Falling From Grace

by SL Naeole

  He reached out to pat my head, like he used to when I was younger. I jerked away. He sighed. "I know how you teenagers can react when things get difficult. You want to make yourselves feel better any way you possibly can. I don't believe you'd ever do drugs, Grace, but there are other ways to feel better..." his voice grew softer.

  Now I was embarrassed. Was he suggesting that I'd had sex with some random guy because Graham had hurt me? I looked into his face and that's exactly what I saw. I could feel anger and rage bubbling up within me.

  "Was that why you changed my clothes, Dad? To inspect the goods? To see if I had been spoiled by my need to feel better about having my best friend betray me, my father saying that it's hard to like me and that it was a good thing that he had hurt me?" I stood up, my hands shaking from the intensity of the betrayal. "I got this shirt from a friend. While you may feel that people can't like me, there's one person who has proven you wrong. He likes me, Dad. Genuinely likes me, and he helped me today when I was feeling like absolute crap."

  I stared angrily at my dad, shocked and hurt that he could think I'd have sex with some stranger just to get over Graham. "I didn't have sex with him. Unlike someone else in this family, I don't need to do that in order to feel better."

  I headed back towards the stairs when he shouted my name. "GRACE ANNE SHELLEY, YOU STOP RIGHT THERE!!"

  Tempted to keep on walking, but understanding the consequences if I did, I stilled my feet, my eyes drifting to the rough edges of carpeting that butted up against the stairs.

  Heavy breathing and mumbled counting were all I heard for a few minutes. Finally, he spoke--his voice much calmer...

  "I didn't change you. Janice did that. She told me to let you sleep, that I could talk about this with you in the morning." The melancholy tone with which he spoke kept my eyes glued to the floor--I wasn't willing to look into his face and see the same in his eyes.

  "I told her this morning that you weren't happy about her coming to live here. With us. She said she doesn't want to move in if you don't want her to, that she doesn't want to be a part of this...life, if you don't want her to be. She doesn't want to come between us, Grace."

  I looked at Dad and choked on the words that I had prepared in my rebuttal. His eyes were pleading--his face full of grim lines and a wan smile.

  I remembered that look. He'd had the same expression when he first saw me in the hospital and, seeing that I was fine, had held onto some desperate hope that they had been wrong about Mom. Was it that desperate that he be with Janice? Was he that deeply in love with her that losing her was like her dying?

  I turned and sat down on the bottom step. This was confusing me. I hadn't known that Dad's feelings for Janice were so strong, so serious. But didn't he say he cared for her a lot this morning? Yes. He did. Sex? Sure, I knew they were having sex. He never brought her over here for that, but he never lied to me about spending nights over at her place either. I just didn't know that it went beyond that.

  So here it was. He had finally found someone to fill that void that had been in his heart since Mom died. And I couldn't stand her. I looked over to Dad, looking so small in his inner pain. He was losing a future with a new love and another child. And all because I didn't like Janice and had an unreasonable fear that she was trying to replace my mom in his life.

  How selfish was I being? Graham's face was suddenly in my mind. He had never tried to work on a compromise with Erica about me. He just chose her. I wasn't even part of the equation anymore, and that had hurt me. Never mind the fact that I loved him. That didn't even factor into this problem because he hadn't known that when he 'd made his decision; but if he had, he still would have chosen her over me. I knew that much.

  But Dad had made the same decision this morning, hadn't he? He had underestimated Janice though; she was the kink in the gears. She had decided not to come between the two of us. She had sacrificed security and love and who knows what else so that I could be happy, even though I hadn't thought twice about her happiness, too consumed with what my mom would have thought about all of this. We both were thinking of the exact same thing, only from different ends, and we both had come to the same conclusion.

  Only trouble with that is that now that I had gotten what I thought I wanted, I wasn't happy. I hadn't thought about what kind of effect it would have on Dad, and I just didn't want to see him hurt anymore. He'd spent too much time alone after Mom had died. Everyone said so. Said it was "unnatural" for a man to stay single for so long. Then said it was "sinful" when he started dating again in earnest. He couldn't win for losing. But none of the relationships ever lasted long. I was always the issue.

