Falling From Grace

by SL Naeole

  I stared at him. "Was I supposed to? I will if it'll make you feel better." I opened my mouth, practicing the motions I would use to produce one.

  A pair of identical creases formed at the corners of his eyebrows, framing a deeper indentation between them. "With bruising like this, you should be experiencing extreme pain, Grace. Look at your hand." He dangled my hand in front of me like a carrot, waiting for the horse of shock to lead me forward towards recognition.

  "It doesn't hurt," I said simply.

  His mouth took on the shape of a beautiful grimace. He groaned when he heard my thoughts. And he groaned when he realized that I knew he wasn't pleased. Well, it did look beautiful!

  "Grace, do you understand how seriously strange this is?" Robert snapped.

  The tone in his voice caused me to shrink back a bit, pulling my hand with me. "Strange is a relative term, don't you think? I mean, I'm standing in the middle of a wedding party for people who work for mythical creatures that aren't even supposed to exist. I've been hit by a car and left for dead, yet here I am, alive and well-"

  "With a purple hand," Robert held my wrist back up, as if to emphasize his point.

  I snatched it back and continued, "-alive and well and in a dress. In my world, that last fact is the epitome of strange. It beats a purple hand any day of the week, so no, I don't understand how strange that is because right now, the only thing that seems strange to me is why you're just staring at it instead of healing it."

  I heard a few murmurs of approval in the audience that surrounded us, and I waited, dangling my hand in his face this time. "Are you going to help me out, or do I have to ask your Mom to do it? I know she can heal a little, and if I'm not screaming in pain, it can't be that bad."

  "Maybe he forgot how?" a voice I recognized as Sam's said quietly.

  Perhaps it was because it was Sam that had said it, perhaps it was because it was said in front of so many people, but I began to feel quite guilty in making Robert the object of ridicule when it was my own foolishness that had caused me to be in this mess in the first place. I looked up at him, not wanting to see embarrassment, or hurt in his eyes--or worse...nothing at all. Instead, they were liquid, flowing, and he was smiling.

  I snap at you and you're concerned about how I'm feeling. I don't think I deserve to have you in my life, Grace, but I'm ever grateful for it.

  I held my hand out to him, nicely this time. "Could you fix my hand, please?" I held my breath as he kissed it, starting at the tips of my fingers, and moving to the grape-like objects that could only be my knuckles. He turned my hand over and blew into my palm. His warm breath caused me to shiver, and I thought that to be a strange reaction. Strange indeed.

  He closed my hand, and I watched amazed as the colors seemed to wash away, like paint, from my hand. It was like looking at a kaleidoscope, the changing shapes, patterns, and colors swirling beneath my skin. When the last of the purple had finally faded away, an eruption of applause surrounded us. The grins and praise from everyone around us were a testament to the gift that he possessed.

  I looked at Robert, sure that he'd be pleased with the reaction of the crowd, but instead, he looked upset. Panicky even. "Robert, what's wrong?"

  He pulled me to him, and dragged me towards something. Or was it someone? No. It was both. It was a wheelchair.

  "Ellie, Grace and I have to leave now. I came to tell you goodbye, but before that, I wanted to tell you that you have impacted my life in so many ways. You were my first true human friend. You have given me something that I couldn't have been able to gain on my own, and I will always be grateful to have known an incredible person like you."

  He got down on both knees, leaned in and kissed her. I turned away, the moment being too private for me to witness. He was saying goodbye to her, and I knew what that meant. Whatever it was that they needed to share now, I couldn't take that away from them with my feelings of jealousy or inadequacy. I would have hated myself for it.

  It was only when I felt Robert's hand squeeze mine did I turn around to say my own farewell. And the tears that I did not know were there, did not expect, suddenly started to spill over. "Thank you, Ellie, for taking care of Robert all this time." I didn't know what else to say.

