Inside Out

by Grayson Cole

  Chapter 16

  On the night before Tracey and Garrett left for Christmas break, they exchanged gifts. Because she had already handed in all her work, Tracey volunteered to make dinner that night. By the time Garrett got into the house, her whole body tingled with hypersensitivity. She was breathing fast and the adrenaline was pumping. She wanted so much for that night to be beautiful and for it to please him. Lately, she hadn’t really done anything, it seemed, that pleased him. She knew she loved him, though she had never told him. She knew he loved her, though he had stopped saying it. But it wasn’t enough.

  More than anything, she wanted this night to be special. So she wore that short, fitted black dress for him, despite feeling a little heavy. She flat-ironed her hair and let it hang against her shoulders the way he liked. She wore heels and makeup.

  Standing there in the living room in a coal black suit, a soft grey shirt beneath, a bottle of champagne in one hand, and flowers in the other, he stared at Tracey long and hard. “Baby.” He swallowed. “Baby, you look so good.”

  “How’d you do?” She asked him about his paper, barely recognizing her own voice.

  “Fine,” he answered absently as he came forward to kiss her softly. They had always been so aggressive with each other and, now that she was getting used to the mild cardiac disturbance she got when he kissed her hard, he was changing things. Now he was kissing her softly and she felt like someone had a jackhammer smashing her in the sternum.

  “I’m sorry I’m late.” He handed her the bouquet of fragrant wildflowers. She wondered briefly if anyone could get fresh wildflowers in December anywhere else but in the South.

  “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “You always notice,” he answered wryly. She recalled that first night he’d come in late from intramurals and how angry she’d been.

  “There’s dinner in the kitchen.”

  “I can’t get over how beautiful you look.”

  Tracey smiled. She couldn’t help it.

  “Are you blushing?”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “You are! You sure picked a funny time to get shy.” He couldn’t stop staring at Tracey. She felt giddy. He patted her on the bottom and said, “Hey, Angie told me what you got her for Christmas.”

  Earlier that day, when she was handing her the envelope, she told Tracey, “I would just like to thank you in advance. I already know that this is going to be an excellent present because you have such good taste. But if it isn’t,” she raised her voice, “then by God—”

  “Just open the present, silly.” Tracey laughed. She had only known her for a couple of weeks, but the more Tracey got to know her, the funnier and more adorable Angie got.

  “My God, you didn’t do this. Not for me, you didn’t!”

  “I believe I did.”

  She nearly tackled Tracey as she hugged her. “Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!” Angie squealed as she jumped around the living room. “You don’t understand, Tracey. Fitts & Mahler is one of the best architectural firms in the country. They are at the very least, the best out of the South. I would be honored to kiss the feet of anyone there. I couldn’t say ‘no’ to this. How? How?”

  “My mom does a lot of work with that firm. I’ve known them forever. I beat Brennie Mahler up in the first grade.” Tracey chuckled, remembering. “They needed an intern.”

  Afterward, Tracey opened Angie’s present. Wrapped in a soft silk scarf that faded from eggplant to lilac was a book of Tibetan proverbs.

  “You know what she got me?” Garrett asked. Tracey shook her head. “A hardbound copy of the writings of Frederick Douglass.”

  “Just a little heavy-handed of her.”

  “A little.” He kissed her again. “Where’s my present?”

  Tracey smiled and handed him the only box beneath her tree.

  While she was trying to figure out what to get him for Christmas, extravagant things crossed her mind. She thought about a cruise or a laptop or a car or something. She was going through a guilt thing at the same time she was going through an insane love thing. She wanted to get him something that would make him forget all the tension between them. Unfortunately, the gift she ultimately decided on made her even more guilty. He opened it. It was a supple, chic brown leather jacket made of the softest Italian leather she could find. It never really got cold enough for a heavy leather jacket, but this one he could wear all year round if he really wanted to. And she thought he would look a lot less “frat boy” in it as opposed to the bomber. A lot more metropolitan. This was why she felt guilty. Still, his eyes were big as he pulled it out. He looked like a little boy as he held it. He slipped it on. He definitely looked like a full-grown man. Tracey didn’t know he would look so damn good in it. Guilt gone.

