Falling From Grace

by SL Naeole

  "I thought that what I was feeling for Graham was the kind of love that you talked about having with Dad. You know, the kind that made your heart seem like if it were removed from your chest, it would fly away because it beat so fast? I didn't really understand what that meant, didn't know just how deep and life changing that was until I met Robert.

  "Oh Mom, he's like something out of this world. It's as though I stepped off of the page that was my life and walked into a completely different book! He's kind, and sweet, and beautiful, and he cares about me. He might even love me, if I dare to stop being so self-conscious all the time. But Mom, more than that is the fact that I love him. I love him so much. It's like my world was in perpetual sleep mode, and then he came and made the sun rise, waking me up to a whole new world.

  "I can't even begin to describe it. Just seeing his face when I close my eyes makes my heart seem ready to run away and join him, wherever he is. I have trouble keeping my thoughts straight around him sometimes, which is ironic, since he can read them. But he doesn't think I'm weird, or a freak, or anything like that. He actually sees me as beautiful, Mom. Me! He sees who I am, sees my memories, sees my mistakes, and he doesn't think any less of me. He couldn't tell me otherwise."

  I reached down and pulled the pink and white flower out of the vase and stared at it. It still looked vibrant and healthy, as though it had been cut just seconds ago. Leave it to an angel to pluck the most perfect blossom that seemed like it would bloom forever.

  "He gave me this flower to bring to you. Can you imagine how inadequate I felt, knowing that he brought you flowers before I had? Well...one flower, but you know what I mean. I guess I'll just have to bring you an entire bouquet now, huh? Oh Mom, I'm so happy...it's weird. Things were going downhill so fast. First with Graham, and then with Dad--did you know that he and Janice are having a baby? I felt so angry, like he was betraying you or something. I don't know why. You've been gone for so long, and I know that you'd want Dad to be happy--you wouldn't have wanted him to feel bad about finding that with someone else.

  "And I understand all of that now; I understand how important being happy while we're here truly is, because I can appreciate it now. I can appreciate what it feels like to be happy--completely and fully happy--because of Graham, and Stacy, and Robert."

  I put the flower back in its glass home, and returned to tracing the engravings. My finger was a lot wider than it was the first time I had done this, but my emotions were the same as I realized that I'd have to leave soon.

  "I miss you, Mom. I miss you so much, and the only part that hurts me now is knowing that you can't share all of this with me. I don't know how the whole heaven and angels thing works, but I'm sure it's not like I can simply have Robert send you a message or anything.

  "I just want you to know that I'm happy, Mom. I'm truly, truly happy. You don't have to worry too much about me, alright?"

  I kissed the stone once more, my fingers tracing the nine and one, and began to recite the psalm that those numbers represented--a ritual mom and I had had after our cemetery visits. She loved to sing the psalms; some of my earliest memories of her were singing them while cooking, or cleaning. Some kids had "Mary Had A Little Lamb"; I had psalms 91 and 121.

  This was how Graham found me, with my face pressed against now warm granite, my hand partially covering the lettering that marked this to be my mother's final resting place, and my voice, repeating the same few verses over and over again in a sing-song voice.

  When I finished, my traditional good-bye to my mother complete, I looked up at him. And her.

  "Lark! Wow, wh-what are you doing here?" I stared, stunned at the beautiful and ethereal being who could have been one of the very angels I had just sung about.

  "I do etchings of the stones for art class." She pointed with her walking cane to a bag that was slung across Graham's chest, its canvas material stained with charcoal. "I've got a few good ones from what I could feel. A mother and child, a former civil war soldier, and I was in the middle of getting a rubbing of this woman who had the most unusual name when he came along."

  I could do nothing for a while but gawk at her. Apparently Graham didn't think anything was unusual about a blind person doing charcoal rubbings of gravestones. Judging by the look on his face, he probably thought it was the coolest thing since power steering.

  "Did you say you made a rubbing of a mother and child?"

