Meet Me in Barcelona

by Mary Carter

  Boy, did Grace come to life on stage. Her eyes sparkled. She was confident and witty. And she was good. Damn good. What a gift. Carrie Ann felt that familiar tug of jealousy. She had always thought she’d be the one to make it. She would be the first female magician to rival the big boys. Carrie Ann Gilbert—CAG probably would be her stage name. Not the pretty assistant, but the mastermind. She’d have hot young men as her assistants, and she’d probably bed all of them. A wild child. Presto chango! Except Carrie Ann would never change. Why should she? She liked who she was. Unlike some people.

  Except Carrie Ann never had become famous. Grace, on the other hand, was on the verge. At least she had been. Was she really going to let that scumbag producer shame her? Carrie Ann wanted to knock some sense into Grace, then do something about the producer. Grace had a gift. It was a crime to walk away from talent like that. Carrie Ann hoped Grace and Jake had followed through with the festival. Singing in front of a huge crowd in Barcelona would do Grace a world of good. But Grace hadn’t mentioned it, and there was just no subtle way of bringing it up. Grace probably suspected Carrie Ann had something to do with it, but she wouldn’t know for sure. If Carrie Ann was going to sew up the perfect adventure, she was hardly going to point out the seams.

  Carrie Ann sat up straight, put on her best smile, and threw her hand in the air and waved it around. “Here, Gracie.” Grace’s head snapped up, and once again she didn’t look happy to see Carrie Ann. Grace approached slowly, a frown on her face.

  “Good morning,” Carrie Ann said.

  “Morning.” Grace sat down, spine straight, stiff. She looked around as if expecting someone to jump out at her.

  “How did you guys sleep?”

  “Fine, thanks. You?”

  “Oh. Well. I was a little wound up. Excited from seeing you, I guess. It was hard to sleep.”

  “I’m surprised you wanted to meet so early.”

  “Why? You pictured me as some sloth who doesn’t get up before noon?” Carrie Ann kept a smile on her face, but she didn’t feel it. Was it going to be like this the whole time? Pulling teeth to get Grace to talk to her? And normally, Carrie Ann didn’t get up before noon. She was making a real effort here. Couldn’t Grace see that? They would have a drink, loosen up. “Do you want a mimosa?”

  “No. Just coffee.”

  “You have to wave to the waiters here like you’re trying to bring in an airplane.” Carrie Ann once again put her arm up, and when the waiter arrived she ordered two mimosas and two coffees.

  “I didn’t want a mimosa,” Grace said.

  “No worries. I’ll drink for the both of us.”

  Grace smiled, a pitiful attempt, and looked around her. “The street performers are something here, aren’t they?”

  Finally. Some conversation. “They’re totally nuts!” Carrie Ann said. She almost told her about Rafael, but stopped herself. Carrie Ann wanted to reach across the table and touch Grace. She wanted to take her hands in hers. She wanted to get on her knees and beg Grace to be nice to her. “It’s so good to see you.”

  Grace looked her in the eye. Grace had changed. She wasn’t the shy little girl she once had been. “Is it?”

  “How can you ask that? Of course it is.” This time Carrie Ann did reach across the table. And even though Grace didn’t squeeze her hand back, she allowed Carrie Ann to touch her for a moment. “I’ve never stopped thinking of you.”

  “The last time I saw you, it wasn’t under the best circumstances, Carrie Ann.”

  “Oh, God, I know. It was awful. Just awful. But the past is the past. I totally forgive you.”

  The waiter came just then with their drinks. Grace’s mouth was hanging open. Okay, Carrie Ann had been pushing it with the “I forgive you,” but really Grace was the one who had betrayed her. Grace should be sorry. Carrie Ann was being the bigger person, and Grace couldn’t even be grateful.

  Grace picked up her coffee, then put it down. “I have to ask you something.”

  “Anything.”

  “Did you come into our apartment the other day and move a coffee cup?”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “No. Someone came in while I was in the square with the book you left me—and he or she moved Jake’s coffee cup.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. Seriously.”

  “Weird.”

  “Was it you?”

  “I think I already answered that.”

  “Whose apartment is it?”

