Page 42 of One Shade of Gray
I considered trying to find her unhinged brother to protect her while I saw her, but he would likely turn me away. Michael would accompany me, but he wasn’t the kind of man for a fight. I made a list of my friends in my mind and found it shorter than I thought. I only trusted a handful of people in the entire world with my secrets, and not even all of them. Each person had their own special version of my story. Izzy, who I’d know the least amount of time, held the most ofit.
The smart thing to do would be to go into the hospital. It had been a year since I’d last visited. Every time I went, they bragged about being close to something that could help. After almost sixty years of the same speech I had my doubts. Perhaps it was time to ask them outright if they wereclose.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head on the back of the cushion. Izzy’s face swam before my mind. It wasn’t Izzy I was getting confused with Sibyl, it was my memory of Sibyl that had been misplaced. But I feared Jake having told Izzy everything would make her wonder if I still wanted her. If maybe I’d only been with her because ofSibyl.
It might have started out that way, but the more time I spent with her, the less I thought of Sibyl and the more I just wantedIzzy.
That fire and energy she lived with each day was astounding to witness. Every arm gesture, every sip of her coffee, they were all fraught with an overextended sense of wonder. Sibyl, while beautiful, had only ever been remarkable while she was onstage acting. Otherwise, her character was meek and agreeable. I preferred Izzy’s fight everytime.
I dragged my phone from the pocket of my flannel pants and opened the text message application. Izzy’s name was at the top of my contacts as a favorite. I punched the button and hovered my fingers over the miniscule digital letters. What did I say to her? Did I apologize or grovel? Should I simply send her flowers? No. She didn’t seem like an apology bouquet sort ofwoman.
I typed, the keys faux-clicking along with eachpress:
Isobel. I have returned home. Please don’t come. I just wanted you to know I’mwell.
A minute passed before I built the courage to hit send. It left with a whooshing noise, and I clicked the button to darken the screenagain.
I could only pray she heeded my request and stayed away. If she showed up, I didn’t know if I could keep myself away from her. I’d already proven how well that couldwork.
My phone pinged, and I stared at the green box that had popped up on the screen. The text from Izzyread:
This isn’t over,Gray.
Only that damn woman would convey her concern with a threat. I appreciated that about her. The crass way she could throw around words to make people flinch while knowing the entire Shakespeare bibliography byheart.
She wielded her words to strike, cut, and sting. Some might even call it a gift, at least those who weren’t on the pointy end of herbarbs.
I slid the box so that it wouldn’t continue to ping and wondered if she was on her way to me right now to deliver ascolding.
With a sigh, I put my cup and phone down. The massive pile of books in the middle of my living room neededrectifying.
I sank to the floor and began organizing the same way I had when Izzy had helped. This time, I wasn’t interrupted by revelations of insanity. That was the thing about being crazy. Once you’re there, it doesn’t matter. There wasn’t anywhere further you could go afterthat.
I slid the books together, lining up the spines on the carpet in alphabetical order so that I could transfer them over to the shelves more easily. One blasted book fell over from the stack, and I sat it back up. It was ironic that it was the one volume I wanted least to touch. Why had I kept it all these years? By now the immaculate first edition was worth a fortune. But this one was tear stained by the author. Delivered by courier. If the truth ever came out, it would likely double invalue.
I remembered the knock on my door. Wait. A knock actually did come from my door. I shifted out of my piles, careful not to jostle anything over and went for thehandle.
When I jerked it open, I expected to see Izzy standing on the other side. Instead, an envelope sat propped against my doorframe. I recognized the stationary. The front had my last name scribbled across it:Gray.
I slipped the gold filigree card from the slot and tried to clear my mindagain.
Aninvitation.
Romeo and Julietto be performed at my theater in oneweek.
One week toprepare.
One week to elude a mentalbreakdown.
One week to figure out how to make Isobel mine forgood.
19
Izzy
Ididn’t knowwhy I invited him to opening night. To be fair, all he had to do was walk in the door; he didn’t actually need an invitation to attend. I’d delivered it more as a warning that he and I would figure this out. I’d given him a week, and I was curious to see what he did withit.
The play went off without a hitch. As I knew it would. I only hired the best, and despite the drama and adversity we fought through during rehearsal and with the theater renovations, I’d known we would pullthrough.
