Saving Gracie

by Terry Lee

  The meeting went better than Grace expected. But then again, her kids handled change much better than she did. Six months was a long time. She doubted Hannah or Josh fully comprehended the impact their dad’s absence would have on their lives. How could they? She didn’t know if she even did. One thing she did understand, though. It would be up to her to minimize the blow.

  ~~~

  Hannah’s slumber party the following weekend, as expected, turned out to be exhausting and fun. Six of Hannah’s friends arrived Friday evening for pizza, girl talk-signing, and little, if any sleep; funny name for a party with so little slumber.

  Classes, studying, volunteer days, volleyball games, meals, life in general ate up the days until the end of the month. September plowed forward against all of Grace’s attempts to push pause.

  An alarm system had been installed and a lawn service hired. Her SUV got a new set of tires, an oil change and she got a Triple A road safety membership. After a Sunday afternoon training session Grace not only learned, but mastered (to her surprise), the mechanics of on-line bill pay and managing the household budget. She’d even figured out the world clock feature on her phone to compute Beijing time.

  Whether she was ready or not, the end of September arrived. The last Sunday of the month Grace sat at the wheel of her SUV. Adam rode shotgun while two silent kids took up space in the back seat. The destination? Intercontinental Airport. The forty-five minute drive felt more like a slow barge down the Nile. Adam tried and failed at conversation. Grace’s grip on the steering wheel numbed her fingers. Josh and Hannah concentrated on the passing scenery outside their windows.

  Grace had moved beyond her quest to guilt Adam, thanks to #2's support, yet she couldn’t force herself to act like this was a normal trip to the airport.

  Steering the SUV off the beltway and onto JFK Boulevard a wave of empathy swept over her like high tide at Port A. Empathy: the intellectual identification with or vicarious experiencing of the feelings, thoughts, or attitudes of another. She’d memorized the definition for her last psychology exam. It helped explain the tightness in her chest…and made her realize how Adam must feel.

  Right there on JFK Boulevard her mental kaleidoscope shifted. Until now she’d cared only about her own selfish fears. Now, with the filters lifted, she saw Adam’s anguish. Although a loving husband and father, he was also a successful businessman, and a damn good provider. He was doing his job.

  She loosened her grip on the steering wheel and closed her hand around Adam’s. Her sudden move of kindness must have caught him off guard. Pools of gratitude filled his eyes. Grace felt her own eyes well.

  Don’t you dare cry, she mentally warned herself. Suck it up.

  The message registered. She took a deep breath and felt her eyes clear. She was in unchartered territory. Never before had she offered support to someone she’d always depended on. Unfamiliar…but not bad. Life without Adam wasn’t going to be easy, but she’d find a way. She had to. Determination and intention were new words in her mental and emotional vocabularies.

  Is this what it’s like? She wondered. Being a grownup? She was not yet comfortable in her new position, but for once the role felt doable.

  ~~~

  Life was what it was. Had she read that somewhere? New responsibilities, new job titles. Head of the house, decision maker, bill payer, overseer of, well…everything. This in addition to being a single parent, chauffeur, cook, housekeeper, student, and volunteer.

  She never knew she could wear so many hats. But day after day she continued to do what had to be done. Adam called twice a week and for the first time in her life she had something to say. He talked, she talked. He asked questions, she answered. Then the conversation reversed. She surprised herself. She was actually pulling the whole thing off…at least for now.

  Thursdays were tiresome. Grace constantly watched Cherry for triggers that could ignite a volatile episode. She succeeded about half the time. Sometimes Cherry trudged off the school bus with dark circles under her eyes, looking like she’d slept in her clothes. Those days Grace could count on spending time in the counselor’s office or isolation room, the routine now familiar. Through small flying fists and swift kicks Grace had learned to properly restrain Cherry, remove the lethal boots, and physically carry the child down the hall away from the classroom.

  Carla repeatedly expressed gratitude for Grace’s help once a week. However, it would take a lot more Thursdays before the wild-child learned alternative behaviors to the violent outbursts.

