I, Gracie

by Sharon Sala

  "Then what?" John asked.

  Gracie sighed. "It's an ugly story."

  "I'm a big boy," John said.

  She sighed, glanced at him, and then leaned back on the sofa and started talking.

  "I'm the baby of four children. They are quite a bit older than me. Our world came undone when I was twenty, just out of college and only days away from leaving for Denver to a brand new job as an event planner for a big hotel. We were all home for Easter. My brother and sisters and I were visiting when Mama interrupted us. Said she had an announcement to make, and that she'd been diagnosed with dementia. She was scared, and my brother and two sisters sort of freaked and started talking about how busy they all were, and they couldn't walk away from their lives to tend to hers. She looked so lost and scared that it broke my heart, so I quit a job I hadn't even begun, and I stayed.

  "They only came to visit twice after that...both times at Christmas. By then, Mama didn't know who they were. She didn't remember her grandchildren, and she was loud and defiant. It scared them, so none of them ever came back until I called to tell them she'd died."

  "Wait. What? But they helped you, didn't they?"

  "No. And everything at the ranch began falling apart. Money got tight, and I sold everything that wasn't tied down to make ends meet. Mama set the kitchen on fire, then she began hoarding stuff. She wandered off onto the five hundred acres of prairie on our ranch and got herself lost."

  John flinched. "How did you find her?"

  "Buzzards. Daddy always said if there was flesh on the ground, there would be buzzards in the air. And there were."

  John tightened his grip. "I cannot imagine living this...let alone living through it."

  Gracie shrugged. "Thinking of it all together, it is a lot, but remember, it was just me and Mama, taking it one day at a time. Besides the day she stabbed me, the worst time for the both of us was losing air conditioning. It quit working four years before she died, and if you have ever spent a summer in West Texas, you would wonder how anything can live in that heat. But we did. And we would have gone hungry, but for my brother's ex-wife sending us her alimony every month."

  John was holding onto both of Gracie's hands now, still locked onto that casual comment that had stopped his heart.

  "Stabbed you? As in tried to kill you?"

  Gracie nodded. "I never saw it coming, and it was certainly nothing she'd ever tried to do before. She liked to put up the clean flatware. I laid a handful on the table, then turned my back on her when, all of a sudden, she's screaming at me and stabbing me in the back and chest. I fought her, knocked her down, then called 9-1-1 before I passed out. I nearly bled to death.

  "I stayed in the hospital a week. They put her in a psych ward for a month. When I got well enough, I brought her home because there were no safe places for people like that, and no money to put her in one of the fancy ones. And life went on. I have scars...all over my back, on my chest, and in my soul. She didn't mean to hurt me. She just didn't know who I was, and I guess she got scared."

  "Why didn't you call your brother and sisters?"

  And that's when he heard the rage in her voice.

  "Because they'd already quit us, and I don't beg."

  Within seconds John was on his feet, and she was in his arms. He felt her tense and try to pull away, so he started talking, his voice shaking—needing to get this said before she decked him.

  "I'm hugging you because you need it. And because I need to fix the horror in your life, and I can't. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry this happened to you, and I'm so sorry that happened to your mother. She would have been horrified, wouldn't she?"

  It was that simple statement of understanding that shattered Gracie's resistance, and she melted against his chest, his shirt fisted in both her hands.

  "Yes."

  And so they stood there in silence. John with his chin resting on the crown of her head, and Gracie with her cheek up against his chest. Then he tipped her chin until she was looking at him.

  "Okay. So, here's what you have to remember. You shared your pain, so from this day forward, it is no longer yours alone. I'm helping you carry it, and one of these days, I'll help you bury it, just like you buried your mother. Understood?"

  Gracie's eyes welled. "Understood."

  John wanted to kiss her so bad he ached, but all he did was wipe tears off her cheeks. Lord have mercy, she was breaking his heart.