  At that moment her heart started breaking in her chest. Garrett went through the pocket of the jacket he’d taken off and produced a box that couldn’t be anything but a ring box. Tracey started shaking. Her whole body just started shaking. She took the box in trembling hands, already thinking to herself that she had to find some way to give it back to him. She didn’t want to give it back, but she certainly couldn’t accept it, no matter how desperately she wanted to say yes. She felt tears welling up and she could barely open the box.

  When she managed it, she started bawling out of just… The ring was an amethyst surrounded by citrines. Her birthstone surrounded by his. The lilac and gold gems were set in a thick gold band and the ring looked like an antique. She took it and held it in the palm of her hand and just cried like a baby. Finally, he took the ring from her palm and slipped it onto the ring finger of her right hand. The way he looked at her as he put that ring on her finger said more to her than the position. She couldn’t breathe. She grabbed onto him and kissed him so that he could give her life.

  Afterward, they shared a virtually silent meal. He cleaned up the dishes, and Tracey waited on him with remote in hand, pretending to watch television. He walked in and gently took it from her. He turned off the set, and then took her into the bedroom laid her on the bed. He pulled his shirt over his head then lay down next to her. He rubbed her cheek with the backs of his fingers and said, “I’m officially off the lease at Woodlands.”

  Tracey swallowed. Whatever her parents would think if they found out, whatever the world would think, it just didn’t matter then.

  “I’m glad.”

  They lay there in silence until he put his arms around her and squeezed tight. Tracey held him hard and for some reason wanted to cry. “Tracey, I love you,” he whispered.

  She whispered back, “I love you, too.” It was as if those words had to be kept in hushed tones so that there was no possibility of anyone else ever hearing them. But Tracey didn’t want to think about that, and she didn’t have to because he was kissing her softly again, and making love to her like a man in love.

  * * *

  The following morning, Monica stopped by to give Tracey her gift before she went to her parents’. Tracey had completely forgotten she was coming and so, even though Garrett had cleaned up her kitchen the night before, a champagne bottle and wrapping paper were still laying in the living room. Moni noticed.

  “Girl, my feelings are hurt. Looks like you had a party here last night and didn’t invite me.” Though she was smiling as she spoke, her voice told Tracey she truly was disappointed.

  “No, it was really just my study group. We met over here last night and gave each other some gag gifts, that’s all.”

  “Oh,” she answered, but hurt and suspicion still creased her brow.

  They exchanged presents then. “I didn’t know what to get you,” Moni complained. “You have everything! So I have to admit that Rico picked it.”

  Tracey started laughing even before she finished unwrapping the box. She leaned over to hug Moni, still laughing. “Why on earth did he get me a handheld gaming system?”

  “He said he saw you playing video games with the kids. You looked like you were having fun. Besides, he enjo
ys his, too.”

  “I was, and you’re right, I don’t have one. Woo-wee, I can’t believe you got me this. I love it. It’s going home with me.”

  “So you like it? I can take it back if you don’t.”

  “No,” Tracey yelped, more pleased than she should have been to get the system. She got three games with it to boot. “I want it! Open yours.”

  She opened her present, an envelope. “Oh, my! Damn, Rico’s gonna die! Thank you, Tracey!” She hugged Tracey and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Every time I come over there, you and Rico are arguing about this, so I’m helping you out. Now he has to do it.” Tracey had decided on twelve weeks of ballroom dancing lessons with a Latin specialist. “And take these for the little ones. Give them my love.”

  * * *

  When she was a teenager living at home, it drove Tracey crazy that her mother was always in her room doing something. She was always scared Carolyn was in there reading her diary or snooping for God knows what. By the time she went away to college, Tracey was over that. As nosy as she was, her mother had a serious respect for the privacy of others, even her daughter’s. She came in there because it was her way. Compelled to assess the aesthetic, she was always changing color schemes, changing styles, changing everything in the house. She’d gone through every style except French Provincial. “I can’t stand French Provincial!” she’d said. Whatever the genre, she always refined it to her own clean style.

