by Elicia Hyder
Mom laughed. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes. I think she’s left more bruises than roller derby.”
“Speaking of, your black eye is finally better.”
“Yeah. My backside is almost healed too. Now it looks like a faint brownish-yellow stain in the shape of Wisconsin.”
She chuckled and sipped her coffee as she walked to the kitchen table. I followed her when my cup was poured and I’d diluted it with half a bottle of hazelnut creamer.
“How are you doing, honey?” she asked when I sat down.
“I’m good. Staying busy at the shop, of course, and I went back to see my therapist.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“Things with Jason are better now too than the night he dropped me off here in a puddle of tears. We have had a few other hiccups, though. Mostly because of Clay.”
“What else has happened since you saw him at the hotel?”
“Clay’s been blowing up my phone.”
Blowing up may have been an exaggeration, but compared to how many times I’d heard from him in the last six months—and how little I wanted to hear from him now—it certainly felt like a lot. Not to mention, the content of his messages.
“What does he have to say?”
“He misses me. And he wants to talk.”
“Talk about what? About how much of an asshole he is?”
I laughed. “Mom!”
“Well, he is.” She smiled over her cup. “Do we still get to meet Jason today?”
My cheeks flushed with heat. “He’ll be by after two.”
“Did you get him anything for Christmas?”
“No. We agreed not to get each other anything this year. We’re still supposed to be taking our relationship slow.”
“That’s very good.”
“I think you’ll really like him. He reminds me of Garrett.”
She laughed quietly. “You’d better not let Garrett hear you say that.”
“Let Garrett hear you say what?” Garrett asked, coming into the room.
Mom turned all the way around in her chair. “What are you doing up this early?”
Garrett, still in his flannel pajama pants and T-shirt, walked to the coffee maker and reached for a cup in the cabinet above it. “I fell asleep last night watching some reindeer horror movie and never put out the presents from Santa, so I had to get up early and do it. The girls will probably be awake soon. What are you two doing up?”
“Talking about the weaker sex,” I said with a grin.
“I’m glad you’re coming to terms with it, Grace. It’s good you are finally conceding your place.”
“If I had something to throw at you, I would.”
He grinned over his shoulder. “You’d probably miss.”
Mom got up and walked to the oven. “Don’t you two start. You’ll wake up the whole house.”
Garrett put his hands up as Mom preheated the oven. “Mom, back away slowly and no one has to get hurt.”
She laughed. “Oh, shut up. I’m baking frozen cinnamon rolls.”
When Garrett’s coffee finished brewing, he carried it to the table and sat down in his place across from me.
“Did you get the girls the skates and the gear?” I asked.
“I did. They’re going to freak out.” He pointed at me. “Your ass had better help me with this.”
“You know I will. I’m even playing around with the idea of helping coach the team.”
“Aren’t you a little new to be coaching?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Their current coach doesn’t seem to think so. She’s been asking me to do it for weeks now. Even just last week when I went to watch that scrimmage.”
“Right. With the old rich lady. Have you made up your mind about taking on those jerseys?” He slurped his coffee.
“I’m going to tell her no.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Why?”
“Because you were just in here telling us how you hate your job, and now something new comes along, and you’re not going to at least try it? Dumb.”
“Garrett, if you only knew how busy I am at the dress shop.”
“Then hire somebody to manage it for you,” he said.
Mom returned to her seat. “What about Kiara? She has certainly proven herself these past few months. With a little direction from you, she could handle the store while you try something new.”
“Kiara isn’t going to stick around after she graduates. You and I both know we’ll be reading about her in fashion magazines before too long.”
“I said the same thing about you once upon a time, Grace. You won’t know until you ask her. If she says no, you’re no worse off than you are now.”
“And you can always hire someone else,” Garrett said. “Mom, for example.”
Mom laughed a little too loudly for the early hour. “I’m retired, or have you forgotten?”
Garrett’s head fell to the side. “Are you though? Did I or did I not hear a sewing machine at five this morning?”
Mom raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue.
Garrett turned back to me. “And once you have someone to help you really manage Sparkled Pink, you can diversify. You can let the dress shop pay the bills while you get the new thing off the ground.”
“How would I ever find clients?”
“Hell, if you get into the screen-printing business, I might even let you make all the T-shirts for the brewery.” He tapped his chest. “Insta-customer.”
I held up my hands. “What do you mean you might?”
“You’d have to give me the family discount,” he said, smiling.
“Let’s say I did decide to try it. What if I rented equipment for a few months just to do it for the juniors’ team and to see if I liked it. Where would I even put the machines?”
“You could borrow some space at my warehouse,” Garrett said with a shrug.
I sat back in my seat. “You’d let me do that?”
“If it’s for the team my kids are going to be on, I guess I’d better start supporting it.”
Heavy footfalls pounded the steps in the foyer.
“Speaking of your kids,” Mom said.
Garrett stood, stretched his arms over his head, then patted his flat stomach. “Enough work talk for the day. It’s time to go play Santa.”
