She shrugged and continued, curving and looping all over her paper. Every now and then, she’d look to me to make sure she was doing it right, and I’d nod and tell her to keep going. Eventually, she stopped checking for direction and enjoyed her journey.
An hour later, Zac and I were on the couch closest to the kitchen table, where we’d set up a big bagel breakfast spread. We were both reading, and occasionally, he would break the quiet by scribbling in the margin of his paperback.
Joy breezed in. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” we said simultaneously. Zac tilted his head toward the doorway, indicating he’d leave so we could have privacy.
“Okay,” I mouthed. Although. I wasn’t sure what I needed. Camouflage? A bulletproof vest? A safe room?
Zac pressed a hand to my thigh and got up. Then with a quick, hopeful look at me, he left.
I swallowed. Then stood.
“Hey,” I said, holding up the book. “So I started reading Finding Spirit: Just Keep Breathing. Um, it’s good. Turns out even autonomic functions could use a little improvement.”
I tried to laugh a little, but it sounded slightly strangled. Joy was behind the door of the open fridge. I couldn’t see her face. I stepped around the couch, stopping at the edge of the family room and kitchen, as if there were some sort of force field preventing me from entering.
Joy shut the fridge, carrying the tofu cream cheese and soy milk to the table.
“Did you get to the part about how meditation can actually change your brain?” she asked as she set down the items on the table.
“Not yet.”
She shook the soy milk carton. “Did you eat?”
“No.”
Joy held her arm out to the table, inviting me.
So I moved, and once I was in my seat, I crossed and uncrossed my legs. It was weird, awkward, but something I knew I wanted to do. So I reached for the basket. “Bagel?”
Joy picked a sesame-covered bagel.
I took one, then placed the basket on the table between us. “So, um, what about the brain changes?”
Joy blinked. She seemed thrown by all this, too, but she wasn’t bolting or waving it all away with some all-encompassing, dismissive quote. Both of which I recognized were our defense mechanisms.
“So the brain seems to actually change, for the good. Meditation can even decrease activity in the somatosensory cortex, which can reduce pain,” Joy said.
I inhaled. Deeply. “All this breathing talk, I can’t help it.”
“Yeah.” Joy spread jelly over her nondairy cream cheese, before handing me the jar.
As I took the jar, my gaze fell on her hand, the L and the V tattoo.
She sat back in her chair slowly, but let her hand rest on the table in front of her. She stared at the tattoo.
“It doesn’t mean life and vitality. Not originally.” She shrugged, continuing to stare at the letters.
“Oh,” I said. Very quietly. Careful not to break whatever spell seemed to be in effect between us.
“Jeremy has letters, too. An O and an E.” She rubbed a finger over her tattoo. “When we held hands, then…”
Love.
Together, we inhaled slow breaths and pain, embarrassment, and vulnerability passed between us.
She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I considered getting it lasered, but well, I like the idea that it can stand for life and vitality, too.”
I nodded. I wanted to say I was sorry, but the expression on my sister’s face stopped me. Somehow, she’d already moved into a place beyond sympathy. Somewhere a little better. And suddenly, I had a new adjective with which to describe my sister. Resilient.
Something I could learn from. If I worked on my inner sense of calm, confidence, and control, then maybe I wouldn’t have to freak out (or at least freak out less) when the ground under my feet wobbled.
Joy cleared her throat. “I guess we both got the We Are all Waves Speech yesterday?”
I winced. “I’m sorry.”
“I had it coming,” Joy said, but she smiled a little as she said it. “Still, I’ll take the wave speech over the cheesy bread one.”
“What? The cheesy bread?”
“Yeah, when I told her about Jeremy, and all that crap, Mom ended up telling me a story about getting her vegan cheesy bread into the retail stores. Remember, she had those marketing people come from the chain grocery stores?”
“Yeah. She was so excited when one of them said yes.”
“Right, but then they said no, pulling out of the deal two weeks later.”
