Page 80 of Seeing Grayscale

It takes me a minute to realize that I still have the thing. Not remembering where I put it, I follow the sound through Hunter’s house, finding it on a charger in the spare bedroom. The number isn’t saved in my contacts—which is no surprise there—so I’m hesitant to answer.

A pulse of worry hits my chest, though. What if it’s Hunter? Other than his texthoursago that said he’d be late, I haven’t heard from him.

It’s been fucking with me all day that he hasn’t really reached out. Not like he did before…

“Hello?” I answer on what I’m sure must be the last ring.

“Grayson Parker?” The chirp of a woman’s voice comes through.

“Yes…?” It’s jarring hearing my full name.

“Hi, yes. This is Madeline calling on behalf of Doctor Perry. It’s time to come in and get your leg examined. Can we schedule that appointment?”

My stomach swoops. An appointment? Hunter never said I’d have to go back.

The fact that I do must mean he wants me around longer. He left before we got to talk about what happened yesterday. I don’t know how he feels or what is going to happen. All I know is that I’ve been nervous since I woke up, that this is it.

We had our one day, and now it’s time to return to reality—the one where we don’t fit.

But this? This phone call means otherwise.

Did he give Doctor Perry my number to make sure I’d have to stay with him? Hunter knows I don’t have a way to get to fucking Seattle.

He won’t send me back.

Heisn’tsending me back.

My heart flutters like a hummingbird, and relief and something warm settle in my soul. I can’t help the smile on my lips or the hope taking flight.

“Mr. Parker?”

“Sorry. Um. Yeah. We can do the appointment.”

“When would you like to come in? We can do this coming Friday or Monday. Morning or afternoon?”

I go to pick a day and time, but then hesitate. I don’t know when Hunter works. What if he can’t take me? I could always take a bus… Friday might be a good option because it’s the startof the weekend, but Monday would give me more time—give us more time. “Monday afternoon?”

“Does 2 pm work?” she asks happily.

“Yeah. That works.”

“Great. I’ll put you down for Monday at 2 pm.”

We say goodbye and hang up.

Keeping the phone in my hand, I leave the bedroom, heading back to the living room and eyeballing the couch. It’s so fucking uncomfortable. The only reason I slept on it at all was because I was drunk. Deciding to go to the backyard because I remember seeing some chairs out there, I walk through the house and outside. The smell of rain on the grass is strong, and light grey clouds overhead hint at possible rain.

Finding the lounge chair, I sit, prop my leg up, and sigh.

That smile comes back when I glance over at the giant Connect Four. I don’t remember the last time I had fun like that or could let go of the pessimistic shield I wear like armor. Even the guys from the group home never made me feel safe enough to be silly like Hunter and me were. I always had to be tough, laugh at what they did, and like what they liked. The only reason they didn’t chew me a new one for my art was because they thought spray painting walls was cool and rebellious.

Thinking about my art dims the light within me, though. I’d temporarily forgotten that Caleb stole it. I guess some part of me always wondered what happened to that piece, seeing as he threw me out without a second glance and kept everything I thought was mine. I never thought Caleb would have the balls to dothis, though.

But he fooled me real good—made me think I was worth something.

It’s all too easy to go down that rabbit hole, realizing I’m making the same mistakes with Hunter. Only it’s so much worse, now.

He’s got me away from everything I know—getting me used to color again when all I’ve known for four years is bleak greyscale. Hot meals, warm beds, clean clothes, and feeling like I matter are a dangerous combination for someone like me. The latter being the final nail in my coffin.

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