  "I'll call you tomorrow to hear all about your first day at work. I'm excited for you, Gracie. Tomorrow is the first day of a new path, and knowing you, you'll be running, not walking." Her smile was wobbly, but a smile nonetheless. "This was our first date, but I'm hoping for more."

  She nodded.

  "Count on it," she said.

  And then he was gone.

  Long after Gracie had gone to bed, she kept going over the day in her head, and the one thing that stood out was what it felt like to stand within the circle of John's embrace. It should have been awkward, but all it had felt was right. Like it was where she belonged.

  It was after midnight, and John still sat on the back deck in the dark, watching the stars, listening to the night birds, and thinking about Gracie. She was the most broken soul he had ever known, and he already knew he would love her.

  Forever.

  Even if she never loved him back.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Joel was out of surgery and in a room, and Mamie was at his side, listening to all the machines hooked up to his body, beeping out pulse rates and heartbeats. They were talking to Mamie, telling her about him, while she kept watching his every move as if it might be his last.

  The police had taken her statement.

  The assailant had been transported to another hospital. She had no idea if he was alive or dead and didn't much care, as long as she never had to see him again.

  Neighbors had helped clean her up and then had brought her to the hospital. One had stayed with her until Joel came through surgery, and now Mamie was alone.

  She'd called her "best" friends, thinking they would flock to her, but she'd been wrong. They'd voiced sympathy, offered prayers, and then nothing. She kept thinking of what Joel had said. Maybe you need new friends. Maybe he was right.

  What she did know was that right now, at this moment, she would give up every luxury they had to get Joel well and healthy, and the guilt was killing her. This was karma. Her karma for what she'd done to Gracie. And Joel was paying for it. It had yet to dawn on her that she'd saved both their lives.

  She kept asking the police, even after they'd taken Joel away, how had the man gotten inside without setting off the security alarm? When they told her it had never been set, guilt ate at her again. Joel always set it, but they'd been fussing when they'd left to go to counseling. So, their discord had added to the chain of events that had let a monster into their home.

  She had also not missed the coincidence of two people in the Dunham family suffering stabbings.

  Mama had stabbed Gracie, and she'd fought back and saved herself.

  A stranger had stabbed Joel, and Mamie had fought him, and because she had, she and Joel were still alive. She raised her chin and straightened the slump in her shoulders. Maybe she wasn't as useless as she'd believed herself to be.

  Her phone vibrated. She glanced down at the screen. It was Daphne. Finally, she thought, and pulled up the text.

  Oh my God! Mamie! I'm just catching up on messages. I ran over my phone at noon. Destroyed it. Spent the whole afternoon getting a new one and trying to transfer data, and your message pops up and I nearly had a heart attack. I'm texting instead of calling because I'm guessing you're in the hospital. Is Joel okay? Are you okay? Do you need me to come to Austin?

  Mamie sighed. So, the question of why Daphne had never responded was now cleared up, and once again, she was reminded of how alone Gracie must have felt, going through one crisis after another alone. She took a deep breath, and then messaged her sister back.

  He's out of surge
ry. No organ damage. I wasn't injured. Yes, I'm in his hospital room. He's sleeping. I'm not leaving here without him. No, don't come. After what I did to Gracie, I do not deserve the consideration of family to keep me company. I will let you know when we go home. Love you.

  She hit Send, then dropped her phone back in her purse. Daphne sent another message, but Mamie didn't read it, and she didn't respond. This was her redeeming moment, and she wasn't going to screw up again.

  Daphne was stunned by Mamie's refusal. Growing up, Mamie had never been able to do one thing on her own. She'd always had to have company along, telling her what was right and what was wrong. And she'd been just selfish enough to ignore anyone who told her something she didn't want to hear.

  Daphne wasn't sure about Mamie assuming all of this was the hand of God smiting her for her sins, but if that's how Mamie read it, who was Daphne to argue the point?