“Ah, so, you were the cheesy bread, and Jeremy was Fresher Foods Market?” I asked, noticing how weird it was to say my sister’s boyfriend—no ex-husband’s name—without having ever met him or knowing any kind of background information on him, other than what I heard from Reed.
“Yes, exactly. Apparently, I need to maintain my vegan, cheesy uniqueness.”
“And how did being called cheesy feel?”
Joy handed me the coffee carafe. “Shut up.”
“Can I do that and still breathe?”
She laughed, the kind that bubbled, happy and sparkly, breaking free of barriers.
Two hours later, Joy and Reed were at the door, ready to head back to Happy Hills.
If I thought it was awkward to begin the conversation with Joy at the breakfast table, I was wrong. Awkward was when it came to say good-bye to Reed.
To hug or not to hug? That was my question. But then Zac joined us in the foyer, and I knew I didn’t want to hug Reed in front of him.
Zac shook Reed’s hand. My face warmed, partly from the embarrassment of the whole situation, but mostly, because I felt so lucky to have a guy like Zac in love with me.
Reed waved at me. I waved back. Somewhere, in the far away corner of my middle, something panged. Reed and I weren’t a mistake. There was something deeper involved, like the effects of meditation. I think my brain changed from meeting Reed. Maybe the universe put us in each other’s paths for that.
I probably wasn’t supposed to kiss him though. Maybe.
Well, I was a work in progress. Mistakes were bound to happen. Besides, it wasn’t like the universe had been specific. Why couldn’t we get a text when something big was going down? Like, Hey, Grace, talk to this guy, and he’ll help you get closer to your sister.
Yeah, universe texts. Why not?
But somehow, in some odd way, even the Kissing Reed Thing helped. It actually made the Jenny Thing easier to file away. I thought, at first, it was some petty, vengeful response, but maybe that was me trying to navigate my way through my confusion, to understand. Or maybe I was just making an excuse. At the very least, it was proof I wasn’t perfect. An even bigger relief was when I realized everyone was screwed up in some way.
Joy stepped over to me. We hugged. I smelled my pear-scented shampoo on her hair. She always used to complain that I used the sudsy shampoo that was terrible for the environment. But she’d used mine that morning after our bagel breakfast. I didn’t know what that meant, if anything. But I liked to think she used it because she wanted to be closer to me, to keep me lingering with her at least for a little while.
“So, when you’re finished with the breathing book, I’ve got more for you. I’m reading The Orbit of Love right now.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s about how we often end up like orbiting planets with the ones we love.”
A sharp, pre-tear poked at the back of my right eye. “Yeah. I definitely want to read that.”
“Okay.” She winked. “I’ll send it to you. Maybe with some small sketchbooks, the kind you can keep in your bag, no matter where you go.”
I glanced at Reed. He got in my sister’s car but not before he smiled.
I matched it just as Joy tapped my cheek with a finger.
“Actually, I don’t think you need The Orbit of Love.” She looked at Zac and back at me. “However, I still recommend The Singularity of Sex.”
“Funny
, Joy.”
“Oh no, I’m serious,” she said pointing at both of us as she walked backwards toward her car. “It’s not only about you, you know. You can’t underestimate the duality of two powerful, self-aware singulars.”
A crazy combo of laughter and embarrassment pushed from inside my chest, pressure cooker style. My sister was a nut job. Then again, so was I, which kind of made me feel like we had a connection, that somehow, we’d be okay.
“Love you, Joy.”
My sister nodded. Then blew me a kiss.
Yeah, I was pretty sure we would be okay. Eventually. Just keep breathing. Just keep going. Just keep trying. I was going to hope and hold on for those second chances.
My sister and Reed drove away. Then Zac took my hand. “So where’s this book your sister was talking about?”
“Um, which book? The breathing one? It’s inside.”
Zac wrapped his arms around my middle. “No. Try again.”
“The Orbit of Love? I haven’t read that one yet. And besides, you heard Joy. She said we didn’t need it.”