  She reached her arms up for me, and I went into them, allowing her to embrace me, comfort me. If I did not know that she was looking forward to her fate, I would have found the situation to be quite ironic, but I knew better. Instead, I felt the selfish sadness that I would never get to hear the thousands of stories of her time with Robert that I knew she had stored in her sharp mind.

  "Thank you, Grace, for ensuring me that Robert has finally found his home," she whispered into my ear, her voice so soft, I strained to hear it, but knew that even if I had not, each word had somehow burned itself into my mind, the imprint of the first memory as she had called it.

  She kissed my forehead, like a grandmother would, and then let me go. She looked at Robert, who was still kneeling on the ground, and smiled, "So Sam's taking me home?"

  He nodded, smiling sadly. "Yes. You don't have anything to worry about tonight."

  She nodded, her face peaceful. "That's good. I'm done with worrying. Especially about you. You be happy, Robbie. And you take care of this one. She's special. I can tell just by looking at her."

  When she winked at me, I couldn't help but smile and wink back. It was exactly what she wanted, and she beamed at me, her blue eyes twinkling like sapphire stars in her face. "Goodbye, Grace. May life always bring you unexpected happiness."

  Puzzled, I asked her why.

  She waved as Robert pulled me away, her voice trailing behind me, "Because that's exactly what love is dear."

  I continued to stare back at her, even as Robert pulled me away, until I could no longer see her face among the crowd. I wanted to yank my hand free and run back to her, to ask her more questions, to be there when her time came...to do something other than walk away knowing that I would never see her again.

  As we approached the gravel parking lot, Robert's pace slowed. He searched among the cars for the one that had brought us here, and, finding it, tapped on the glass. A movement could be seen in the front cab, and I realized that the driver had fallen asleep.

  "Why didn't he come and join the party?" I asked, shocked that he could have been left out intentionally.

  Robert smiled knowingly, "Because he used to date Hannah, and that would have been quite awkward, don't you think?"

  I nodded my head. "Quite."

  The driver, who I later learned was named Thomas, emerged from the driver's side door and opened the rear passenger side door for us. I thanked him and slid in, muttering to myself about how unnecessary it was, having someone else open the door for you when you had two--no--four perfectly useful hands that could have done it themselves.

  As soon as the door was shut and the driver was inside, we were moving, leaving. To me, it felt like we were running away. I didn't like that. I had been doing that for too long now, and I knew that the problems only followed you where you went.

  "Robert, why did we have to leave?" I looked at the clock on the dashboard console, noticing that it read fifteen minutes after ten. "We still have over an hour..."

  His face looked so composed, I thought I'd get some feedback that would have helped to lead the way to answering some of the remaining questions that I had. Instead, what I got was, "Thank you for your input, Captain Obvious."

  I looked at him, annoyed at his lame attempt at sarcasm. So annoyed, I didn't even stop myself as the reflex response I was so used to uttering whenever Graham had attempted the same thing simply came out.

  "You're quite welcome, General No Shit."

  Judging by the intake of his breath, I knew that was the last thing he had been expecting of me, which meant that my mind had blocked itself off again, leaving him in the lurch. Either that or he was in some corner with the mangled remains of some other thoughts that I hadn't really been concentrating on too much. I was in th
e winning corner. And I wasn't backing down.

  "I don't think that's very ladylike language," he said, his voice flat, his eyes cold steel.

  I folded my arms across my chest, ready for this match. "I don't care if it's ladylike or not. I was provoked by someone who isn't acting like a gentleman so I don't think it's necessary for me to act like a lady."

  "I am indeed a gentleman!"

  "It's certainly not gentlemanly to drag your date out of a wedding reception before she's had a chance to say goodbye to the bride and groom. It's also rude and just plain selfish, so I suggest you correct your own behavior before you start chastising me about mine. And another thing, it's not angelic behavior either," I huffed, and folded my arms across my chest, angry and hurt that he had cut my evening short without explaining why.

  He glared at me, his eyes turning harder with each breath that passed between us. "What you know about what is and isn't angelic behavior wouldn't even fill one chapter of an encyclopedia that expands the entire history of this world."

