Grey

Grey was distressed for reasons I couldn’t figure out. I’d never been very good at guessing how people were feeling or what they were thinking. Because of this, I was constantly being surprised, which was something I didn’t like very much. I liked to know exactly what was happening and what would happen next, and how I’d react. No surprises meant no assumptions or expectations, which meant no disappointments. Just the way I wanted it.

Grey was full of surprises. I just didn’t think our first fight would ever be one of them. The worst part about the whole thing was that I honestly couldn’t understand what I’d done or why she was so upset.

When we got back to her apartment, I followed her inside and watched as she placed her bag on the kitchen bench before crossing the room to sit on the couch. She looked completely out of it, her face blank and completely void of any emotion.

“Grey?” I said. “Grey? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, closing her eyes.

“You’re obviously not,” I said.

“Don’t speak for me, Nate.”

“I’m sorry,” I said meekly.

“Do you know how humiliated I was? You treated me like a child.”

“Grey, you know that’s not how I meant - ”

“Just go, Nathaniel.”

“You never call me Nathaniel,” I said, looking at her with a pained expression. People didn’t fight like this. Was it really even a fight? What was it? Was it classified as an official first fight according to Grey’s standards? Apparently.

“Go,” she repeated, avoiding eye contact. I did as she said and left, closing the door quietly behind me. I knew there was so much more to it – she’d overreacted. Hadn’t she? I’d obviously touched a nerve, and I wasn’t leaving until I got her to talk to me.

I turned around and opened the door again, standing in the doorway and looking over at her, still sitting on the couch. She didn’t even flinch.

“You know what? No. No. I’m not leaving until you tell me what this is really about!” Grey turned around and looked straight at me, her eyes glassy.

“I told you to go, Nate! Just go!” she shouted.

“Why, Grey? Why!”

“You don’t want to know,” she said, looking away from me. I walked inside and slammed the door behind me, crossing the room to sit beside her on the couch and hold her face in my hands.

“I do want to know, Grey. Tell me what I can do to fix this,” I whispered, forcing her to look me in the eye.

“My Dad, he…” she trailed off.

“He what?” I prompted.

“Forget it,” she said, shaking her head.

“No.”

Grey was silent for a long time. I released my grip on her and she looked down at her hands folded in her lap. After what seemed like forever, she looked up at me, her face more serious than I had ever seen it.

“I’m afraid I’m like my Dad,” she whispered, before completely breaking down in front of me.