  Josh and Hannah missed their dad, but life marched on in their world. No longer was Grace afforded the luxury of dodging important questions and decisions or, better yet, hiding in her closet. The broomstick was up for grabs and she needed to be the one flying. #2 had been quiet, which was strange, but not altogether unwelcome. In a way, #2’s presence or absence became Grace’s yardstick for measuring how she was doing. #2 agreed to appear only when needed to encourage, support or if Grace reverted to…what was it? Oh yeah, the pansy-ass.

  CHAPTER 38

  QUINLAN AND ANGELA

  Angela placed a call to Mary. “I think we’re about to begin lesson one.”

  “Which will be?” Mary asked.

  “Choosing to follow instructions.” Angela laughed. “And trusting the process.”

  “That sounds like two,” Mary said.

  Angela smiled. “I had to double up. I’m running out of time.”

  “What is she doing now?”

  “RR&P,” Angela answered. “That’s if she followed instructions. She almost blew a fuse on the blue computer. I had to shut it down and send her to her quarters.”

  “I support your decision, Angela,” Mary said. “Her activities will be monitored from here in case the need arises to act quickly.”

  Angela snapped the cell phone shut. “Tomorrow should be interesting.”

  ~~~

  According to the little watch on her ID bracelet, Quinlan was dressed by seven o’clock. She purposely chose a lightweight blazer to wear over her slacks and blouse. The pockets were deep and could hold the iPod, her slew of blue items, laminated cards and a handful of Kleenex. She always carried Kleenex. She contemplated bringing the “In Case of Emergency” pamphlet, but decided to think positively.

  She grabbed her cell phone and noticed the voice message light. She held the phone to her ear and nodded, her heart rate ramping up. Angela not only said she could bypass the computer lesson this morning, but gave her the information she needed to directly access Gracie’s daily life.

  Standing on the sidewalk outside her living quarters she pulled the blue media device from one of the deep pockets. Inserting the ear buds, she scrolled down the menu bar to “direct access.” With the blink of an eye Quinlan found herself standing beside Gracie, who sat on a barstool in her kitchen.

  Quinlan blinked hard. After all this time, here she stood back in Gracie’s kitchen. She pressed her hand to her chest to quiet the tha-thump of her heart and fought the urge to throw her arms around her daughter. She reached to stroke Grace’s wayward curls, but her hand passed through air.

  Grace scratched her head where Quinlan’s hand had been and took a sip of coffee. She picked up a pen and made a to-do list.

  Pay bills

  Store

  School – 12-3

  Josh - 3:45

  Hannah’s VB game

  Dinner

  Study

  “Pay bills?” Quinlan’s hand flew to her forehead. “Now, don’t you worry about that. I’ll take care of it,” Quinlan said, thankful she’d arrived in time. “You’re horrible at math.”

  Grace paused and looked around the kitchen.

  Quinlan froze. Did she hear me?

  Grace shrugged and stood.

  “Okay, let’s see.” Quinlan scanned the list and then walked the perimeter of the kitchen, tapping her chin. “What shall we do about dinner?”

  After rinsing out her coffee cup, Grace pulled three chicken breasts from t
he freezer.

  “What about Swiss mushroom burgers with some oven-baked fries?” Quinlan turned to see the chicken breasts and tilted her head. “Or chicken.” She rubbed her chin. “We’ll need a vegetable…and maybe a starch.”