  Lark nodded and reached for the bag, lifting the flap that hung over the opening and then pulling out a leather folder. She counted two sheets and then pulled out the third. "Here it is. An Annaleigh and Katherine MacDonnell. I was intrigued by their joint date of death. It seemed that Annaleigh died in childbirth, and Katherine along with her. Very tragic."

  I looked at the rubbing, my finger running along the empty space where the names had been engraved. "I remember them," I mumbled.

  "You remember them? They died over a hundred years ago, Grace," Graham laughed.

  I looked at him, feeling incredibly guilty for not having revealed that part of my life with him for some reason. "My mother and I used to come to the cemeteries when I was a little girl, and we'd make up stories about the people who were buried. Mom said that Annaleigh had been a teacher, and that Katherine had been her first child. I said that they were super heroes."

  I waited for the laughter to come, but none did. Lark looked thoughtful. "I used to do that. I used to pretend that I had been friends or lovers of the people that had died, and that I was grieving over some great tragedy. I can't see the television so I'd just create my own soap operas in my head."

  I looked at Graham, expecting something, anything to come out of him that sounded like a snort, a guffaw, a chuckle. Instead he just stared at Lark, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly open, as if wanting to say something but not knowing what. I realized that was what I must look like around Robert.

  He's too far gone right now to think about anything worthwhile to say. All I hear in his head are the sounds of polish folk songs for some reason.

  I blinked in shock. I didn't know if it was because Lark was sending her thoughts to me, or because I knew what she was hearing and why, and she didn't. That's what his grandmother used to sing to him when he'd have nightmares.

  She looked surprised. How odd that you'd know what he was thinking about, and understood it, while I couldn't. I suppose that's what comes of having known someone for so long.

  I nodded my head once, making sure that Graham didn't take too much notice. "So, um, Lark, what name was it that you were rubbing when Graham found you?"

  "It turned out to be his grandmother. Her name sounded so odd. 'Bronislawa' just doesn't seem like a name one would find in a cemetery in Ohio. I had to get a rubbing." She gave Graham a dazzling smile, and I could have sworn I saw his eyes cross.

  "She was a very scary woman to everyone except Graham. To her, he was the sun, the moon, and all of the halogen bulbs in between," I pointed out. "She used to yell something at me all the time that I never understood, but Graham told me that she was scaring death away from me, to keep him from putting his hands around my throat. She frightened me so bad once, I was forbidden to go near her after that."

  Lark's face was calm, but I could see in the way her mouth no longer appeared loose and carefree that something I said had upset her in some way. Stupid superstitions.

  I understood the sentiment. Mom had said the same thing when she had heard what was being said. It had been Dad who no longer felt I should be around Graham's grandmother, and rather than argue with him about it, mom relented.

  "Well, I asked Graham if he wouldn't mind dropping me off at the mall on your way home. I'm going to meet up with some friends and pick a few last minute things before tonight. It's only a few minutes away from here by car, and he said he didn't mind."

  At the sound of his name, Graham's eyes refocused and he started blinking rapidly, his eyes dry from ogling Lark all this time. "Uh, yeah. I didn't think you'd mind, Grace, you know, since
we're on this whole trusting friendship thing."

  "Why would I mind, Graham? Lark is Robert's sister and like she said, it's only a few minutes away." As we walked towards the car, I had to suppress the smug smile that I could feel creeping up on me. The knowledge that people couldn't help but be affected by an angel's presence, and that Graham was more than affected while I had been able to resist somewhat was strangely satisfying. When it came to angels, Graham the football hero was bested by Grace the Superfreak.

  "Why do people call you a freak?"

  The sudden question sent both Graham's and my heads snapping in Lark's direction. Our faces both held shock and anger. I knew his anger stemmed from his built in need to defend me, but mine was at the fact that she had read my mind, and made no secret of it.

  "Why are you even asking?" I looked at her. Why don't you just pick through my memories and find out?

  "Yeah, why are you asking?"