The squeals were deafening when the girls opened their Christmas presents. Garrett bought them skates (that were nicer than mine), nice indoor and outdoor wheels, full sets of pads, and shiny black helmets. I bought them enough crazy knee-high socks to last a lifetime and got them each a poster of my team, signed by most of the skaters.
For the rest of the morning, I answered a bazillion questions. I could see why Garrett had begged me not to encourage them. They didn’t need it.
Gabby had her derby name already picked out: Gabzilla. Hope had hers narrowed down to Cinderolla or Hope U. Fall. My dad said she should be called “Toothless,” and Hope launched a full-blown, sugar-fueled assault against him that made Garrett take the Christmas ribbon off the tree and wrap it around his ears.
Finally, I showed them how to change their wheels and took them outside to skate around the driveway. Mom called us in around lunch, and I made the girls a deal: if they would go play with their other new toys and leave me alone for an hour, I’d take them to the skating rink one day that week. Thankfully, they agreed and went upstairs.
I collapsed onto the sofa.
“See what I mean?” Garrett asked from where he was laying on the floor, trying to watch television.
“Holy smokes. Think they’re excited?” I asked with wide, exhausted eyes.
“Welcome to my world for the past few months.”
Mom stood up. “I need a nap after all that.”
“I’ll come with you,” Dad said, getting up to follow her.
The doorbell rang.
I looked at my clock. 2:12 p.m.
“Who could that be on Christmas Day?” Dad asked with a knowing
smile.
“I’ll get it!” My heart pounding with excitement, and I jumped up and ran to the foyer. I threw open the door, and froze.
It was Clay.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, looking behind him to the empty street.
He shrugged and stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. “It’s Christmas. I wanted to see you.”
“Why?”
“Can we talk a minute?”
Suddenly, I felt someone behind me. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here,” Garrett said over my shoulder. “What the hell do you want?”
“I want to talk to Grace,” Clay said.
“I don’t think Grace wants to talk to you,” Garrett fired back.
He was right. I didn’t want to talk to Clay, but this nonsense needed to stop. I turned and put my hand on my brother’s chest. “I’ve got this under control. I’m going to talk to him, so maybe he’ll go away.”
“I’ll make him go away.”
I was sure he would. “Wait here.” I stepped outside and tried to close the door behind me, but Garrett blocked it with his foot.
It was sweet he was so protective. I grabbed Clay’s jacket and hauled him halfway down the sidewalk for some privacy. “Now, why are you here?” I asked, crossing my arms.
He looked down at the ground, and when his eyes met mine again, they were glassy. “It’s Christmas. I miss you.”
“You don’t get to miss me!” I threw my hands into the air. “You lost that privilege when you knocked up somebody else and divorced me.”
“I’m sorry—”
“You’re sorry. You’re sorry. You’re sorry. Why weren’t you sorry when you caused this mess? Why weren’t you sorry the first time you felt guilty because of her? You haven’t always been a dick, Clay. I know you must have had a moment where you could have stopped it if you’d wanted to.”
He covered his face with both his hands. “I don’t know, Grace. It was like I forgot what it felt like to have a woman attracted to me.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve always been attracted to you!”
“No you haven’t. Not for a long time. I was simply the other half of the equation on your fertility calendar. You didn’t want me.”
I swallowed hard.
“Somewhere in all that, we lost us,” he said, his voice breaking.
As much as I hated to admit it—and, actually, would never admit it out loud to him—Clay was right. “That doesn’t excuse what you did to me. I never went looking to anyone else to fulfill what I wasn’t getting from you.”
He reached for my hands, but I jerked them away. “You’re right, Grace. You are so right. What I did was inexcusable. And I’m sorry. If I could take it all back—”
“You can’t take it all back! It’s done. It’s over. You’re engaged to marry someone else, or have you already forgotten about her too?”
“I don’t want to marry anyone else. You are my wife.”
I laughed. “I have a stack of paperwork and an attorney’s bill that say otherwise.” I gripped my forehead because it felt like it might explode. “Where is all this coming from? Is it from seeing me and Jason together?”
“Seeing you with him made me crazy, but it’s more than that. Packing up the house, boxing up our whole life together. I hate it. I hate it more than you can imagine.”
“I very seriously doubt that. I had to leave everything behind. Even my dog, Clay. Even my dog!” Angry tears were pooling in my eyes. “If you really cared about me, if you were really sorry, you’d let me have Bodhi. But you’re not sorry. You’re just disappointed that the grass really isn’t greener on the other side.”
“Grace, want me to end this?” Garrett asked from the front stoop.
I shook my head. “No, we’re done here.”
“Grace, please,” Clay begged.
“This madness ends here.” My voice was even and stern. “Goodbye, Clay.”
As I turned back toward the house, I caught a flash of a blue-and-white car passing by. Then Clay grabbed my arm, spun me around, and pressed his lips against mine.
