Grace (40 page)
Authors: T. Greenwood
He unzipped his pants and spread her flesh open with his. She gasped, her whole body resisting his, clamping down. And every quiver of resistance, every shudder of revulsion or disgust or whatever it was she now felt for him, made him all the more determined. The ache and longing all the stronger.
He studied her hands as they clutched the top of the bureau, her manicured nails digging into the soft wooden top, and he kept going. Even as her whole body resisted, he continued, pressing his face into her clean hair, until his whole body trembled with both lust and loathing. When he was finished, he stumbled backward, feeling drunk, his legs failing him as he staggered out the bedroom door, leaving her behind, stunned and trying to catch her breath.
I
n her room, Crystal got out the pink and green plaid suitcase she'd had since she was a little girl and started to pack. It was cold out, so she made sure to pack long johns, turtlenecks, wool sweaters and socks. But she would need her summer clothes too. She pulled the bin from her closet and decided to just bring the whole thing. The Volvo was big enough; there would be plenty of room. She looked at her bed, at the place where she had slept every night since she was too big for her crib, and her throat swelled. She grabbed her sock monkey, the one she'd had since her very first Christmas, and put it in the suitcase. The afghan her grandmother had made. As she zipped the suitcase shut, she wondered if she should bring along any other relics of her childhood. She ran her hand across Angie's pillow, tried not to think about breaking her heart.
n her room, Crystal got out the pink and green plaid suitcase she'd had since she was a little girl and started to pack. It was cold out, so she made sure to pack long johns, turtlenecks, wool sweaters and socks. But she would need her summer clothes too. She pulled the bin from her closet and decided to just bring the whole thing. The Volvo was big enough; there would be plenty of room. She looked at her bed, at the place where she had slept every night since she was too big for her crib, and her throat swelled. She grabbed her sock monkey, the one she'd had since her very first Christmas, and put it in the suitcase. The afghan her grandmother had made. As she zipped the suitcase shut, she wondered if she should bring along any other relics of her childhood. She ran her hand across Angie's pillow, tried not to think about breaking her heart.
She opened her desk drawer and took out the envelope she'd gotten at the bank two days before, and counted the twenties again. Then she shoved it in her backpack, along with the envelope of pictures she'd stolen from the Walgreens and the ultrasound pictures of Grace.
It took three trips to get all of her stuff downstairs. She was breathless when she finally locked the door behind her. Outside, it felt like dusk instead of late morning. The sky was dark and thick. Looming. The sun was just a small yellow hint, reluctant behind a thick gauze curtain. Even the trees seemed cautious of the threatening sky.
She put her suitcase in the back of the Volvo, opened the door, and sat down in the driver's seat. The upholstery was hard and cold, and her hands shook as she found the car key on the ring. While she was determined, part of her almost hoped it wouldn't start. Because she knew that once the engine roared to life, there was no going back. She counted softly to three and turned the key. She pressed her foot on the gas, the seat shook beneath her, and the radio blared. Exhaust puffed out behind her, and cold air blew through the open vents. She turned her headlights on, illuminating the road in front of her. A few snowflakes peppered her windshield as she headed east. She passed the bend in the road where the two crosses reminded her to drive carefully, and she slowed in deference to the lost boys.
This was the easy part; she simply pulled the car up close to the mailbox at the edge of the road, undid her seat belt, and leaned over the passenger seat. She unrolled the window and reached out into the cold air, pulling open the door on the mailbox. It was empty, so she simply slipped the photos inside and then lifted up the red flag at its side.
Heat spread through her entire body as she glanced toward the house. Her heart pounded in her chest, her ears, her hands. She could do this. She
had
to do this.
had
to do this.
She looked away from the house and quickly rolled up her window. Then she was pressing her foot on the gas and moving forward. In the next driveway, she turned the Volvo around and then she was on her way.
T
ights made her feel itchy. But it was cold out and she had wanted to wear her purple dress. It was too cold out to wear a dress with no tights, so she'd sat at the edge of her bed as her mom helped her put them on this morning. They were a little bit small, so her mom did the trick where she lifts her up by the tights, which stretches them out and puts them on all at the same time, the waistband coming practically up to her armpits and making her giggle. But now, they were hanging down again; she could barely sit Indian-style on the rug, the middle part practically to her knees again, making it hard to cross her legs.
ights made her feel itchy. But it was cold out and she had wanted to wear her purple dress. It was too cold out to wear a dress with no tights, so she'd sat at the edge of her bed as her mom helped her put them on this morning. They were a little bit small, so her mom did the trick where she lifts her up by the tights, which stretches them out and puts them on all at the same time, the waistband coming practically up to her armpits and making her giggle. But now, they were hanging down again; she could barely sit Indian-style on the rug, the middle part practically to her knees again, making it hard to cross her legs.
