with the twelve booming clangs of the church bells.

What's left is my wildly beating heart, and Greyson Scott leaning forward on the black bench.

I walk over and take the space to this right. The metal armrest digs into my ribs when I breathe.

For a few minutes, we just melt in the heat, our white clothes failing to reject the sunlight.

Eventually, Grey says, "I remember coming here." He turns his head to look sideways at me, sapphire eyes vulnerable in the daylight. "I liked it, right? I liked it here?"

I purse my lips, nodding a little. "You did."

Grey's hand moves to his throat, holding the black tie that's fixed there. He pulls on the fabric until the tie is looser around his neck. "I don't know why. It's horrible here."

"You said it made you feel important," I say. He scoffs, shaking his head.

"Of course I did."

My hand finds the shallow pocket in my white sundress. I feel it—the silver cross and chain. What if this makes things worse?

"I got—" I clear my hoarse throat. "I got you something this morning. I was going to give it to you after mass, but..." I trail off, sticking my hand into my pocket.

"But you were never very patient," Grey jokes.

Then, as if everything stops moving around the globe—the birds freeze in the sky, leaves stop halfway to the ground, clock pendulums halt their swinging—he laughs.

Greyson laughs.

I'm too shocked to do anything but gape at him as he shakes his head, elbows on his knees.

"Remember when you dressed up as Jack Sparrow for Halloween to go to school, but Patrick got the date wrong and sent you the day before Halloween?" Greyson chuckles again, and it's without a doubt the most captivating sound the Earth's ever heard.

"I, uh..." I swallow my surprise—my utter shock—and nod my head. "Yes. I—I remember. We were...you cut out an eyepatch with construction paper and wore it with yarn so I wouldn't be alone." My eyes start to water. "We were pirates together."

"That movie was weird," he says, kicking a stone with his black shoe across the soil. "It was about pirates, right? What was it called again?" He looks to me for the answer. "Something about the sea?"

"Pirates of the Caribbean," I say, my brows together. "It was our favourite."

He nods a little, like he might have known all along, or just wished he had.

I close my fist around the silver chain in my dress pocket and retrieve it. Without looking at Greyson, I softly say, "It's not gold, like your other one, but it's pretty similar, I think. Here." I set the cross flat in my left palm, letting the chain dangle from my hand, and finally present it.

Greyson straightens up slowly, his eyes fixed on the glinting silver under the sun. I offer it again, waiting for any sign of life other than the distilled shock that's taken form on his parted lips.

"Do you not want it?" I ask softly, my heart falling. "It's okay if you don't. I should have asked you first."

Before I can take it back, he gingerly picks up the small cross from my palm. As he peers down at the pendent in his hands, he whispers, "You got me another cross."

Something in his voice springs a multitude of tears to my mismatched eyes. "Yes," I murmur shakily. "I did."

The chain is long. It's long enough that Grey has no trouble slipping it over hishead. Once it's settled over his white dress shirt, resting on his loose black tie, he takes it between his fingers, just feeling the presence of it there.

I can't say anything. If I so much as try, I'll break into a thousand sobs, I just know it.

Greyson—my best friend in the entire world—looks at me then, moisture welling in his own eyes. Without warning, he slips his arms around my waist and brings our bodies together tightly.

Unearthly. That's how it feels to be in his embrace after so long.

I waste no time, throwing my arms around his neck. He buries his face into the hair that's falling down my shoulders and my back.

Please don't ever, ever let me go, Grey.

But, eventually, we have to let go.

Grey wants to try again, so we head back into the church. Priest Mathews is in the middle of a reading, so we're careful to be as silent as possible.

One pew at the back is abandoned, so we sit there together, near the aisle. Steven's bald head and Serena's peppered hair rest in the front row.

We're closer than we've been since he's been back. I relish every second, completely unable to focus on anything Priest Mathews is saying.

At some point during a song that neither of us sing, I glance to Grey to find silent tears streaming readily down his cheeks. If I hadn't looked, I never would have known he was crying.

I hold back my own tears and set my palm open on my thigh. He glances down, takes it, and laces our fingers together.

We both keep our gazes forward. I squeeze his hand. I'm right here. You're right here.

He squeezes back, harder than he ever has. We're here.

I brush my thumb over his tense hand. Together.

Priest Mathews leads on while Grey and I stay silent. When the service is over, everyone collects their things and we have to let go.

Things are changing. Tomorrow, I graduate. Then, only two months of summer separate me from the next phase of my life. Without Greyson. I simply don't know if I'm going to be able to leave him.

I drape that thought in a blanket and focus on the presence of the boy next to me. We are never to be parted again. 

Keep a weather eye on the horizon...something's coming, folks.

Thank you for reading.

-Laurel