Grey

Rory had a personality that was bigger than his body could handle. He was so invasive and never took into account the feelings of others. Sometimes, it was endearing. Other times, it wasn’t.

I remember the way he bombarded me with questions the second I stepped into our dorm room after my first date with Grey.

“Did you get to third base?”

“No, Rory.”

“Second?”

“No.”

“Did you at least kiss her?”

I hesitated, not wanting Rory to know just how nervous I had been. I hadn’t kissed her. When I’d driven her back home, she’d simply glanced over at me, thanked me for a great night and said goodbye before getting out of the car and running up to the doors of her apartment building, letting herself in. I remember the way I’d stared after her, puzzled that she hadn’t allowed me to walk her to the door. Isn’t that how these things worked?

Grey was different, that was apparent in everything; even her end-of-date etiquette, or lack of it, in this case.

The next time I saw her was on a Wednesday. It was an uncharacteristically cold afternoon, and it had been raining relentlessly all morning. I’d just stepped out of my morning lecture, and was met by a sea of black umbrellas all over campus. In the midst of all the black, a singular, vibrant yellow umbrella stood out. I knew straight away that it had to be Grey.

I, of course, hadn’t thought to take an umbrella to class that morning. I’d assumed the rain would stop by the time I got out of my lecture. That assumption, amongst so many others in my life, was wrong.

I remember rushing to catch up with the yellow umbrella, desperate to see her, if it was her at all. I was sure it was. My clothes were soaked through, and people shouted their complaints at me as I accidentally bumped shoulders with them or kicked up water on their pants.

Finally, I caught up with the yellow umbrella. I called out her name, and the person with the yellow umbrella stopped, turning around to face me.

“Nate,” Grey said, breaking out into a huge smile. “You’re soaked right through! I bet even your bones are wet.”

She was always saying funny little things that didn’t really make sense. I remember laughing at her before she tugged on my sopping wet sleeve and pulled me to stand with her underneath her yellow umbrella.

I asked her if she’d just come from class and she said yes. I suggested we do something together, and she intertwined her fingers with mine, leading me to a nearby coffee shop. Underneath that yellow umbrella, holding hands with Grey, I felt like I was invincible. Like nothing could touch me as long as I was with her. I hoped she felt the same.

She chose one of the small tables in front of the shop window. She always liked sitting at windows. She used to say that she liked watching the world outside, from a safe place.

Some days, I’d sit with her for hours and watch people pass us, and listen to her make up stories for each of them. She was always wondering about people. Sometimes I like to think that she still wonders about me, like I wonder about her. But people keep telling me that it’s wrong to think like that because it will only make me sad.

She ordered coffee and then she looked at me strangely when I didn’t order anything. She asked me why I hadn’t, and I admitted to her that I didn’t even like coffee. I remember the adorable little frown that settled on her features.

“Why did you drink coffee the first time I met you, then?” she asked me.

“Because you bought it for me,” I replied. Grey beamed back at me, her eyes bright.

She told me how sweet I was, and we fell into an easy conversation for the remainder of the afternoon. I sat there and listened to her talk about her favourite books and music and films. She never called them ‘movies’ for reasons unbeknownst to me.

She never once mentioned her family, and when I asked about them, she would avoid it by asking me a question. I could tell she didn't want to talk about it, so I'd played along, all the while wondering what had happened to her family to make her act like that.

She asked a lot of questions, and her eyes never left my face when I answered them. Grey always gave me her full and undivided attention and always looked so interested in everything that I was saying. I loved that about her. It made me feel like maybe I wasn’t so ordinary after all.

We stayed for so long that the store owner had to make us leave at closing time. By then, the rain had subsided and I had dried, mostly. Grey walked slowly, swinging her umbrella by her side. She looked up at me through her eyelashes, her eyes shining.

“I like you,” she said.

I smiled. “I like you, too, Grey.”

“Would you go to a gig with me tomorrow night?”

My stomach flipped at her invitation. She was making the first move. Grey wanted me to go somewhere with her. I tried to contain my excitement, but the stupid grin spread across my face anyway. I nodded and told her yes. She just smiled and slipped her arm around my waist, leaning into my side.

I remember thinking how perfectly she fit there, the feeling of her warmth, the way I’d so easily draped my arm over her shoulders like it was natural. All the cold my body had been feeling before was replaced by the most indescribable warmth.