They were sitting on the carpet for the morning weather report. Her spot was the red square in the front row sandwiched between Connor With an
O
and Conner With an
E
. This put her right at Mrs. Kelly's feet when she sat in the teacher's chair. She liked to look at Mrs. Kelly's shoes. She had the fanciest shoes she'd ever seen. Her favorites were the shiny black ones with the little silver bows at the toes. They were made of metal, and just shaped like a bow, not really tied. She also liked the brown ones that had ribbons that wrapped around her ankles like a ballerina. Today she was wearing her plain brown ones, the ones with the tassels. Boring.
O
and Conner With an
E
. This put her right at Mrs. Kelly's feet when she sat in the teacher's chair. She liked to look at Mrs. Kelly's shoes. She had the fanciest shoes she'd ever seen. Her favorites were the shiny black ones with the little silver bows at the toes. They were made of metal, and just shaped like a bow, not really tied. She also liked the brown ones that had ribbons that wrapped around her ankles like a ballerina. Today she was wearing her plain brown ones, the ones with the tassels. Boring.
She uncrossed her legs and stretched them out into the blue square next to her where Conner With an
E
would be if he weren't absent today. He was absent a lot of days because he got ear infections, and head lice once. He came back to school after three days with a shaved head, and he had to hang his coat with a garbage bag over it so the lice didn't jump to the other coats.
E
would be if he weren't absent today. He was absent a lot of days because he got ear infections, and head lice once. He came back to school after three days with a shaved head, and he had to hang his coat with a garbage bag over it so the lice didn't jump to the other coats.
“Okay, let's see,” Mrs. Kelly said, leaning toward the chore chart on the wall. “Who is our Weather Reporter today?”
Her arm shot up into the air. She'd been waiting to be Weather Reporter for so long. The last time she was Weather Reporter, it was still hot outside. She didn't like the face on the sun magnet. It looked creepy. But today it looked like snow. She loved the snow magnet. It was a smiling puffy cloud with snowflakes coming out of it.
“Okay, Gracy, come on up,” Mrs. Kelly said, smiling.
But just as she was going to the board to pluck the snow magnet from the pile, Mrs. Moody, the lady from the office, poked her head into the classroom. “Excuse me? Can you send Grace Kennedy to the office? Have her bring her coat and backpack.”
Gracy looked at Mrs. Kelly, who shrugged. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. You can do the report tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.” Disappointed, she went to her cubby and got her backpack and her jacket. Then she took the hall pass from the hook by Mrs. Kelly's desk and opened up the heavy door to the hallway. It was kind of spooky in the hallway when the other kids weren't there. Her boots made squeaky sounds on the floor. Like a funny music. She stopped for a drink of water and wondered if there was any way she could pull up her tights.
A man wearing coveralls was standing by the girls' bathroom. He had a mop bucket, but he wasn't mopping. Usually Mr. Douglas mopped the floors. Maybe he was a substitute. “Hi, pretty girl,” he said, smiling. But she didn't smile back.
In the office, Mrs. Moody nodded at her to have a seat in one of the orange plastic chairs by her desk. Maybe she had a dentist appointment, she thought. But she'd just been to the dentist last week.
She sat there for a long time, her legs dangling off the edge of the seat. Nobody paid any attention to her, and so she pretended she was invisible. It was fun. Then the door opened, and a lady came inside. She smiled at her. “Hi, Gracy,” she said. She could see her!
“Hi,” she said. And then she remembered where she knew her from. It was weird seeing people where they weren't supposed to be. One time she saw Mrs. Kelly at Luigi's getting a pizza with her husband. It made her feel shy.
Mrs. Moody wasn't in the office anymore, but Mrs. Bell, the nurse, was. She was at the counter looking through some papers. “You can just sign her out there,” she said to the lady, pointing to the clipboard on Mrs. Moody's desk.
“I'm going with you?” Gracy said to the lady.
“Yep,” she said. “Your mom asked me to pick you up.”
“Bye!” she said to Mrs. Bell and hopped down off the chair. She reached for the lady's hand. Together their boots squeaked all the way down the hall to the door.
Outside, Gracy climbed into the backseat of the lady's car. “I'm supposed to be in a booster,” she said.
“Shoot,” she said. “I don't have a booster seat, but you should be fine as long as you buckle up.” The lady buckled her seat belt and then got into the car. She looked at Gracy in the rearview mirror.
“Where are we going?” Gracy asked.
The lady pulled away from the curb and headed down the street, the school disappearing behind them. “Just for a ride,” she said, glancing up at the rearview mirror and smiling at Gracy's reflection. She was pretty. And nice. She taught her what to do when you get a bloody nose. But still, it was kind of weird seeing her without her Walgreens shirt on.