  Grace placed the chicken in the refrigerator and pulled a box of mac and cheese from the pantry.

  “No, no, Gracie. That’s entirely too processed, don’t you think?” Quinlan waved in dismissal. “Give me a minute. I’ll think of something.”

  Grace ran her finger over the list, wrote broccoli next to store, crossed through dinner and left the kitchen.

  Glancing at the notepad Quinlan shoved her hands into her pockets. “Since when do you eat broccoli?” She looked up and saw Grace leaving the room. “I could barely get you to take a chewable vitamin.” Her lips pressed thin, she found Grace in the study sitting at the computer, a chart attached to a clipboard in her lap.

  Quinlan stepped up behind Grace in time to see the heading. Her mouth dropped open and then slammed shut.

  Bills – 1st & 15th of the Month

  “Are you serious?” Quinlan said. “Tell me you’re not going to—”

  Grace glanced over her shoulder and then turned back to the chart.

  “Does Adam know about this?” Quinlan, herself, glanced around the room. “Where is he, anyway?”

  Using a finger to rattle the inside of her ear, Grace clicked an icon, opening a spreadsheet program. She found the file she needed, made a few quick adjustments, clicked save and closed the program.

  Quinlan pointed stiff-armed at the monitor. “When did you learn to do that?”

  Next, Grace clicked the bank icon.

  “Now what?” Quinlan asked, a nervous tic twitching her left eye.

  Grace clicked bill pay and referred to the clipboard chart.

  “Hold on a minute, Gracie. Let’s think about this a minute.” Quinlan paced the floor behind Grace’s chair. “Computers can be tricky. And I certainly don’t think they’re safe enough to pay bills. We’ll need envelopes and stamps. Maybe a calculator.”

  Click, click. Click.

  Quinlan wrung her hands. She needed to put a stop to this nonsense before Gracie wrecked Adam’s entire accounting system.

  Grace maneuvered the mouse across the screen. Click. Click. Click.

  Cupping her hands around her mouth, Quinlan shouted, “You’re going too fast. This isn’t Monopoly, you know—not the kind that buys little green houses and red hotels!”

  Grace stopped for a minute, took her hands off the keyboard, and then resumed clicking.

  “Use one of the mediums.” Angela’s voice beamed through the earpieces.

  “Mediums, right,” Quinlan muttered. “Songs, television, commercials, bumper stickers, billboards….” Quinlan needed to act quickly. Grace and math? A really bad mix. Right up there with laxatives and sleeping pills.

  “The iPod, Quinlan. Use the iPod.”

  Quinlan scrambled through her pockets until she found the blue media device. Locating the menu bar, she scrolled and found mediums. Then the subtitle, songs. She thumbed through the list on the tiny screen, found a possible fit and aimed the device at Grace’s head.

  Stop, in the name of love,

  Before you break my heart.

  Think it o-o-over.

  “Seriously, Diana Ross?” Grace knocked the side of her head with her hand and then grabbed the piece of paper from the printer tray. “What is this, Golden Oldies?”

  Stunned, Quinlan stared. “You’re finished?”

  Grace checked off payees on the chart, filed her copy of the bills and left the study.

  Quinlan stared at the iPod, The Supremes blaring through her ear buds.

  Think it o-o-over.

