Drown

Chapter 13

I had to go to a different coffee shop than the one where Greyson worked to get a drink before class. He'd told his boss we were going to visit his dying grandmother.  So if they saw me, they'd know he lied and he'd probably get fired. I went to my usual classes, but only one really mattered to me.

Before I went into our writing class, Abbi stopped me. She had a class with Greyson, and knew people who did too.

"Here's a list of what he missed today. I don't think it'll be very hard for him to catch up."

The list was short, so I figured two weeks wouldn't do a whole lot of damage. Besides, Greyson was good at school. He wouldn't struggle with cramming a few extra topics into his head.

I went into the classroom and grabbed a pillow from the closet. Up until a month ago, I'd still been sitting in a desk due to my injuries. But I was almost completely better now. Everyone filed in, and class began. Dr. Hart was rambling about some kind of quarrel he'd had with a store manager when he stopped and spoke to me.

"Where is Greyson?" he asked.

I tried not to upset myself while I spoke. I didn't really want to tell them, but I trusted these people.

"He's sick." I said, technically not lying. "He's going to be out for a while."

Dr. Hart didn't ask where he was.  He just smiled and turned to the rest of the class.

"We finally got one of them alone!" he cheered.

"What?"

"Do you realize how long we've been waiting for this? We've all agreed that you two are our biggest OTP, and we never get to talk about it."

"Are you like, a thirteen year old girl?" I asked, slightly afraid.

"Look, you two are cute together. We're all jealous. We want to know how you did it."

"How we did what?"

"Tell us how you met!" a girl named Taylor called out.

"Yes. Tell us how you met and, everyone take notes. We'll use this for an assignment later."

"Are you serious?" I asked.

He looked at me and raised his eye brows. His eyes said, "Bitch do you think I'm screwing with you?"

So I told them the story. I told them how Grey was my best friend's cousin, and how rude I was to him the day we met. I told them about all the tension there was between us; both emotional and sexual. I told them about the stabbing incident and how my attacker was Greyson's step father. Everyone 'awed' when I said I shielded Greyson from the knife.

Talking about all this made me feel better.  Talking about him made it feel like he was here somehow.  So, I got a bit carried away. I said some things that might have been a little too intimate to share. Nothing graphic. Just little things, like how Grey had a birth mark on his inner thigh that looked like the Eiffel Tower. A few people made suggestive eyes at me when I said that.

"We're engaged and you think I wouldn't get that far?" I laughed.

All they heard was, "we're engaged."

Everyone started freaking out.  Even Dr. Hart was squealing with excitement.  They all wanted to know who proposed, how they proposed, and how long it took to know he was the one.

"We're all invited to the wedding, right?"  He asked.

"Sure."  I laughed. "But I'm sure it won't be for a while."

"How long must we wait!"  He asked dramatically.

"Well, if I'm being honest... it probably won't be for a few years.  We'll probably want to finish school first and all that."

"So why'd you propose so early?"  someone asked.

"Because I wanted to lock him down."  I shrugged.

"IN THE WISE WORDS OF BEYONCE, HE LIKED IT SO HE PUT A RING ON IT!" Dr. Hart declared.

Everyone laughed, even me.  Once we all settled down, the mood changed.

"So, Luca."  Dr. Hart asked. "Where is Greyson really?"

I looked down towards the floor.  I felt my hands grow cold as the sadness seemed to seep through my veins again.  

"He's uh... he's-" I began, and would have kept going if my phone hadn't started buzzing.

I pulled it out of my pocket and saw HAVENBROOK MENTAL REHABILITATION CENTER on the called ID.  I answered it immediately, knowing it was either Greyson, or bad news.  

"Baby, hey."  I said quickly, not waiting to find out who was on the other end.

"Hi, Luca."  It was Greyson.  He sounded upset.

"Are you okay?" I asked. "You sound sad."

"Well, no.  But I'm at a rehab.  So it's kind of a given that I'm not going to be very happy."

He was quiet for a second, but I could hear him breathing.

"Luca, this place is so depressing.  I haven't seen them trying to fix anyone."  he said quietly.

"Well then what have you been doing?"  

"This morning, I was woken up and given food.  Then they left me in a room to watch TV.  I'm not even suppoesed to be talking to you right now."

"Do you want me to come get you?  You don't have to stay if it isn't going to help."

I was more than willing to drive back those three hours to get him.  I knew it would be a good bit of wasted money, but I just wanted him back.  If this place wasn't helping him, I wasn't going to be deprived of my love.

"No.  I mean, at least not yet.  I'll give it another night.  Maybe something will change."  he sighed.

"I don't get it.  That nurse told me the place was amazing."

"Well from what I can tell she lied."  The end of his sentence stopped quickly, then he whispered. "I have to go.  Someone's coming.  I love you."

He hung up the phone then, leaving me to sit quietly as I thought of what he was doing now.  Did he get caught using the phone without permission?  Was he getting yelled at?  Was he getting some kind of punishment?  

I put my phone down and looked up at the class, who had been watching as I talked to Greyson.  I didn't want to start crying.  He was probably just fine.  But my mind decided to steer itself into thoughts of the worst scenarios.  And I started sobbing.  The amount of tears coming from my eyes was extremely embarrassing. 

"Luca-" Dr. Hart started trying to comfort me.

"I'm supposed to be a man!" I snapped, "Why am I so fucking emotional?"

"Because you love Greyson." he said. "He is the only thing I've ever seen you get upset over.   It's okay.  We get it."

My eyes burned and I felt like I was going to throw up.  I was so scared and so angry at myself.  I noticed some people scribbling words into their notebooks while they watched me.  It reminded me of a quote that seemed to sum up my life in the last few months.

"Thank you for the tragedy, I need it for my art." 

-Kurt Cobain.