  No one wanted to be the mother of "Grace the Freak", the gangly, weird looking girl who had somehow survived a horrible car without a single scratch on her while her mother burned to death.

  But Janice was willing. She wanted to be a part of Dad's life as much as he wanted to be a part of hers. She just didn't want it so badly that she'd come between the two of us. I saw that now. I saw all of it, and I felt ashamed. I was being just as cruel as Erica...as Graham. I shook my head. I would stop it.

  "Dad," I began, trying hard to find the right words to express my remorse and guilt. "I think you should tell Janice that it's okay if she wants to move in. She makes you happy, and that's more than I've been able to do this past week. I can't find a reason to hate her for that, and I'm sorry I tried."

  I tried to gauge his reaction, see if what I had to say would please him. "You deserve to be happy, Dad. You deserve to have a second chance, just like everyone else. She's your second chance. I see that now."

  His face was pinched, his shoulders were still hunched, and the words that I had hoped would have changed his entire demeanor weren't enough. I suddenly felt worse.

  "Grace, this isn't something you can just fix by saying she can stay now. This isn't high school, this is real life. She's leaving, Grace. She heard back from a school up north that had a job opening and was just waiting to see if things could be worked out here. She came home with me to talk to you, but when I saw you dressed in some guy's shirt, I couldn't think about anything other than who you'd been with and why you were wearing his clothes-"

  "I told you Dad, he gave it to me because I had spilled food all over my other one." I interrupted, wishing that I hadn't thrown away that shirt just to reassure him.

  He nodded his head, an automatic reaction. He took a deep breath and sighed. "It doesn't matter anymore, Grace. Janice has made up her mind. Look, I'm tired. I think I'll head up to bed. Don't stay up too late."

  I scooted over on the bottom step and watched as he passed me by, looking dejected and absolutely miserable. My relenting on Janice was too late. My moment of unselfishness didn't come soon enough, and knowing that I had been a factor in my dad's unhappiness was weighing down on me with an incredible amount of pressure. Watching him slowly climb up the stairs, I knew I had to do something. I just didn't know what. Not yet, anyway.

  I was galvanized into action as soon as I heard his bedroom door close upstairs, the clicking of the lock giving me an idea. Quickly, I went to the phonebook in the kitchen. I found the number I was looking for and started dialing like mad.

  The ringing was torturous. I willed the person on the other end to answer while I ran over what I was going to say. Three rings. Answer. Four... ANSWER!!

  "Hello?"

  I let out a whoosh of breath, so relieved to hear that voice for the first time in my life, I actually started giggling.

  "Um...hello? Who is this?"

  "J-Janice? It's me, Grace," I blurted out, afraid I'd start giggling again and she'd confuse me for some prank happy teenager, or some psychotic clown-faced killer.

  I could hear her breathing on the other end, somewhat annoyed, rough, and was convinced that she was about to hang up on me when she started talking. "What's the matter, Grace? It's very late. Is something the matter? Did something happen to James?"

  I took a deep breath, sending out a
silent prayer that I was doing the right thing, and started. "Janice, I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what happened tonight. I-"

  She cut me off. "Grace, did your dad tell you what happened? Look, Grace, what happened tonight wasn't your fault. Your father and I, we-"

  It was my turn for interrupting. I didn't want her making up her mind before I had even had a chance to change it. "Janice, please. Let me finish. It's taking a lot for me to do this, but it's for a good reason, believe me." I waited for her to say something but when all I heard was silence, I continued. "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for what happened tonight. If I had been awake, I would have told you that I do want you to move in with my Dad, and start your new little family together."

  I surprised myself with how convincing that sounded, believing in those words myself. "You make my dad happy. He told me so himself twice today, told me how much you mean to him, and that's not something that I take lightly. He wants you in his life. He needs you in his life, Janice.