  Now Tracey’s room was completely blue. Almost electric blue. The hardwood floor was now stained blue. The walls were covered in light blue satin with a fleur-de-lis design that appeared when you moved a certain way. The dresser was blue. The chaise positioned under a window and beside the television, was blue. The table the TV sat on was blue. Tracey’s bed, which was thankfully the same bed she had always had and always loved, was now covered in linens of bright, robin’s egg blue with muted blue stripes. The only other colors in the place were some hints of white and silver. It was gorgeous, fit for a magazine, but not for a person’s actual bedroom. Shrugging, Tracey reminded herself that no matter what color the lines, that was the most wonderful bed ever created by man, and it called to her. She went to lie down. She didn’t expect to sleep into the next day.

  * * *

  “Nice to see you decided to join the living,” her mother said to her before cutting into a pancake. Carolyn sat at the table in the kitchen wearing a soft yellow and red floral shirt over dark green yoga pants. The sun filtered through the window into a room completely decorated in forest green, lemon, and tomato. Completely coordinated with the room, she looked perfect, as usual.

  Tracey grunted at her in response. As soon as her mother got tired of wearing green to breakfast, she’d probably change the kitchen again. How practical was that?

  “You must have been very tired,” her mother started again. Regular old pleasant words, but Tracey knew her mother. She was like a bull scratching at the ground.

  “I was,” Tracey answered, sitting down next to her mother. “Thank you, Petey.”

  Petey, the jack of all trades at their house since Tracey was little, set a warm plate of eggs, bacon, and grits in front of her. He knew she saved her pancakes for last.

  “You’ve been tired a lot lately, apparently. You’ve been too tired to come home in the past three months. You’ve been too tired to call like you should. And I mean on a day besides Thanksgiving. You’ve been too tired for a lot of things. I hope you’re not too tired to graduate this spring.”

  “Mama—”

  “Don’t Mama me. Eat your breakfast.”

  “I’m a grown woman—”

  “Don’t tell me what you are. I’m the one that gave birth to you almost twenty-five years ago. You would think that a grown woman would be a little more thoughtful. Now eat your breakfast.”

  Tracey finally dug in, but her mother kept watching her. “Slow down, Tracey. You’re eating like you’re starving and I can tell by the two or three extra pounds that you aren’t starving.”

  “Mama!”

  She shrugged one shoulder and tried to assuage Tracey’s outrage by saying, “You’re fine, baby, fine.”

  She was surprised when her mother only raised an eyebrow when Tracey went back upstairs to lie down again.

  * * *

  On Christmas Day Tracey opened her present from her daddy, which was an envelope. Inside, she found two round trip tickets and travel packets for a trip to Paris next September. She squealed.

  “Shouldn’t I be getting this later on in the year, Daddy?”

  “Hey, if you knew you were going to get a trip anyway, what was the point of waiting? You’ll get something else for graduation, girl. Now come over here and hug my neck.” She threw her arms around him.

  Her first thought was going with Garrett. Then it occurred to her that there was no way Garrett was going to be able to go to Paris with her. First, her parents would want to know, of course, who she was taking. Second, she didn’t think he would accept the trip, even if indirectly, from her parents without them knowing about their relationship. She would have to take someone else. She thought of Monica. She might go, but she did have three children to take care of. Tracey thought of Angie; Angie would go and they would have fun. But again, how would Tracey explain her to her parents? A friend she met at school? Maybe. Lucky for Tracey, she didn’t have to make that decision right then.

  Her mother gave her a new laptop, then promptly told her she expected her to go to church with her on Sunday. Yeah, well, even a Christmas gift from her had its price.

  “You are going with me to Colleen’s tomorrow, right, Tracey?”