  ~~~

  Back in her living quarters later that evening, Quinlan spent time fiddling with the media device. Her first attempt at saving Gracie had gone all wrong. Maybe she shouldn’t have blown off the RR&P last night. She needed a plan. Pushing the iPod aside, she repositioned her tacky Catwoman glasses and wrote “Saving Gracie” across the top of a piece of paper. She stared at the words.

  “What do I want to save her from?” Quinlan pulled off the glasses and rubbed her eyes. As the adult Kathryn, her life and mindset were controlled and clearly defined. She could spit out a course of action without blinking an eye. Now she felt more like the younger Kathryn—helpless and completely unsure of herself. Feelings she had been desperate to bury.

  ~~~

  As a young child, Kathryn knew she wanted to be a teacher. Her dolls and stuffed animals were her students. “Stop that nonsense,” her mother would say. Kathryn compensated by taking “the class” on a field trip in the backyard.

  Kathryn’s innate curiosity about life earned her the nickname “Little Question Mark” by her father. The closeness of their relationship irritated her mother, who referred to Kathryn as a “mistake.” Years later, when she and Ruth were in their teens, Ruth told of the still-born baby boy her mother had delivered only a year before Kathryn was born explaining, but not excusing, why she’d always been a disappointment to her mother.

  Along with her passion for learning, Kathryn loved music. Lying in bed at night she’d wail away, singing to the shadows on the wall from the tree outside her window; her audience. That is, until her mother would yell from down the hall to “stop that noise.” In fifth grade, Kathryn’s music teacher, who she adored, passed her by for selection in the school choir. It was then she realized she couldn’t sing. Well, of course she could sing, but not on key, which turned out to be a very sad day in her little girl life.

  Kathryn excelled at school, despite her mother’s scorn, and earned a partial academic scholarship her senior year to Sam Houston State Teacher’s College in Huntsville. She was one step closer to fulfilling her dream…to teach.

  During Christmas break of her junior year, Kathryn and Tommy, her college sweetheart, announced their engagement. Her mother, claiming Kathryn didn’t have the sense God gave a goose, vehemently opposed the engagement. Undeterred by her mother’s blatant slur of protests, or maybe because of it, Kathryn talked Tommy into eloping during spring break that same year.

  All Kathryn’s promises to continue her education fell on her mother’s deaf ears. She even went as far as refusing to acknowledge Kathryn’s existence. Her mother claimed she only had one daughter, Ruth, who often slipped away from her college campus in Nacogdoches for visits. Kathryn’s father made the hour drive from Houston to Huntsville each week to meet his daughter for lunch. She had every intention of keeping her promise about her education. However, she was ill prepared for the unexpected pregnancy that shortly followed.

  Guilt and disappointment from her mother manifested into horrendous morning sickness and serious depression. Kathryn barely completed her spring semester with a 1.4 GPA, which meant she lost her scholarship. The pregnancy, a difficult one, had her confined to bed rest for the remaining four months.

  Grace Elizabeth arrived April 4, 1964 after 36 hours of labor. The difficult delivery resulted in severe hemorrhaging, threatening Kathryn’s life. She underwent a complete hysterectomy two weeks shy of her twenty-first birthday.

  After her recovery Kathryn took a job at a local flower shop to help pay medical bills while Tommy worked a full-time job and attended night classes. Luckily, his parents lived in Huntsville and cared for Grace, sparing them the additional expense of daycare. Kathryn never returned to school.

  That dismal period of her life she referred to as “her darkness.” She refused to speak of it to anyone. When Grace was a year old Kathryn tried therapy for her lingering depression, but deemed it to be a waste of time when the therapist brought up painful issues surrounding her mother. Kathryn devised her own means of recovery, a survival plan which involved taking control of her life…and that she did. As long as she was in control, she couldn’t be hurt. She buried her pain. Deep.

  Kathryn placed Grace as the focal point of her world. She wanted to do all the
things for Grace her mother had never done for her. Kathryn hated the helplessness, desolation, and vulnerability she’d felt during “her darkness” and vowed never to feel that way again. So she grabbed the reins of her life and rallied, not quite realizing she’d harnessed the lives of Tommy and Grace also.

  She knew Tom was aware of her debacle and silently breathed a daily thank you for him never bringing up the subject. And Grace would never know. Kathryn’s life-long desire of becoming a teacher ended.

  ~~~

  A tear splashed onto the notepad. She reached for a Kleenex and attempted to wipe sadness from her eyes. It had been ages since she’d thought about that painful time long ago. Why now? Quinlan felt a weariness penetrate her bones. Her cell phone jangled in her pocket and she checked the caller ID. Ruby.

  “Hi Ruby,” Quinlan’s tone was flat. She was in no mood to talk to anyone.

  “Hey,” Ruby began. “You were supposed to call me today for your weekly contact report.”

  “Sorry. It was a busy day.” Quinlan’s voice was close to a whisper.

  “Yeah, I figured. That’s why I called. Didn’t want you to get in trouble or anything,” Ruby said.

  “Thanks.” Quinlan truly felt gratitude, though she knew her voice lacked sincerity.

  “So. How’s it going?” Ruby seemed oblivious to Quinlan’s affect.

  Quinlan could hear familiar gum smacks through the cell phone. “Fine,” she answered. “Everything’s fine.” She felt so tired.

  “Hey, have you seen Eddie?”

  “A couple of times, yes,” Quinlan answered.

  “You know he got promoted, don’t you?”

  “No!” Quinlan sat up with more strength than she knew she had. “Oh, I’m so glad.” Finally, something to brighten her mood.

  “Yeah, he got his green parachute and everything. Thinks he’s something special,” Ruby said. “Polishes that badge of his like he’s the new sheriff in town.”