“You son of a bitch,” Garrett was saying as the world spun back into focus around me. I released Clay’s jacket that I hadn’t realized I had grabbed and shoved him backward as the tail end of the Metro police cruiser disappeared around the corner.
I touched my mouth. “What did you do?”
Tears spilled down Clay’s cheeks. “What? Are you afraid of what Jason might think?”
Just then, Garret stormed past me. I clotheslined him with my arm as he went for Clay. “Stop! He’s not worth it.”
My brother’s face was red, his jaw was set, and his fists were clenched at his sides. I looked him in the eyes. “He’s not worth it,” I said again. “Let’s go inside.”
As I pulled Garrett toward the house, Clay let loose a sob behind us. “I love you, Grace. I’m sorry. I love you!”
I stopped. Turned on my heel. And walked back to him.
The tiniest flicker of hope twinkled in his eye.
“Say you’re sorry one more time.”
“I’m sor—”
I balled my fist and knocked him out cold.
Twenty
I was lucky I didn’t break my hand.
My knuckles swelled immediately. So did Clay’s face. He left without much more to say after that except for a few choice words that almost left him at my brother’s mercy once again. When he was gone, Garrett took me inside and put a bag of frozen peas on my right hand. I tried to call Jason, but he didn’t answer.
That night, once I was back at my apartment, he finally returned my call. I answered on the first ring. “Hey, I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”
“I know. I was really exhausted after my shift, so I came home and passed out. Merry Christmas.”
His tone was difficult to decipher. I couldn’t tell if he was sleepy or sad. Had it even been him that drove by the house that day? If it wasn’t him, why hadn’t he come by or called?
“Merry Christmas.” On my couch, I pulled my knees up to my chest. “Did you drive by my parents’ house today?”
“Yes.”
I swallowed. “So you saw what Clay did?”
“It still isn’t over, Grace.”
“It’s over enough that I punched him in the face for kissing me.”
There was silence on the other end of the line. “You punched him?”
“Yeah, and I almost broke my hand.”
He was silent again, but I could hear him breathing on the other end of the line. “Do you understand that feelings still have to be pretty intense to punch someone you were once married to in the face?”
I slumped to the side against the arm rest of the couch. “OK. I guess you have a point. But I didn’t kiss him. I need you to know that.”
“I believe that. And I’m not mad at you. I think we just need some space.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it’s been nothing but drama since you and I got together. The hotel, the text messages, now this. I really like you, Grace, and I thought I could be patient and handle it because of how much I want to be with you, but this shitstorm is making me crazy. It’s going to ruin everything if I don’t back off for a while.”
Tears drizzled sideways across the bridge of my nose as I laid against the armrest. “When will I see you again?”
He sighed on the other end of the line. “You’ll know when you’re ready. Until then, I need to step back.”
“I understand. I’m sorry this is so complicated.”
“It’s not your fault, Grace.”
“It kind of is. I pinky swore.”
He chuckled softly. “I’m fine. We’ll talk soon, OK?”
“OK.”
I hung up the phone and cried.
Monday morning, I went back to work.
I heard nothing more from Jason. Nothing more from Clay either, which I wasn’t shedding any tears over.
Kiara came in
to the store around nine, all smiles and excitement, talking about her trip to New York. She described it like I’d never seen it for myself, about the beauty of the Christmas lights and the overwhelming feeling triggered by the soaring skyscrapers. She talked about the food and the museums. How sad the 9/11 Memorial was, and how she’d spent six hours wandering the Met. She was mostly impressed by how unexpectedly nice the people were, and how great Uber service was in the city.
She showed me all the pictures of the store windows she’d seen. And I could honestly say, her design was right up there with the best of them.
We were in the back workroom, chatting in the breaks between the whirring of our sewing machines. “Kiara, what are your plans after you graduate?”
“I really haven’t decided yet. Right now, all I want to do is pack up my bags and move to Manhattan.”
I remembered that feeling.
“Why do you ask?”
“The semester is over now. You’re done with this place if you want to be,” I said, cutting off an extra strip of satin.
She stopped pinning the piece of lace she was working with. “I thought we had agreed I could keep working here.”
My eyes snapped up. “Of course you can. I didn’t mean it to sound like I was anxious to get rid of you. Quite the opposite actually.”
Gripping her chest, she laughed. “You scared me. I thought I was getting fired.”
“Not at all. Do you remember Sylvia asking me to make those jerseys?”
“Yes. Are you thinking about doing it?”
I dropped my hands into my lap. “Maybe, but I can’t do it alone. Not while running this place too.”
“I’ll help in any way I can.”
“OK. I think I’ll tell Sylvia I’ll at least try it.”
Kiara’s eyes doubled as the gravity of what I’d just said sank in for us both. I raked my nails back through my hair. “Ahhh! Am I actually going to do this?”
She laughed. “Would you be working for Sylvia?”
“I don’t think so, but I’ll know more after lunch tomorrow.”
On Tuesday at lunch, Ben met me at the door to Sylvia’s house. “Grace, come in! So good to see you again. How was your Christmas?”