  "And whose fault would that be, eh Mr. 'I can't tell you'? It's okay though, because encyclopedias come in disk form now and there is only one of those," I said in retort. And it felt good. Damn good.

  He glowered at me, but I wasn't budging.

  "Why did we leave?" I demanded.

  Silence.

  "Thomas? Could you turn the car around, please? I'd like to go back to the wedding," I said loudly, all the while keeping my eyes glued to Robert's.

  "Mr. Bellegarde?" came the hesitant voice from the driver's seat.

  Though he didn't say anything, I knew that he had said something to the driver because we did not turn around. We sped up instead.

  I cannot believe that you are ruining this evening for me.

  That seemed to soften the hardness in his eyes. His rigid posture relaxed, even if only infinitesimally. It was a start.

  Why did we leave so early, Robert? What was so awful?

  He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. I watched as they made little paths through the black strands, and my fingers itched to trace those paths. Even as angry as I was, he still affected me so profoundly; I had to double my efforts to focus on why I was so upset otherwise I'd be just another one of those love sick twits who fawned over him in French class.

  I heard it. I knew what sound it was because it was the only sound in the entire car. It was the only sound that would have made me forget for a moment that I was angry at him for taking me away so early.

  It was a chuckle.

  "Grace, sometimes I think your mind is simply not equipped to handle all you put it through."

  I glared at him. "Insulting my mind isn't exactly going to win you any points with me, Robert."

  He sighed, laughed once more, then sighed again. He leaned forward and grabbed a hold of my hand. Crap, I'd forgotten to keep them out of his reach. He laughed this time.

  "Grace, I'm sorry that we left the party early. If it makes you feel better, then please know that I have known Hannah since she was born, and the last thing she had on her mind was our leaving without telling her goodbye."

  I tugged at my hand, but it wasn't budging. "It doesn't matter now, does it? We're not going back." I felt my lower lip stick out involuntarily.

  "No, we're not going back," he said softly, scooting closer to me, his movements slow so that I could see it happening.

  I scooted away, "Are you taking me home then?"

  It was like a game of scoot tag. He scooted. "I'm taking you to my home."

  He was going to win the game, because I couldn't move. "What do you mean, you're taking me to your home?"

  He moved as close to me as he dared, and that was pretty darn close, before he answered my question. "I mean, I'm taking you to see my home. You had expressed some doubt as to whether or not one existed, did you not?"

  I huffed, "Yeah! To your sister!" How had he known?

  "Angel," he said, as if that were an answer to all of my silent accusations.

  I turned my head, not wanting to look into his eyes, not wanting to see the hypnotizing ripples that were ever present in those liquid pools that only existed when he was happy. I'd lose my train of thought if I took even one look. I knew it as sure as I knew my name.

  Hearing my thoughts, I felt him scoot away, letting go of my hand as he did so. Only when I felt it was safe to turn my face did I do so. His face was less than an inch away from mine.

  Gotcha.

  The full impact of silver--liquid fire, hot and flowing hit me hard in that place in your belly that doesn't exist for food, but for something else entirely. It exists solely to possess the feeling that it barely held in check right then. I don't know what it was. I don't think it has a name. I only know that it was there, familiar yet not, and it felt like it was boiling, ready to spill over at any moment. I knew it was messing with my breathing, because I was getting dizzy, and I didn't think I'd be able to remember how to breathe normally until he was at a safer distance.

  "Robert, you--you're too close. You need to give me some space," I panted.

  He shook his head, but did move back a bit. I whispered my thanks, and took a deep breath, luxuriating in it, and feeling saddened by it at the same time. Robert frowned in confusion. "What's the matter, Grace?"

  "I don't know how to explain it. Can't you figure out by reading my thoughts?"

  "If you can't figure out your own thoughts, how am I supposed to?"

