Page 151 of Seeing Grayscale

I think about everything I’ve been through. All the years of hating who I was, hiding it, and hoping for just a scrap of love from my dad. Every time I had to turn someone away because it was stepping out of the safe sexual box and into intimate territory—every sleepless night I spent stressing over what I would do if I ever got found out…it all slams into me like a tidal wave.

And then there’s Gray.

Beautiful, brave, Gray.

I know what choice he’d make. I even know what he’d say. If I do this, though, there’s no going back. Any hope of getting back into my dad’s good graces will be eradicated.

I’ll be disowned. I won’t have a dad.

Part of Gray’s and my argument flashes through my skull, reminding me once again why I’m here—why I am choosingme.

“You have been doing this for fifteen years! Do you fucking hear yourself? You want to hide me just to make your dad happy? The dad who manipulates you—who doesn’t give a fuck about you?”

I take a breath, meet Grant’s eyes, and extend my hand. “Yeah. We have a fucking deal.”

FIFTY-EIGHT

Bysomefuckedupmiracle, I got hired.

I have a job.

The interview was straightforward, with not too much chit-chat. Basically, all my new boss, Cliff, wanted to know was whether I could lift more than forty pounds. I’m sure I can, but I didn’t double-check before, so I guess we will see. The warehouse is part of the local grocery stores, mostly dealing with storing and loading dry foods like canned soups, cereals, etc. I’ll be helping load trucks, hence the weight-lifting question.

As I step out of the building, feeling a bit overdressed in this grey suit, I loosen the tie Marie put on for me earlier and blink up at the sky.

I did it, Momma.

Are you proud, Dad?

The clouds part just as I think it, giving a bit of warmth on an otherwise freezing cold winter afternoon. I know I should be over the moon with accomplishment. I should be throwing my fist in the air, hooting and hollering with excitement, but I just stand there.

Getting a job was for me, I know that, but I mainly started it all because of Hunter—to help him.

In my delusional brain, I thought that my minimum wage job would be enough to take care of us both. It won’t even get me a place to live, not with these hours. But it’s something when all I’ve had is nothing. And I did it myself, for myself, and no one can take that shit away from me now.

I walk to the bus stop, digging in my pocket for the bus pass. Abel insisted I buy one with the ten bucks he gave me this morning. It’s good for the whole day, and I’m not ready to go back to their house yet.

Ever since I became an adult, people have shit on me. Strangers, people I thought could be friends, my first boyfriend—the list goes on and on. They’ve seen prey—something to take. Caleb took. Dan’s goons stole. Guys that I didn’t even know mugged me and beat me up because I made the mistake of falling asleep.

For the longest time, I thought there was some sign on my back that only they could see. A sign that said:fuck with me.

It’s long overdue for me to rip that shit off my back and burn it.

I’m not weak and I’m no ones fucking prey. Grayson Parker is done being the guy everyone walks away from.

When the bus comes, I take two more to get downtown. Like I’m guided by some spirit, I remember exactly where the place is. I get off at the right bus stop, stare across the street, and move.

The bell dings as I push through the door ofCourt Syde. Colors invade my vision, bright and overwhelming at first. Much like the first time, emotions swarm me, poking and prodding at my dreams and wants like vicious carrion birds. I swat it away. Now isn’t the time for nostalgia or dead desires. Art will have to wait another day.

Butnot this specific piece.

I find the young woman working here and stomp right up to her.

“You have stolen art hanging in the back.”

She looks up from her cellphone, her bright blue hair flopping to the side from its spot in that messy bun. “Huh?”

“Myart is hanging in the back of the studio. It was stolen. I want it back.”

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