Zac tightened his hold, pulling us closer. “No…”
“Oh, the book Chloe was reading?” I asked, trying to keep up with my game, but it wasn’t easy when Zac was kissing my neck.
“Um…it’s about girls, dating…”
Zac stopped and leaned back, a gleam in his eye. “Girls dating?”
“No. Something about dating. Dating and the single girl?”
“Aha! Single. That’s it. Singularity. The Singularity of Sex. That’s the book I’m talking about.”
My cheeks flushed. Zac grinned, touching his nose to mine before kissing my jaw, my ear, and back to my neck. We’d resolved a lot of things in the last week, but sex was not one of them. Oh sure, sex seemed to be in almost every conversation we’d had, but not the particular topic of if and when it would happen for us. I didn’t know the answer to that question. But I knew if Zac and I were going to choose to be in that place with each other, we would have to make sure we were clear and open about everything else.
I sighed. It was so difficult to think with him kissing me like that. I pushed at his chest and looked at him. “You really want to read the book?”
Zac laughed a little. “No.”
“What? You don’t want to get in touch with your power, make some margin notes about your core fire?”
He shook his head, moved his hands from my waist to my cheeks. “I only want you.”
I felt especially grateful to have a guy like Zac. I was no longer jealous of the kind of nostalgia he had with Jenny, because I wouldn’t trade that for stopwatch summers, mud pies, and his love.
Chapter 30
Open Door, Found Materials
Spring break was over and we were almost home.
“How did I miss two phone calls?” I asked Zac from the passenger seat.
“Because you cranked the volume so loud Texas could hear.” Zac pointed at his truck’s radio as he downshifted and turned onto his street. “Since when did you become such a country music fan?”
“I don’t know. It seems to work for road trips.” I pressed the voice mail icon and put my phone to my ear. “You could’ve changed the station.”
“Radio chivalry, milady.”
“Oh, well then, thank you, er, milord. Whither thou goest, I’ll go and…” I struggled to come up with some middle ages speak. “Canterbury Tales and all that perchance.”
Zac laughed as he swung into his driveway, the truck bouncing a little. “My fair maiden, you slay me, and speaking of swords, I--”
I tapped him on the arm. “Shh. It’s your mom.”
“My mom?” Zac cleared his throat and looked out at his backyard. “Where?”
“My voice mail. Oh. She saw Lily’s drawings.”
Zac parked and dropped his hands from the steering wheel. “I could’ve used a transition from sheathing swords to you talking about my mom and sister, Pinks.”
“I didn’t bring up the sword.”
Zac raised an eyebrow. “Now who’s being inappropriate?”
I punched him on the arm and pointed at my phone. “She says Lily can’t stop talking about drawing, and, oh wait, she wants me to teach a whole class of kids at the community center?”
“Wow.”
I shrugged but couldn’t stop the corners of my lips from turning upward. Interesting. “Huh. It’s for this summer, and, apparently, I’d get paid for it.”
“Huzzah!” Zac opened his door. “I’m gonna get your bag.”
“Stupid phone. It says the next message was from three days ago. How did I miss that?” I slid out of the truck. Brrr. It wasn’t a typical spring day in Hickory Bend.
“Maybe during rice rehab?” Zac asked, hefting my extra large duffle from his truck bed to his shoulder.
“Probably.” The phone beeped, then I heard my dad’s voice. He wanted to know if I’d be home at all this week. If not, then when I’d be free in the near future.
“Pinks, you okay?”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “It’s my dad. He wants to take me to dinner.”
“Now?”
I shook my head. “Um, someday, I guess.”
“Oh. That’s good, right?”
“Sure. If it actually happens.” I turned, putting my hand on the open passenger door. The beach grass ring wasn’t on my finger. “On no. It’s gone.”
Zac looked at the ground, and I got back in the truck, checking the seats, the floor, between the seats, only to come up empty-handed. “Crap. Maybe it fell off at the restaurant we stopped at. I should call.”