  Lark shrugged her shoulders. "I was just wondering. It seems to me that most of the kids here in Heath just needed someone to fill that slot in the yearbook, and your name was picked out of a hat or something. I was wondering why."

  "Well, why don't you ask them why they call me a freak?" I snapped.

  Lark raised an eyebrow, my challenge doing nothing but boring her. "I did. All I got were ridiculous comic book style explanations that had little to do with anything. You don't have tentacles coming out of your back, you're definitely not green, and you've no mutant powers or anything. I think the only thing freakish I've heard about you is the size of your forehead. Just a little too wide. Kind of Imax-y. Other than that, you're about as normal as they come."

  Graham's posture changed then. His back straightened, and he pushed his shoulders back. I'd seen it a million times after he'd threaten to beat someone up for picking on me and they gave up. It was his peacock pose. "That's nothing new. I've been saying the same thing forever."

  Lark rolled her eyes. What's with you humans and your constant use of the term forever, as if you can comprehend it and all it entails?

  I could tell by the way the tone of her thoughts became dark that she was on the verge of anger. I grabbed Graham's arm and yanked him back into a stride, wanting to get into the car as quickly as possible. Lark's temper was unpredictable. She didn't just run your plain old hot and cold. She was celestially hot and cold. Solar winds hot, and dark side of the moon cold.

  I get your point! Stop with the stupid metaphors already. I feel like you're describing some astrology project.

  Graham started walking quickly, and I followed, keeping my eye on Lark, hoping she wouldn't ask the question out loud again. Heaven knew all she had to do was look in our heads to find out the answer. Why ask when our verbal answers might not add up to what our minds were thinking? Wasn't that counterproductive?

  That's just it. How else am I to judge the integrity of a person if what comes out of their mouths isn't the same as what comes from their minds? You've placed a lot of trust in Graham, despite what he's done to you. I've seen how it's affected you. I can see the scars that your eyes cannot see, but can feel. She wore a grim line on her face that contradicted the softening of her translucent eyes.

  And, I also see how much my brother cares for you. If Graham hurts you again, I fear for his safety. You don't understand how deeply my kind feels when we form an attachment to someone, Grace. It's like one of these trees here. Deep, long roots that dig and wrap themselves firmly into the soil; you humans become our soil. We grow because of you, we thrive because of you. If something poisons that soil, it poisons us. But, unlike these trees, we fight back.

  My eyes blinked twice, understanding what she meant. Only, instead of roots, I saw a single ribbon.

  I saw Lark's head nod. She saw the ribbon in my mind, too.

  We were in Graham's Buick and turning left onto Hopewell Drive before Graham finally spoke. "Some people call Grace a freak because they don't understand how she could have survived the car wreck that killed her mom; no one has been able to explain it and I don't think anyone ever will. Others call her a freak because she's half-white, half-Korean. Now some people call her a freak because she survived the hit and run.

  "No matter what their reasons, the truth is that Grace is called a freak because she's different, and you can't explain what makes her different. She just is."

  I stared at him. It seemed like it hurt him to say those words, like they burned his throat to utter them. I watched as he rubbed the bottom of his eye with his thumb, and then wiped his thumb on his jeans, a dark, thin line forming where his finger touched the fabric. I bit my lip at the obvious difficulty he had with talking about how other people thought of me; He had been one of those people just a month ago, and he didn't like that.

  "But if Grace is a freak, then so am I. I'm a jock who hangs around freaks instead of cheerleaders," he snorted.

  From the back seat, Lark laughed. "Don't forget that now you're chauffeuring blind people, too. You're more of a freak than Grace is."

  Graham nodded, his humor having returned. "That's true. I'm bringing down your stock, Grace. You'll never be homecoming queen now."

  I joined in their amusement, the dark mood lifting from Lark, and the sadness from Graham seeming to fade away, if only for a moment.

  It was amazing what truth could do for someone. Lark had heard nothing but pure honesty from Graham's mouth, the truth as we all knew it, mind reader and humans alike, and that had changed the way she viewed him now. I could see it by the way her eyes seemed a little less opaque; it was as if the fog of bitterness and anger that she kept around her--like some kind of shield from the dishonesty of people--had lifted just a bit.