  "It was wrong of me to have gotten so upset this morning when he told me about the baby...and you moving in. I was angry and upset about my own problems, and I didn't want to see how much he wants this, needs this because then I'd have to think about someone other than myself and I couldn't not be that selfish. Not then. But things have changed, my eyes are open now and I see that I was wrong. You're good for him, Janice. I'd be blind if I didn't see that and admit that now, no matter how I feel.

  "I'm asking you--no, begging you to not leave my Dad, Janice. He deserves to be happy. He deserves to be happy with you. I was being selfish about everything, and I'm very, very sorry about that. You have to stay, Janice. We both want you to stay."

  I could hear her fidgeting with the phone, as if she were trying to find something else to do to keep from having to respond to me. Finally, she spoke. "Grace, I'm supposed to drive up north tomorrow morning to sign my contract papers. It's going to be very unprofessional of me to just not go."

  I felt my stomach hit the floor. She was still going? She was talking about professionalism when my father's heart was at stake? She was...wait. "Janice...? Does this mean you're staying?"

  A small sigh reached my end of the phone. "I love your father, Grace. He makes me happy, too. I want a future with him--with the both of you. You're a part of James...maybe the best part. The best part, he tells me. I cannot have him without you, and I wouldn't want to. If you are sure about this, if this is what you want, then yes, I'm staying."

  I did a quick dance on the kitchen floor at that. There was no rhythm to it, but who needed that when you had just ensured your father's happiness? I had been prepared for a battle; I didn't expect it to be so easy. "Thank you, Janice, for doing this. It really means a lot to me."

  "Thank you, Grace. Thank you for doing this."

  She told me that she'd be here in the morning to tell Dad that she had changed her mind, and that we had talked--in that order--and then we hung up. I was feeling very good. That small act of kindness had changed my whole outlook. All of the events of today had changed my whole outlook.

  After two weeks of doing nothing but crying, moping, and feeling sorry for myself, not to mention a day of hurt, embarrassment, and incredible secrets, I suddenly felt unbelievably tired. Going to bed now would bring tomorrow that much faster...and tomorrow I would see Dad's smile return to his face. Tomorrow I would have a friend, an ally at my side, whose secrets I was now a part of. Tomorrow, I'd begin a new chapter in my life. It sounded so good, I was in my bed and asleep in a heartbeat.

  LOST AGAIN

  When my alarm went off at six, I felt amazingly refreshed. I rushed through my shower, brushing my teeth at the same time. As soon as I had rinsed the last bit of soap off, I was out, pulling my clothes on and struggling against the friction of dry clothes against wet skin. I ran a towel through my hair and then fought the angry tangles with my brush. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I had chosen my favorite t-shirt, black with the head of one of my favorite movie characters, Jack Skellington on the front, smiling his crooked jack 'o lantern smile, and my favorite pair of jeans. A black belt surrounded by grommets, and a matching bracelet were the only accessories I dared wear. I knew my limitations.

  I ran downstairs, walking into the wall of aroma that was canned cinnamon rolls and brown and serve sausages. The typical Tuesday breakfast never smelled so good.

  Dad was sitting at the table, newspaper in hand, sipping a cup of coffee while the cinnamon rolls baked. In a cup of warm water in front of him was the frosting packet, ready and waiting to be squeezed onto the doughy goodness. Dad looked up from his paper and gave me the usual once over. I was used to it, and waited for the normal response to my shirt and jeans combo, but today, nothing came.

  "Morn, Dad," I said cheerfully, hopefully.

  "Good morning, Grace," he replied, a stark difference in his tone compared to mine. He went back to reading the paper. Not wanting to burst out and announce that Janice would be over in a few minutes, I grabbed a mug from the dish rack, walked over to the coffee pot and poured myself a cup. I added the creamer and sugar slowly, counting each spoonful, doing my best to occupy my mind so that my mouth didn't start moving before my head could tell it to stop. When the oven timer went off, signaling that the rolls were done, I rushed over to take them out.