  Still, she felt the need to let James know what had happened, but instead of texting, she called.

  It was late, but James was still up. He'd had a couple of beers with the pizza he'd had delivered and had gotten caught up in a movie. So, when the phone rang, he almost let it go to voicemail, but then saw it was from his sister.

  "Hey, Daffy. What's up?" James asked.

  Daphne rolled her eyes. The old childhood nickname had always been a bone of contention between them, and she had not changed her opinion of it. However, she chose to ignore it.

  "Did Mamie call you about Joel?"

  James hit mute on the TV and sat up.

  "No. What about Joel?"

  "They walked in on a robbery in progress in their house at noon. Joel was stabbed, and the robber was coming at Mamie with the knife when she crowned him with a cast iron skillet."

  "Oh my God! Are you serious? Mamie did that?"

  Daphne sighed. "That's kind of what I thought. I would have expected her to scream and run. I think there's more of Mama in her than she knew."

  James groaned. "Is Joel okay? Please tell me he didn't die!"

  "He didn't die. Mamie said he came out of surgery. No internal organs were injured. She's at the hospital with him. I asked if she needed me to come be with her, and she said the strangest thing. She said, after what she did to Gracie by abandoning her, she did not deserve the consideration of family coming to comfort her. She told me to stay home! Can you believe? If I hadn't heard her say the words, I wouldn’t have believed it."

  James was silent for a moment, but the knot in his stomach was there and tightening.

  "She's right, you know."

  Daphne was trying not to cry. "Whatever. I can't change what I did. None of us can. And since I'm not going to cut my wrists for being an asshole, then my only other option is to keep doing what I do and try to never hurt another human for as long as I live."

  "Agreed. I'm working on resolving my sins as we speak," James said.

  "By doing what?" Daphne asked.

  "You'll know soon enough. Thanks for letting me know about Joel. And since she doesn't want company, I'll send her my prayers. It's the accepted standard to fix everything these days."

  "Isn't that the truth?" Daphne said. "Take care."

  "You, too," James said, and then she was gone.

  He sat staring at the television screen, but the sound was still muted. The thoughts that had been hanging onto his conscience took root. His eyes narrowed, and then he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes to keep from crying. He was so fucking tired of crying. This had to be the answer. Or he was done.

  Gracie showed up for work at 7:45.

  Donna was smiling as she let her in the back door.

  "I have a walking boot. My world is back on track. Come in. Are you ready for all this?"

  "I am so ready," Gracie said, and followed her through a hall, past storage rooms and a bathroom, and then past Donna's office into the workroom.

  "Girls, this is Gracie Dunham. Gracie, you met Reba yesterday, and these two are sisters. Their names are Laura and Michelle."

  They waved and smiled.

  "Welcome to the Majestic," Reba said.

  "Thanks. Any advice is welcome," Gracie said.

  Laura, the redhead, laughed out loud. "I don't think that will be necessary. We all saw your work from yesterday. I am in awe."

  Gracie smiled. "Thank you."

  "Now, down to business," Donna said. "I have your worktable set up and a clean apron. We have more orders for that same funeral that have to go out before noon today, and most of them are sprays. We're working on those right now, so start there, card them, and put them in the cooler for noon delivery. The details of how this place works will become evident as you go. Never hesitate to ask questions. Never hesitate to ask me for advice, So... okay, then. Let's get to work!"

  The morning flew by for Gracie. Staying busy helped. She had a crash course in ringing up sales, while Donna was the one who waited on walk-ins, and wrote up work orders.

  They began staggering lunch breaks at eleven. Donna sent Reba and Gracie off first, which meant Gracie was going to have to talk girl-talk and chit-chat. Something she hadn't done in years.

  "Where do you want to go to eat?" Reba said.

  "You pick," Gracie said. "I haven't lived here long enough to know which places have the quickest service and best food."

  "How about Subway. Good sandwiches, quick service, and tables to sit at."

