Falling From Grace (32 page)

I didn’t hear from Robert again after that night in the park.
 
I wish I could have said that I didn’t notice his absence.
 
It wouldn’t have been hard to believe.
 
Both Stacy and Graham made it their life’s mission to spend as much time with me as possible, and whether that was to actually spend time with me or to intentionally get on each other’s nerves, I don’t think I’ll ever know.

Graham was always there in the morning to see how I was doing, and to grab a plate of breakfast…or three.
 
We still hadn’t spoken about what was said in my living room, and I was quite content to let him continue to stew over it if it meant that when the conversations finally did happen, it’d be one that he didn’t walk away from.
 

Stacy had taken to calling just before she left for school to see how I was doing, and they both always arrived immediately after their practices, leaving way after dinner to head home after spending the evening with me.
 
Dad complained that Graham ate enough for half a basketball team, while Janice complained that Stacy could out eat Graham after a full twelve course meal.
 
I just knew both seemed eager to talk to me alone, but never got the chance to because the other one was there.

I spent a great deal of the next week putting together Erica’s soliloquy.
 
During the afternoons before Graham and Stacy dropped by, I would ask Janice to take me to the library.
 
I attempted to do some research for my poetry essay, but I always wound up looking for anything I could about angels, finding mostly artwork and a few random scriptures.
 
What I did find important, I jotted down in a notebook alongside my essay research, and reminded myself to look at it later.

I completed the home and class work assignments that Mr. Branke had brought over on that last Thursday night before returning to school, while Stacy and Graham argued about the baseball game that was on television.
 
I never questioned Graham whether Erica knew that he had been spending so much time at my home.
 
If he wasn’t willing to bring her up, neither would I.
 
But I knew that come Friday afternoon, something was going to change between Graham and I for good, and it would all be based on a five minute dialogue.

With all of the distractions, all of the diversions, all of the conversations about sports, politics, school, my postponed Tae Kwon Do lessons, and all of the refereeing between Graham and Stacy, nothing could keep my mind off of my angel and where he was, what he was doing, and if he was listening to my thoughts about him.
 
But mostly, I worried that he wasn’t.

When I woke up on Friday morning I felt extremely conflicted.
 
I wasn’t sure if I was ready for what lay ahead.
 
The intense scrutiny would start almost immediately, and I didn’t know how to prepare myself for it.
 
In small doses, it was tolerable.
 
I’d dealt with it my entire life.
 
But this was going to be different.
 
This was going to be my first day all over again.
 
I needed to feel confident, but the only thing that did that was an angel, and he wasn’t speaking to me.

After spending an obscene amount of time in the shower trying to see if my entire being could wash down the drain like the soap did, I finally made my way downstairs where breakfast and an anxious Dad would be waiting for me.
 
I saw him look up from his paper when I entered the kitchen and he smiled at me, very pleased that I had made it out of the bathroom with all of my skin intact, albeit far more wrinkled than usual.

I was seated for no more than thirty seconds when Janice had a plate piled high with scrambled eggs and sausage in front of me, a “you’re going to eat everything or else” warning glued to her face.
 
Swallowing whatever remark I was foolish enough to even form in my throat, I reached for the glass of milk she placed next to my right elbow and took a deep gulp.
 
I had already lost one battle to a formidable opponent, and it wasn’t even six thirty yet.
 
How was I going to win the war of Friday if I started out with a loss to a pregnant woman?

I picked up the fork that she handed me and glumly ate the eggs, all the while wondering how I’d be getting to school today.
 
As if he had read my mind, Dad put his paper down.
 
“So, is Graham picking you up or am I going to have to play chauffer?”

I put a forkful of eggs into my mouth to give myself some time to think.
 
I hadn’t asked Graham if he was going to pick me up because I knew that he’d be picking up Erica and that would just be extremely uncomfortable for all of us.
 
And, if I had to be honest with myself, I was still holding out hope that outside, behind Janice’s little SUV, there’d be a monstrous black motorcycle and rider waiting for me.

The absurdity of the image of me in my casts on the back of the motorcycle quickly killed my hope, however.
 
Dad wasn’t going to let me get on the back of some two wheeled death machine when I still looked like the victim of a four wheeled one.
 
I swallowed my eggs and smiled.
 
“I think you’ll be playing chauffer, Dad.”

He smiled back, pleased with that idea.
 
I hadn’t really thought much about how he had reacted to the accident once we came home from the hospital, but I knew that he’d tried to be a lot more attentive, almost to the point of getting on my nerves.
 
He seemed to be trying very hard to not miss a single thing, and I found that to be very comforting.
 
I reached my hand out to pat his as it rested on his coffee mug.

He looked over his paper again, his eyes full of warmth and happiness.
 
“Thank you, Grace.”

After I had completed the herculean task of finishing the food that Janice had placed in front of me, I pulled her aside.
 
“Janice, do you think you have anything that might fit me, so that I don’t have to go to school in sweat pants?”

She seemed shocked that I would ask such a thing, but I knew that the perpetual sixteen-year-old girl in her that exists purely for the sake of all things makeover quickly took over, and she was dragging me upstairs, calling out to Dad to “stay downstairs” because it was “girl time”.
 
We headed towards the room she shared with Dad, and for a brief moment, I couldn’t move.
 
This was the room that my dad had shared with my mom.
 
To go in with Janice seemed like a small betrayal.

I tried to take in a few slow, deep breaths, but instead it seemed like they were more quick gulps of tainted air.
 
