Eleanor & Grey(23)

The next day, we could hardly find a reason to smile. Then the following one, it became even harder. Our reasons for joy were decreasing day in and day out. We all knew it, but we tried to hide from each other the fact that we were all cracking more each day. Our reasons for smiling were so very few, yet we were all too tired and too stubborn to admit it.





“Hi, Ellie,” Greyson said while standing on my porch one Saturday afternoon. He was holding some canvas in his hands and smiling brightly. I was confused about why he was there. Truth was, ever since everything with Mom worsened, I’d been a bit antisocial. I didn’t have a clue why he’d still want to be my friend, or whatever it was that we were. We hadn’t even had a chance to really talk about anything between us after our first kiss.

He never brought it up, and neither did I.

If we were hanging out together, I was quiet on the outside while my insides screamed.

He hadn’t signed up for a sad friend, but still, he kept showing up.

Something should be said about the people who show up for the depressed souls. They never receive enough credit for being brave enough to stay.

“Hey. What are you doing here?” I asked him.

“I just thought I could stop by to officially meet your mom. I wanted to see if she’d like to teach me some of her art skills.”

“That’s really nice, but she’s not feeling too great today.”

“Oh. Well, maybe…”

“I’m feeling good enough for that,” Mom interrupted.

I turned around to see her standing in the foyer, looking skinnier than I liked.

“Are you sure?” I asked. She had bags under her eyes, her hair was wrapped up in a bandana, and she looked nothing like herself.

“Of course. Come on in, Greyson.”

He walked past me and followed Mom into the living room. He set his materials on the table, and then sat beside Mom on the couch. “I’m sorry we haven’t officially met yet, Mrs. Gable, but I’m Greyson. I just wanted to stop by and see if you could give me some art tips. I’m not an artist at all, but Ellie has told me you’re the best artist in the world, and I’d love to pick your brain about techniques and stuff.”

Then, for the first time in days, Mom smiled.

More of that.

For a moment in time, Greyson took her mind off of her illness and accompanied her back into the world she loved more than anything. She spoke about curves and lines, pastels and chalks, paper drawings versus canvas.

She had him paint and then she critiqued his work, but with a gentleness Mom always maintained. She didn’t give critiques without offering solutions. Her eyes lit up when she talked about art.

After a while, they headed to Mom’s studio in the garage, and they stayed there for hours. I didn’t join them, because everything they were talking about pretty much just went over my head.

Mom needed it—she needed to feel inspired.

When they finished, they both came back into the house covered in paint. Mom was wearing an apron, and a paintbrush was balanced behind her ear. She looked a little like herself.

“Thank you, Grey,” I told him as he was getting ready to leave.

“For what?”

“Being you.”

I didn’t know why he’d come into my life all those weeks before. I didn’t know why he chose to stay. I didn’t deserve a friend like him. Honestly, I wasn’t sure anyone deserved Greyson East in their life, but I was so thankful he was in mine.

Mom walked up to me after Greyson left and wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “You know what I like about that boy?” she asked.

“What’s that?”

“Everything.”





11





Eleanor





By the time Mom’s sixth chemotherapy appointment came around, school was back in session. I’d never thought I’d say it, but being back at school was the kind of normal activity I needed in my life. It distracted me from worrying, and I needed a break from worry.

Shay and Greyson made sure to keep my mind busy, too. They’d come over to my house and read books with me, and they’d sit with me during lunch. They’d talk about anything and everything to keep me laughing. Turned out Greyson was the master of telling really bad jokes that didn’t make sense but, somehow, were still funny.

Even on the days when I wasn’t feeling happy, I’d give them a small chuckle.

If Shay wasn’t checking in on me, Greyson was looking for an update.

I needed that. I needed their checkins to remind me that I wasn’t alone.

One Saturday afternoon, I sat at my computer researching cancer. My parents told me not to search anything on the internet anymore, but I couldn’t help it. It was like an odd addiction that I couldn’t break. Even though it made me sadder, I kept hitting enter on the search engine.

When the doorbell rang, I sat up a bit as Mom called my name. I hurried into the living room, and I stepped back a bit when I saw Greyson standing there in a suit and tie with a corsage in his hands.

“Hey, Ellie,” he said with that Greyson smirk of his.

I raised an eyebrow. “Hi…?” I lowered an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, I was just in the neighborhood and wanted to see if you wanted to be my date to homecoming.”