  "Sounds good," Gracie said.

  "I'll drive. Hop in," Reba said, and off they went.

  A short while later, they were standing in line, waiting to order. Reba was texting on her phone, leaving Gracie absently listening to the chatter of diners around her.

  Then suddenly, there was the slam of cars colliding, the crunch of metal, and the sound of shattering glass, bringing every conversation to a halt.

  Outside, two cars were crushed with steam rising from both of them, and people were running to their aid, while inside, a good number of the diners were rushing to the windows.

  The low tone of conversations had turned to excited exclamations, and then dozens of people grabbed their cell phones and started videoing while others all talked at once.

  Within the cacophony of voices, Gracie heard another sound—one she'd heard dozens of times when she'd still been home with her mama. Someone was choking.

  She turned, quickly scanned the people still seated, and within seconds, spotted a middle-aged man sitting alone at a table. He had a frantic look on his face and was grabbing at his throat, desperately gasping for air.

  Gracie bolted toward the table.

  "Are you choking?" she asked.

  He nodded, his wide-eyed gaze fixed upon her face.

  She dragged him up from the chair, bent him slightly forward, and with her arms around him and her fists below his ribcage, she began squeezing his stomach with quick inward and upward thrusts, until all of a sudden, the bread stuck in his throat came flying out of his mouth, and he was able to breathe again.

  "We're going to sit back down now," Gracie said.

  The manager had been alerted by one of her employees, and came running out of the office, concerned for her customer and praising Gracie.

  "I didn't see him," she kept saying. "He could have died. Thank you. Thank you."

  But Gracie's focus remained on the man as she took his pulse.

  "Sir, do you take blood pressure medicine?"

  He nodded shakily, still drawing in one deep gulp of air after another.

  She looked at the manager. "I think you need to call an ambulance. His pulse is irregular and racing."

  The manager grabbed her phone and called 9-1-1, while Gracie pulled up a chair and sat down at the table with him.

  "My name is Gracie. What's yours?" she asked.

  He was sweating profusely, and both his hands and his voice shook.

  "Edward."

  "So, Edward, is there someone we can call for you?" Gracie asked.

  "Nobody to call," he mumbled.

  At that point, Reba
appeared.

  "What can I do to help?" she asked.

  "Get my food to go," Gracie said, and handed her a twenty.

  "Good call," Reba said, but the manager had other ideas.

  "No, ma'am," she said. "It's on me." The woman called over to a girl behind the counter. "Comp these ladies' orders, please."

  "Thank you," Gracie said.

  "No, thank you."

  Reba got back in line. Emergency vehicles were everywhere now. Police cars arriving. Ambulances arriving. The fire department was out in the street with the Jaws of Life, trying to extract a victim from one car. Finally, the ambulance they'd called for arrived. When the EMTs ran inside, Gracie stepped back. Adrenaline was crashing, and she was starting to shake. Reba handed her a to-go cup of Coke, and a sack with her sandwich, then grabbed her by the arm and out the door they went.

  Reba said nothing until they were in the car and driving.

  "We're going to the park. We can sit in the shade and relax while we eat."

  "Fine with me," Gracie said, and then leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to pull herself together.

  "You were amazing," Reba said. "How did you learn to do that?"

  "My mother had dementia. One of the problems people have as the disease progresses is choking on everything from their own spit to anything they might put in their mouths. I learned to do that for her."

  "Wow," Reba said. "Did she live with you?"

  "I lived with her," Gracie said.

  "Is she still alive?" Reba asked.

  "No," Gracie said, and then reached for her Coke and took a drink. "Thank you for getting my food."

  "Of course," Reba said.

  Gracie nodded. "It smells good. You made a good choice."

  Reba was silent as she pulled up in the shade of some huge oaks, stopped the car, then left it running.

  "I keep thinking if I'd picked another place, that man might have died today. You had to be there for him," she said.