  Before I realized what I was doing, I had my unprotected fingers on the sizzling hot pan, and I screamed. I felt myself being pulled towards the sink, and cold water was pouring on my ever reddening fingers. It should have felt soothing, but all I could feel was the burn beneath my skin, beyond the reach of the water. That was how Janice found us, both of us too preoccupied to hear the doorbell. She quickly went to the freezer to grab some ice out of an ice tray and placed them into a dish towel that had been near the sink.

  "Let me see, Grace," she said, soothingly. I gave her my hands and she placed the now cold towel on my fingers.

  It stung and I flinched away, but she held fast. I didn't want her to think that I flinched out of rejection for her, so I grit my teeth and allowed her to help. She asked me if I was feeling woozy, if my fingers were feeling numb, if I felt nauseated. All par for the course for a nurse, I suppose. When she was satisfied that my hand had been thoroughly cooled, she asked me where the first aid kit was located.

  I gestured towards the top of the refrigerator where the red box was located. She told me to hold the cloth and ice in my hands while she grabbed the box. Rummaging through it, she found a roll of gauze, some sterile pads and some ointment. She removed the towel and ice then and proceeded to apply the ointment, pads, and wrapped my fingers individually. "They'll be easier to clean this way." She said when she was done.

  "Thanks, Janice." I said, wiggling my fingers, glad that at the very least, I wouldn't look like a mummy with mittens.

  It was then that we both realized we had an audience.

  Dad was staring slack jawed at the two of us as though he'd never seen us before. Truthfully, he'd never seen us act so friendly towards each other. Ever. Frankly, I was trying to remember the last time we had even spoken to each other and I was coming up empty, my mind drawing an absolute blank.

  Taking my cue at the look on his face as he gazed at Janice, I gingerly grabbed my book bag with my bandaged fingers, and headed towards the back door. "Well, um, I think I'll catch some breakfast at school. Bye Dad." I kissed his cheek. He was still too stunned to do anything other than nod. "Bye, Janice. Thanks again," I called as I left the house, hoping that they'd have a lot to talk about and all the time in the world to do it.

  I walked around the side of the house, smiling to myself. It was odd how good it felt, seeing the two of them together. Wasn't it just twenty-four hours ago that I couldn't stomach the thought? I shook my head, ashamed at my selfishness. He needed to be happy. He deserved to be happy.

  Who deserves to be happy?

  I stopped short, stunned at the strange voice in my head. No. Not strange at all. It ha
d been there yesterday. But he had also been right in front of my face, too.

  "Robert?" I called out nervously. I walked towards the driveway, past Janice's little SUV, and there he was, sitting on that death machine. My legs started quivering at the memory. "What are you doing here?"

  "You didn't answer my question. Who deserves to be happy?" he said, folding his arms across his chest.

  "My Dad, if you must know. He and his...um...girlfriend are moving in together." I replied. Why didn't you just go digging through my head to find out, instead of asking me?

  He shook his head. "You said not to do that anymore, remember?"

  Oh.

  He laughed. "Now, to answer your question, I'm here to see if my new friend wanted to ride to school with me."

  I felt the warmth flow through me, blooming in my cheeks, rushing to my toes and fingertips. I winced at the pain that suddenly shot through my hands. "Ahh." I cried, dropping my backpack onto the ground.

  He was off the bike and holding my hands before the sound had finished leaving my throat. I blinked as I looked at the spot where he had been and where he was now, and wondered how he had moved so quickly. His hands were cradling mine; he was looking at the bandages, and then into my eyes, asking me silently for the story. I concentrated, focusing on the events that led up to Janice putting the bandages on, hoping he could see them as clearly as I had seen the thoughts he had projected into my mind yesterday.

  He pulled us down to the grass, both of us on our knees; He started removing the bandages that Janice had so neatly wrapped my fingers in. "Robert wha-"

  He shook his head, warning me to be quiet. When the last ointment drenched pad had been removed, and the now angry, blistering skin was exposed, he hissed.

  My eyes grew wide at the sound, and a slight tremble ran through my body. I was tempted to yank my hands out of his, but he read my thoughts as quickly as they had appeared and he clamped his fingers around my wrists like vices, locking them in place.