Zac put his hand on my arm. “Pinks, I can make you a new one.”
“But the beach is nowhere near here.”
“Come on.” Zac shut the truck door and draped his arm around me. “Let’s go to your chambers. There are bigger treasures in this kingdom, you know.”
“Okay, but I think I’ve reached my medieval innuendo limit.”
Zac pushed on his back gate and stepped aside for me to pass through. “Damn, and I had a really good one I was saving about dragons and quenching fires.”
I tsked, and he winked, as I stepped into the alley between our fences.
The hole in my fence was gone.
“Whoa. What…who…” I said, but instantly I knew. My dad.
Years ago, my dad had yanked away a few boards in the name of safety—my safety, leaving a gaping hole in our back fence. I always thought he’d fix it, eventually, when he was sure I wouldn’t be climbing any trees to get to Zac’s house. Not that I really wanted the fence boarded up, seeing as it was my safe passage to Zac’s.
But now it was fixed. Except in a way I hadn’t considered. The broken space was now a really beautiful gate.
“Wow,” Zac said.
“I guess he came here this week, after my mom left Richmond.”
Zac was the first to move closer. He set my duffel back on the grass, crouching down to get a better look. “This is really nice, Pinks.”
I hovered behind Zac. It was nice. My dad must have kept up with his woodworking.
It was strange to consider the scenario where my dad still did the things he used to do. In some way, it had been easier to think that once my dad left, he transformed into a different person. Someone I didn’t know at all. But not so, the world continued on. My dad was still my dad.
I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
“This had to take some time.” Zac studied the smooth edge of the white arbor. “I guess he made it in Richmond and transported it down.
I swallowed. Over a humongous lump lodged in my throat. “He must’ve been working on it for a while.”
“Yeah.” Zac turned around. “You okay?”
“Mm-hmm. I’m not sure what to think.”
He moved aside. Then it was just me in front of the gate. The door part was low. It came up to about my waist and was painted red, which kind of reminded me of a small barn door. The hinges were black metal and attache
d to a curved white arch that went up and around, way above my head. I lifted the latch and pushed gently. It swung into my yard, with the tiniest of squeaks.
I smiled. I’d been thinking of my parents as a package deal, but once that was broken, I had no idea how to handle, how to decipher, how to deal.
But after spending time with my mom and my sister this week, I knew we would figure this family thing out. We would be okay.
But this gate… Somehow, this pretty, handcrafted assembly of lumber and obvious care reminded me that there was also a connection between my dad and me, and ultimately, my family. Maybe we weren’t quite assembled yet, but this was a reminder that there was still something there to fix.
I glanced at the archway. Maybe I could plant some flowering vines? Maybe.
I inhaled. Honeysuckle. Made me think of playing outside with my sister, but I would forever think of my backyard, my house, my family, Zac, and now this gate, whenever I smelled honeysuckle.
“Pinks?”
“Yeah?”
Zac pointed at the base of the white post, right below the last hinge. There was a carving in the wood. I imagined my dad’s initials would be there, like the ones on the bookcase he made, or carved at the bottom of the jewelry box he made for my mom so many years ago.
I bent down. It wasn’t his initials.
I reached out and traced the etching. He’d carved a tiny dandelion. Just like the ones I drew to sign my artwork.
Dandelions were wishes, but they were also a reminder to keep a hold on what was important to me. Except now, I realized I’d been focusing too much on the hold part, on what I thought was supposed to happen, and on the walls of protection I’d built, instead of nurturing my confidence (which got lost in the shuffle of my inner battle). I could stand to practice some confidence. Because everything that was important to me—love, family, dreams—all required a certain sense of sureness. The kind that didn’t require a strangle hold.
Zac’s hand touched my arm. He was warm. “Pinks, you’re cold. Do you want my jacket?”
I shook my head, smiling, thinking of how sometimes getting a second chance could feel like a big, soft furry coat that draped you from head to toe.
The Art of Second Chances Page 18