  I sighed, knowing that he was right. I turned my head and looked out of the car window, absentmindedly reaching for him with my hand. I had just rejected his nearness, and yet I still needed to feel him, feel he was there in some physical way, no matter how confusing it may have seemed. He accepted my hand, accepted me lacing my fingers through his, and accepted my sigh of contentment as the car slowed down and turned into a driveway that was lined on both sides by large rock walls.

  It was unusual, to say the least. Most homes here had wooden fences, if they were fenced in at all, but that wasn't what made the rock wall stand out. It was the color of the rocks that did. In the darkness, I could still tell that they were a bright white, like the color of new snow. "Are they painted?" I asked, not taking my eyes off of the gleaming white expanse that bordered the car now on both sides. They were tall. I wasn't good at measuring by sight, but I wouldn't doubt that they stood taller than I did at five-seven".

  "No, they're not painted. And they're six and a half feet tall," Robert's voice said, answering my unasked question.

  I turned to look out the front of the vehicle to see where we were headed, and to see if the white walls would ever end. I laughed so loud, I startled the poor driver, his response causing the car to jerk to a stop.

  Where the walls ended, there stood two statues. Of angels blowing on trumpets. Wearing togas.

  "Are you kidding me?" I knew my laughter was growing louder, and at any second, I was sure I'd throw in a snort or two, but the irony was too much for me to deal with. As we pulled past the statues, and apparently a wrought iron gate that I had not seen, I wiped away the tears that had come with my spontaneous laughter. "Why do you have angel statues in front of your gate?"

  He was smiling, amused that I had found the situation humorous. "Too obvious?"

  I nodded, trying now to contain the rampant giggles that had taken over my body.

  "Well, it's the fact that it's so obvious that works to our advantage. Aside from a few subtle differences, we don't look much different from humans, nor do we behave much differently either. We're basically hiding in plain sight," he said, his voice sounding very self-satisfied, as though it were some great coup to look the way he did.

  "You do know that the differences that you have are far from subtle," I started, looking him over to catalogue just the few obvious ones I could spot right away. "For one thing, your eyes are not human in the slightest. No one's eyes look like yours. Then there's your face. It's perfect. Nothing is too this or that. Everything is proportionate, symmet
rical.

  "There's the way your voice seems to put everyone around them into a trance. I know you're not doing it on purpose. You just...do it. Lark calls it your charm. When I talk, people want to cover their ears and run away screaming, but with you, they'd jump off a bridge in their grandmother's underwear if you said it would be an interesting sight to see."

  He smiled at that last bit, and then pressed his hand to my mouth, "Shh. We're here."

  The car had stopped in front of a large, white home. There was a simple, dark blue door in an overly large frame. It was flanked by two wrought iron sconces that were brightly lit. Robert waited until the driver had put the car in park, and then opened the door, not wanting to wait for the driver to do so himself. He was still holding my hand, and was pulling me across the seat until I was outside, my sandaled feet landing on concrete pavers that crisscrossed beneath them.

  I took my time looking at the house. It was a two story, with two large bay windows in front, one on each side of the front door. The windows on the second floor had what looked like dark blue shutters framing the paned windows, with the window directly over the door being the only one without. I counted them, for some reason, noting that one window seemed out of place, as it extended over what could be a garage?

  Robert tugged on my hand. "Don't you want to see what it looks like on the inside?

  I shook my head, suddenly feeling very nervous.

  He looked at me, perplexed. "Why?"

  "Because we're alone," I said shyly.

  That seemed to please him a great deal, because he dazzled me with a brilliant smile. "You have my promise that I will behave like an absolute gentleman, Grace."

  And, knowing that he was telling the truth, I gladly accepted the hand that he then offered me as he led me into the house with the blue door.

  SHORTCOMINGS

  My tour of Robert's house had been conducted as though I were a potential buyer, and he an agent looking to earn himself a very hefty commission. He waxed poetic about everything, from the floors to the ceilings; even the switches for the lights were praised. We ended the tour in the kitchen, and I was thoroughly impressed with it; it seemed larger than the entire lower half of my house.