Knowing that I couldn’t stall any longer, I finally stepped in, grateful that Janice had not noticed my hesitation; she was too busy digging through her side of the closet for what she mumbled was the “perfect skirt” that had a “perfect cut” and was the “perfect color”.
 
I was certain that I had enough flaws to cancel out the perfection without trying, so I simply let her go on and on about perfect clothes that went with perfect shoes, and needed the perfect accessories.

When she emerged from her closet looking like a sale mad shopper at a doorbuster sale, I almost ran out screaming.
 
She had a gleam in her eye that you only saw in serial killers, sharks, and kids who got perfect scores on the SATs.
 
I was terrified of that look, but remembering that I had asked for it, I just gritted my teeth and pretended that this was simply my getting ready for battle.
 
I was heading to war, and I needed to look the part.

I didn’t dare look in the mirror while Janice stripped, dressed, and primped me until I felt I’d actually shine like a newly waxed car.
 
It was only afterwards, when she stepped to the side so that I could see my reflection in the large dresser mirror that I nearly fell over.

Janice had dressed me in a charcoal gray wool skirt that flared open around my knees just enough to give it some shape.
 
Above that, she had put on me a white, three-quarter-sleeve collared shirt with satin pinstripes.
 
It had a ruffled trim edging the hem where it buttoned up with tiny little black buttons, and was dressed up with a wide dark gray belt.
 
Around my neck, she had placed a simple cameo choker with black ribbon.
 
My hair had been pulled back into a neat ponytail.

I still looked like me.
 
Only more put together.
 
I smiled at my reflection, feeling like a complete and utter idiot and knowing that this was the last thing I should have done, but also knowing that it was too late to change now.

I quickly hobbled into my room to put on the left side of my favorite pair of boots and then went downstairs to shock Dad out of his Dockers.

Noticing that he wasn’t in the kitchen, I went into the living room, but found that he wasn’t there either.
 
I suddenly heard the horn of his car honk and knew that he’d already started the car and was waiting for me outside.

Janice appeared then with my backpack in her hand.
 
“I hope you have a great day back, Grace, and break a leg during your dialogue today.”

I let out a sort of strangled laugh.
 
“I think I already did that part.”
 
The overwhelming feeling to hug her suddenly took over me, and I reached out my arms to grab her quickly.
 
She didn’t let me go that easily.

“I’m very, very glad that you are in my life, Grace.”

In that moment, I knew that I could say it back and mean it.
 
“I’m glad that you’re in my life, too, Janice.”

It was enough for the both of us, but even if it weren’t, the impatient honking of a familiar horn signaled that it was time for me to go.
 
With my bag slung over one shoulder, I reached for the crutches that were had been conspicuously placed near the door.
 
I had hobbled, hopped, and simply walked all throughout the house without using them once since coming home, and I certainly didn’t want to start now.
 
But the illusion of a cast was not as believable without the addition of them so I placed the butts under my arms and lurched out of the door in that familiar and awkward gait one associates with them.

Dad had pulled the car out of the garage and the front passenger door was open, waiting for me.
 
Trying to be as graceful as possible in Janice’s skirt and blouse, I tottered to the car, quickly trying to figure out how to get into it without falling flat on my face.
 
I contemplated tossing the crutches into the car and then casually climbing in but with my luck, I’d probably end up taking out a window or two. I also wasn’t sure if I could sit down in the seat properly in a skirt while holding onto the crutches at the same time, so doing that first and then pulling the crutches in behind me was also out of the question.

As I approached the car door, I realized I’d have to simply ask Dad for help.
 
“Dad could you-”
 
The movement in the car killed off whatever it was I had planned to say.
 
The rear passenger door opened and in a fraction of a second, it was like I’d stepped out of reality and into a dream because Robert was there, his hand at my elbow, slowly removing the crutch from beneath my arm, smiling and looking down at me with his shimmering eyes.

“You look beautiful,” he said softly, and I couldn’t do anything but stare, my mouth gaping open, my heart beating fiercely in my chest; my mind was yearning to hear his voice again, only in a more intimate way, in the way it had grown accustomed to and now missed dearly.

I’ve missed you, too.

I beamed.
 
I knew it from the way he looked at me, his smile a mixture of amusement and pleasure, to the way Dad groaned loudly from the driver’s seat, annoyed and disappointed.

“Okay, let’s get you inside before your dad changes his mind about taking me along and leaves me stranded.”
 
He said it loudly enough that so that Dad could hear him, even though I knew that he could probably get to school faster than we could in the car.
 
Incredibly, my smile grew wider.

I held onto his hand as I lowered myself into the passenger seat, allowing him to remove the other crutch and place my right leg into the car. The cast prevented me from bending it, so it just sort of stuck out at an awkward angle, causing me to lean uncomfortably to one side.
 
Robert quickly reached for the seat release to push it all the way back, immediately allowing me to sit more comfortably.

When he pulled my seatbelt across my chest and snapped it into place, I caught a whiff of his angelic scent and had to bite my tongue to keep from groaning
—
it smelled so…heavenly.
 
And the hell of it was that I could do nothing about it.
 
Not while Dad was sitting right next to me, his eyes glaring in response to Robert’s forwardness.
 
Not while I was so unsure of where exactly Robert and I stood.
 
I just bit my tongue harder, and stared straight ahead of me, not moving or breathing until Robert had closed my door and wedged himself into the seat behind me, his leg room severely amputated by my seat’s new position.