Falling From Grace (59 page)

“Two weeks from now, you’ll be allowed to see her every other day at the house, and you may take her out during the weekends, but she must be home by eleven, regardless of what the function.
 
I will want to meet your parents, of course, and discuss what happened with them so that they can make the proper decisions regarding how they feel you should be punished.
 
And I want a number where I can reach you should anything stupid like this happens again.”

I started to say something, but Robert squeezed my hand, a warning.
 
Instead, he spoke, “All of that sounds perfectly acceptable, reasonable, and just, sir.
 
Mr. Shelly, if I may.
 
I was wondering if it would be alright if I took Grace to and from school, so that she wouldn’t have to walk or ride her bicycle there.”

Dad brought a hand to his chin and rubbed it, contemplating the suggestion.
 
“I guess that would be alright.
 
Are you going to be doing so on that bike of yours out there?” he motioned with his head towards the door.

Robert’s smile was cocky, but he shook his head.
 
“If you’d prefer I pick her up in a car, I have one of those available as well.
 
I simply ride the bike because it’s cheap on gas.”

The notion that Robert was thinking of economy on something that looked like it cost more than Dad’s car did new was lost on Dad, as he appreciated any sign of frugality.
 
“What kind of car do you own, Robert?”

I suddenly became the third wheel as Robert leaned forward to answer, “Well, since my eighteenth birthday just passed a couple of weeks ago, I received a car from my mother as a gift.”

Intrigued, Dad leaned forward, too.
 
“What was it?”

“A Charger, sir.”

“What model year?”

“The latest one, sir.”

Dad whistled.
 
Dad never whistles.
 
“That’s a very nice gift.
 
What made her choose that one?
 
I would have thought that you’d prefer one of those European models.”

Robert smiled.
 
“Because it’s an American car.
 
Buy American, that’s what we’re encouraged to do, right?”
 
His British accent never seemed more prominent than it did at that moment, when the word “American” passed through his lips.
 
The tone was the same one he had every time he said the word “human”; it seemed like he was emphasizing the word to hint to us that he was different.

Whatever the reason, Dad seemed impressed by his answer, and they continued to discuss the virtues of American made vehicles while I sat silent and entertained myself by staring at my fingernails.
 
Leaving a girl alone in her thoughts was dangerous as I wondered when it was that I had stopped chewing them, because for the first time in years, they looked healthy.
 
Everything looked healthy.
 
My skin this morning had looked pink and flushed, as opposed to the slightly dull and pallid it had always been.
 
My eyes seemed brighter, my hair was, for lack of a better word, glossy, and my lips looked…like they had had their first kiss.

I brought my fingers to my lips and remembered how careful that first kiss had been.
 
I pressed my fingers against them a bit harder, remembering the second kiss and how less careful it had been, and how controlled Robert had been while I seemed a veritable mess.
 
It didn’t matter that he had the age and experience to be patient, and keep his emotions contained, while I was new to everything.
 
I doubted that I’d ever have felt such an intense heat rushing through me with anyone else as I did with Robert.

“What’s the matter, Grace?
 
Are you feeling nauseated?”

Dad’s question caught me off guard, and my hand dropped.
 
“What?”

“You look a bit flushed, Grace.
 
Perhaps you should lie down.”

I looked from Dad to Robert, confusion written all over my face.
 
Robert stood up, his eyes sparkling with humor, while Dad’s was filled with concern.
 
“I guess I will be leaving now, Mr. Shelley.
 
Thank you, for allowing me to pick Grace up from school.
 
I shall see you in the morning, Grace.”

I watched as he left, unable to say anything.
 
I finally whispered a soft “bye” after I heard the door close, knowing that he’d hear it, even if I barely did.
 
It didn’t take long before Stacy and Janice walked in, taking Robert’s departure as their cue that all was clear.
 
I didn’t know what to say to either of them.
 
Stacy wasn’t even supposed to be here anymore, but she wasn’t aware of that yet.

“So, I heard you’re a free bird.
 
No more broken wing, eh?” Stacy joked as she sat down next to me, filling up the void that Robert had left behind.

I nodded my head, and looked at Dad, waiting for him to tell her she had to leave, or explain the conditions of my grounding.
 
He seemed to be waiting for me to do the same.
 
Sighing and rolling my eyes, I turned to Stacy.
 
“I’m kinda grounded, Stacy, and I can’t have any friends over for the next two weeks so we’re going to have to cut this visit short.”

Ugh, it sounded like I was ten, and not two months shy of eighteen.
 
I didn’t understand the need of such a harsh punishment for doing nothing wrong.
 
And hadn’t Dad been the very one who said he didn’t want people thinking I was weird?
 
Surely healing and then being punished for it wasn’t normal!

Stacy’s face seemed crestfallen as she realized she had to leave.
 
“Well, I guess I’ll go then.
 
I’ll see you in homeroom tomorrow?”

“Yeah.
 
I’ll be there.”

She bobbed her head, as if accepting that little piece of information was somehow some poor consolation prize to staying.
 
I was overwhelmed by the amount of information that small gesture told me.
 
She was genuinely disappointed that she couldn’t spend time with me.
 
I couldn’t help but hug her then, the feelings of gratitude completely taking over and reducing me to a pile of chewed up emotion.

And, unsurprisingly, she returned the hug, squeezing me as tightly as she could because she wanted to.

When she left a few minutes later, I decided that it was about time I started making dinner again.
 