  “Yeah, what time?”

  “I told her we’d be there around ten.”

  “Breakfast first?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I’m gonna go to bed now.”

  “Goodnight, baby.” She soothed and stroked Tracey’s hair before she left.

  Nearing her bedroom, she heard the sounds of Grapple Arena III coming from her room. That was the fighting game she’d gotten with the gaming system. She slipped inside and shook her head as she saw her father in front of her television. The adapter from the handheld game projected the game onto the TV screen. She sat down on the loveseat next to him to watch him play the game.

  “Addictive, isn’t it?”

  “Hush, Tracey, I’m tryin’ to do somethin’ here,” he gritted out between jerks. When he finally lost a match he turned to his daughter and put his arm around her shoulder. “Don’t tell your mama you saw me in here doing this. She thinks I’m too old.”

  “Well, you are.”

  “Aw, hush, Tracey.” He leaned back against the seat. “It’s good to have you home, baby girl.”

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been home much this semester. I’ve been real busy.”

  “Socially, huh?” Tracey smiled sheepishly. “Well, that’s understandable. I’m glad you’ve made friends this year. You’re a young woman with a bright future. You need to make connections.”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m one of your students, Daddy,” she told him.

  “Speaking of students, how are things going with Alexander as your faculty advisor?”

  “I don’t know. That’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “What?”

  “What do you really think about him?”

  “Well, professionally, I have a lot of respect for him. He’s been able to conquer adversity in that he’s at a white university in one of the whitest law programs in America and yet he’s managed to be successful. He’s kept his identity intact and his dignity.”

  “I guess that answers my question.”

  “You don’t like him?”

  Daddy was smirking. He could always read her. “No, it’s not that. I do like him. I was just curious.”

  “Travis!” They both turned towards the door.

  “That’s my cue. I’m going to bed now, baby girl. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
He hugged her with one arm and kissed her on the cheek before he went out of her room, shutting her door.

  Her bed looked like a cloud waiting to accept her. Still, she didn’t sleep well. When she didn’t drift off after an hour or so, she took out her cell phone and sent a text.

  * * *

  Tracey sat in a cream leather salon chair wrapped from head to toe in a cream robe. Her wet hair, infused with some sort of deep conditioning lotion, was wrapped in a plastic bag as she sat under a dryer. Breathing deeply, she watched her Aunt Colleen chatting with one patron and another. Tracey watched her move with authority. Aunt Colleen always moved with authority, always knew what she wanted and where she was and who she was. Tracey admired her for that. Tracey had a lot to think about. Once upon a time, she had thought she knew those things, too.

  Tracey wondered what Garrett was doing then. Was she as much in his thoughts as he was in hers? What were they going to do? They were both graduating in May. He would go his way and Tracey was going to have to go hers, right? The thought caused her physical pain. She pressed a hand to her stomach. She was hoping like hell Mama wouldn’t notice as she came toward her swathed in her own robe. But because she had that mother-type sixth sense, she did.

  “What’s wrong, Tracey?”

  “Nothing.” She sniffled, trying to be strong.

  Carolyn stared at her and said, “Come on. Let’s go to the restroom.”

  “Ma, I’m fine,” Tracey protested. But her mother turned off the dryer and dragged her away, mumbling something barely comprehensible about hormones. If Tracey didn’t follow her, she would think her daughter disrespectful.

  In the bathroom, Tracey looked under the stall doors. There was no one there. No one to save her. She started to cry even harder. Even as she was pulled into her mother’s arms, she knew she couldn’t tell her mother what was wrong. Of course, Carolyn would tell Tracey she loved her daughter no matter what, that as long as Tracey was happy, she was happy. She would say everything Tracey needed to hear from her. And she would probably think she meant it. But right after, she would tell Tracey what the rest of the world would think. She would start every sentence by clarifying, “Now, I’m not talking about me, because I love you.” She would tear down everything she’d built up. She would tell her father, who wouldn’t waste the time with pleasantries.