  I honestly thought he'd lie to me. He surprised me. Nothing surprises me. I might end up not liking it later, but for now, it's amusing.

  My eyebrows raised in shock. Graham had taken Lark by surprise? You can read minds, even the minds of those who can see the future, and you were surprised by Graham?

  I had discovered her weakness, and she didn't like it. But I did. I thoroughly enjoyed my moment, laughing loudly, without caring a bit if in that moment, I really did look like a freak. I didn't know when I'd get another opportunity, as sharp and quick witted as she was, not to mention the fact that she could probably re-break my leg and arm in less time than it took me to get half a blink out.

  It looked like I'd get a reprieve when she leaned back into her seat, her arms folded across her chest, a slow smile creeping across her face. She was amused, too!

  I looked out of the window and realized that we were pulling into the parking lot of the shopping center. "I don't think I've ever been in this mall."

  "I don't think you've ever been in any mall." Graham snorted.

  I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him--it felt much better to punch him in the arm instead. The "ouch" that followed was very satisfying.

  When we pulled up to the curb fronting the mall, I saw that Lark had a small, pink cell phone pressed to her ear. As soon as the car had stopped, she was outside.

  "I'll see you tonight, Grace. Thank you, Graham, for the ride--I'll see you in school on Monday! 'Ciao!" She walked very quickly towards the entrance, practicing great restraint not to just blur into nothingness with the speed she was so used to. If you didn't know it, you'd never have guessed she was blind.

  The mall was far behind us when Graham finally asked the question I knew had plagued him as soon as he'd heard Lark mention seeing me later this evening.

  "I'm going to a wedding with Robert and his family," I answered, my tone making it clear that I wasn't interested in arguing about it.

  I saw the muscles in his neck tighten a bit as he stuck his jaw out, the idea of my going out with Robert obviously not sitting well with him. Well, he could suck on rocks for all I care. It was my first official date with Robert, and nothing was going to ruin it.

  Except for the dress. I groaned. Loudly.

  "What's the matter? Realized I was still here?" G
raham pouted. He actually pouted!

  "I told Robert he could buy me a dress for the wedding."

  It was Graham's turn to laugh this time. "You're letting him buy you a dress?"

  I folded my arms across my chest. "Yes," I answered, indignantly.

  "You're not afraid that he'll get you something that'll make you look--well let's face it, a lot of stuff will--make you look twelve?"

  My lips did funny things as I pondered his question. "I told him no ruffles. Ugh--I don't know anything about dresses--I've never shopped for a dress, and all I know about them is that ruffles are hideous. Oh my God, what did I do? He's going to buy me something that looks like it belongs on a twelve year-old, isn't he?" The feeling of panic bubbled up underneath my skin as we pulled up in front of our house.

  I looked at the watch on my wrist and realized that it was nearly twelve-thirty. I needed to eat something for lunch, and I also needed to lie down and try and calm my nerves. Graham helped me out of the car and walked with me to the front door. I saw that Janice's SUV--which had been gone when we had left--was now back in its spot in the driveway.

  "Well, that's a nice distraction," I muttered. I could focus on how the doctor's appointment went, instead of the impending doom of wearing a dress.

  Graham eyed me suspiciously. "You're actually going to wear it, aren't you?"

  I nodded my head. It was either that or attend the wedding in jeans and my Jack Skellington shirt.

  "I think you'll look beautiful," was his reply.

  Surprise covered my face as I looked at him. "The last time you saw me in a dress was over ten years ago! How would you know whether or not I'd look 'beautiful', as if that were even a possibility?"

  "You forget that yesterday, you were wearing a skirt, and a skirt is, I think, half a dress; you looked beautiful in it, so I'm gonna bet that if you looked beautiful in half a dress, you'll look twice as beautiful in a whole one," Graham said emphatically, his head nodding with every other word.