I hadn’t done so in almost two months, and I was sure that Janice could use the break.
 
Seeing that she already had the fixings for meatloaf out, I got to work on mixing the meat, breadcrumbs, eggs, and seasoning.
 
As I shaped the loaf on the pan, I had to admit that my life was also shaping out pretty well.
 
Even if I was grounded for the next two weeks.

I had feared that the two weeks of being grounded would have dragged on forever, especially once the talk about how quickly I had healed began circulating around the school, but I hadn’t thought about just how many hours a day I spent in classes
—
with Robert in half of them
—
or just how easy it was to simply head up to my room and find Robert sitting or lying on the bed, as if he’d always been there.
 

He’d always welcome me as though I had been away for hours rather than a few minutes, with strong arms, and kisses that were sweet and tender.
 
But they were also hesitant, as though he were holding something back from me, and I wasn’t sure what or why.
 
I wasn’t about to complain though.
 
Sweet kisses from Robert, no matter how contained, were far more than I had ever expected, and certainly had no cause to think I deserved them.

I was also surprised at how comfortable I was with having him staying with me in my room, falling asleep with his arms around me, his heart beat and his steady breathing lulling me to sleep each night.
 
I’d always wake up with his arm across my waist, a vise keeping me from lashing out in my sleep.
 
“One day, you’re going to have to tell me what I’m dreaming about that causes me to be so rough with you,” I had told him after the fourth time I had woken up to feel his arm pressed on me.

He had smiled and said that he couldn’t make it out, that there were far too many dizzying images in my head while I slept, and he wasn’t about to strain himself trying to decipher it all.

On the last day of my grounding, Stacy and Lark both decided that I’d be joining them on a shopping trip in celebration of my freedom.
 
The idea of a day of girly bonding seemed so foreign to me, I was genuinely frightened at the thought; they were shopping mall kind of people
—
I was most comfortable in a thrift store.
 
But Stacy wouldn’t take no for an answer, and Lark could see all of my excuses before they were even out of my mouth, so she always had a reply on the ready if ever Stacy stumbled for one.
 
I knew then that Stacy and Lark had become friends because there wasn’t anyone else anywhere who could match wits with the two of them.
 
They were kindred spirits, even if Stacy remained ignorant to what Lark truly was.

It was a point that I brought up on the way to the mall that night.
 
Lark had the highly coveted front passenger seat, while I had the cramped rear.
 
It was, Lark explained, easier for a blind person to enter and exit the car from the front than from the back.
 
I pictured a very large bull and a very large pile of steaming dung that spelled out a very obnoxious phrase after that explanation.
 
She snorted, and I shook my head and laughed.

Will you tell Stacy about what you are?

Lark was quiet for a bit, then she sighed.
 
I don’t know.
 
I’ve never told anyone what I am.
 
I don’t know how to judge a person’s character worthy enough to do so.

In the back of my mind I could hear Ellie’s comments about the test that the electus patronus were given in order to prove their loyalty.
 
What about that?
 
What about seeing if she passes the test?

Lark seemed to take that suggestion into consideration.
 
I admit all of this is very new to me.
 
I’ve never enjoyed your kind; humans are always so depressed and self-destructive.
 
Your wars, your politics, your incessant need to possess gets annoying after a few centuries.
 
And yet, with all your written history, you still repeat it!
 
Einstein was right when he said that insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

Stacy, who had been singing along to the radio throughout most of the silent conversation between Lark and I, noticed how quiet we were.
 
“What’s up with you two?
 
Are you mad at each other or something?”

Lark and I both laughed; I a bit more nervously, while Lark’s was simply one of amusement.
 
“I can’t be mad at Grace.
 
If I were, Rob would never let me hear the end of it.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that, because it was true.
 
She had said it, there was no getting around it.
 
“I’m simply enjoying listening to you sing, Stacy.
 
You know, you’ve got a pretty good voice.”
 
And I meant it.
 
My head perked up at that admission.
 
“I didn’t know you could sing.”

Stacy shrugged her shoulders.
 
“Fat lot of good singing is going to do me here.
 
My parents have it set in their minds that I’m going to graduate, go to college and become a doctor, or lawyer, and then, when I’m twenty-five, I’ll marry a doctor or lawyer
—
Korean of course
—
and give up my career and have babies.”
 
Lark and I looked at each other.
 
We both knew that she had meant her mini-rant to sound sarcastic, but what it sounded more like was sad and hopeless.

“Well, you could always go away to college and take a few singing courses there,” I suggested.
 
“Your parents will be here, so it’s not like they’ll know, right?”

She shook her head, turning the car to park.
 
“You don’t know how lucky you are, not to have been raised by a Korean Mom.
 
She plans on moving with me into the dorms, as my chaperone, because she says American boys cannot be trusted.
 
She forgets that she’s the mother of
five
American boys herself.”

Lark hissed.

I was about to laugh at her comment when she suddenly slammed on the breaks, sending my head careening into the headrest.
 
“Ow.”

“Oh goodness, I’m sorry Grace.
 
I forgot.
 
I shouldn’t have said that stuff about not being raised by a Korean Mom.
 
Ugh, how stupid am I?” Stacy moaned, her little face turning red with embarrassment and hurt.
 
“I didn’t mean it.
 
Oh dear.”
  
She seemed torn between apologizing to me and parking the car.
 
Parking won out when the honking started
—
her sudden stop had nearly caused an accident behind her.