E
lsbeth sat at the kitchen table with her cup of coffee, unsure of what had just happened in the bedroom. Kurt hadn't said a word. Even afterward, when they were both covered in sweat and breathless, he had simply staggered into the bathroom. Shut and locked the door, run water into the sink. Elsbeth had completely undressed and pulled her robe on, looked at her startled self in the mirror.
lsbeth sat at the kitchen table with her cup of coffee, unsure of what had just happened in the bedroom. Kurt hadn't said a word. Even afterward, when they were both covered in sweat and breathless, he had simply staggered into the bathroom. Shut and locked the door, run water into the sink. Elsbeth had completely undressed and pulled her robe on, looked at her startled self in the mirror.
Glancing down the hallway to make sure he wasn't coming, she slowly parted her robe and reached between her legs. The place between her thighs was tender. She might even be black-and-blue tomorrow. She stung. He'd never been so rough with her. Never anything but gentle. Gentle to the point of boredom even. She didn't know whether to be thrilled or frightened.
She could hear him in their bedroom, his heavy footsteps as he moved across the floor. She tried to read the sounds, the silences. She had no idea what was going on in his head. What had brought this on. He'd seemed almost angry.
The bedroom door slammed. He coughed. Then his familiar footsteps echoed down the hallway. On any other day, he'd come to the kitchen, gather his coat and wallet and keys, kiss her gently on the forehead, and mumble, “Have a good day. Love you.” But now she felt her whole body stiffen; for the first time in ages, she couldn't predict what would happen next. She pressed her hand against her chest, felt the rapid percussion of her heart against her bones.
Kurt stood in the doorway, his hand against the door frame, and looked at her. She raised her eyebrow and cocked her head. Tried and failed to read his expression.
“Well, good morning,” she said, hoping to sound playful, but her voice cracked.
He stared at her, his eyes wide. He shook his head.
“Baby?” she asked, feeling suddenly scared.
He closed his eyes and kept shaking his head.
“What's the matter?”
“Goddamn you, you ...” he said, his voice like a blast, but then there was another sound. Also loud. Also terrible. It was far away, but loud enough to make both of them turn their heads toward the front door.
Kurt swung the door open, and Elsbeth followed behind him in her robe, careful not to slip as she navigated the icy steps. It was freezing outside, snowing now. Her entire body was trembling. There was already easily an inch on the ground, and it was sticking. She could feel the icy earth through the thin soles of her slipper socks. Wind whipped through the thin fabric of her robe. “What
was
that?” she asked, reaching for his arm.
was
that?” she asked, reaching for his arm.
“I don't know,” Kurt said, pulling away from her and walking quickly down the driveway. He peered out into that thick white sky.
“I think it was some sort of explosion,” he said. “Do you see that smoke?” He pointed to a place in the distance beyond the tops of the trees, and she could see enormous billows of gray smoke rising up into the sky. A vague orange glow.
There were several more loud cracks.
“What the hell?” Kurt said.
His cell phone rang in his pocket, and then inside the house phone started to ring.
I
t was third period, art, and Angie was working on a still life of three apples and a banana. Mr. Franklin had set up the display a week ago, and the bananas were brown now. Rotten. The whole room smelled vaguely of things gone bad. Remarkably, over Thanksgiving break, her own oil pastel bananas remained ripe and yellow on the page. That was the great thing about art, she thought. It preserved things.
t was third period, art, and Angie was working on a still life of three apples and a banana. Mr. Franklin had set up the display a week ago, and the bananas were brown now. Rotten. The whole room smelled vaguely of things gone bad. Remarkably, over Thanksgiving break, her own oil pastel bananas remained ripe and yellow on the page. That was the great thing about art, she thought. It preserved things.
She studied her fingers, smudged with every color in the box. She didn't mind getting messy. Not like her sister. Crystal couldn't stand getting dirty. She was always rolling her eyes at Angie's messes in their shared bathroom, muttering in disgust when she cleared the table and Angie's place setting inevitably was littered with crumbs and spilled food. They'd had a thousand arguments over their bedroom. Angie never made her bed, couldn't seem to keep her junk from spilling onto Crystal's side of the room, had a bad habit of leaving her dirty clothes on the floor rather than stuffing them into their shared hamper.
She looked toward the wooden bowl of rotten fruit and felt a pit in her stomach. Something was weird with Crystal. Well, something had been weird with Crystal for a long time now, ever since she had the baby. But that was just her being sad. Anyone who knew her could figure that out. But this morning had been different.
Angie usually slept until the last possible second before tearing herself from her bed, from the soft, warm nest of her comforter and sheets. Most days, Crystal got ready quietly, letting her sleep. She was careful not to turn on the light or make any noise as she pulled open her drawers to get dressed. It was one of those things that Angie loved about Crystal. Their mom would run the vacuum at six in the morning, bang pots and pans, have loud conversations on her phone right outside her door, but Crystal was always thoughtful. She would have made a good mom, Angie thought sometimes. She knew she shouldn't think like that; the baby was gone, not hers anymore. But Angie knew it was true.
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