  “Belongs to the parents of a friend of mine.”

  “Do you think this friend could have come into our apartment?”

  “Grace. You sound totally paranoid. You know that, right?” Damn Rafael. She was going to pluck his feathers out one by one.

  “By your own admission you’ve been cyber-stalking me. You strung me along with this whole mystery trip. It’s within the realm of possibility.”

  Carrie Ann leaned back, downed her mimosa, and felt tears threatening. She finished the second mimosa and stood up. She threw twenty euros on the table and started to walk away. Screw Grace. It took about fifteen steps. Just when Carrie Ann thought it was never going to happen, she heard someone running behind her.

  “Carrie Ann. Carrie Ann.” She stopped, turned. Grace was out of breath, and finally there was a little bit of kindness in her eyes. It made Carrie Ann furious. She reached in her purse and pulled out the stack of letters.

  “What’s that?” Grace said.

  “Tell me again how you never lie,” Carrie Ann said. Grace just looked at her. “I thought so. These are letters. All addressed to Grace Sawyer. All marked ‘Return to Sender.’ ” Carrie Ann held the pile out accusingly. “I wouldn’t have had to stalk you if you had answered even one of my letters.”

  “Letters?” Carrie Ann let them drop with a thud. She watched Grace bend and pick them up. “You sent them to my parents,” Grace said after a moment.

  Carrie Ann pointed to RETURN TO SENDER. “That’s your handwriting, Grace.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Grace clutched the letters and searched her mind for an excuse. “My mom and I have near-identical handwriting.”

  “You want to stick with that, little Miss Truth-teller? So I guess you’re saying your mom doesn’t even let you think for yourself?”

  Grace held up her finger. “One rule. Do not talk about my mother.”

  “I suppose there are other topics that are off-limits too,” Carrie Ann said.

  “What am I doing here, Carrie Ann? What do you want?”

  “Read them, Grace. I want you to read them.” Carrie Ann wanted to walk away for real now. It was bad enough that Grace had rejected one hundred of her letters, flat out rejected them in bold, black ink, but how dare she not even admit to it? Carrie Ann had expected more. Tears. Excuses. Stammers. Explanations. That old familiar fury, her constant friend, churned within her.

  Grace had told Jake that her parents had taken in all boys! As if she could erase Carrie Ann. After all Carrie Ann had done for Grace. Grace had said she loved her too. She had said they were family. Carrie Ann felt as if she had a giant claw tearing at her heart.

  This had been a colossal mistake. She felt that now. She would tell the boys the plan was off. “Good-bye, Grace.” Carrie Ann started walking away.

  “I’m not chasing you anymore,” Grace said. Carrie Ann stopped and turned around. They stood, facing each other in the middle of La Rambla. Tourists, and street performers, and impatient locals rushed by and around them, but the two only saw each other, cocooned in their own little bubble of pain.

  “Of course not,” Carrie Ann said. “Why should you? You have Jake. You have your family. Of which I’m obviously not a part.” How could she have been so stupid? An icy-hot feeling of shame invaded her. How she’d always clung to the idea that no matter what else happened to her in this world, she had Grace. That family was the one you chose and someone had chosen her. Why did everyone always walk away from her?

  “I’
m sorry you haven’t had a good life—”

  “Me too,” Carrie Ann said.

  “I—I didn’t mean to hurt you, Carrie Ann.”

  “But you did, Grace. You really did.”

  “And you hurt me. But neither of us can change the past. So why am I here, Carrie Ann?”

  “Because I have no one else. And I had to give it a shot.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m in trouble. I told you that.”

  “What kind of trouble, exactly?”

  For a second, Carrie Ann focused on the hills in the distance. Then she looked Grace in the eye. “I think he’s going to kill me.” This was it. Carrie Ann had Grace’s attention now.

  “Who?”

  Hadn’t Grace been listening the other night? “My husband. My psycho husband.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I tried to leave him. Because that’s what psychos do.”

  “Have you gone to the police?”

  Carrie Ann scoffed. “I have a restraining order, but most of the women who are killed by boyfriends or husbands are killed after they get the restraining order. The lady at the court office told me that. Can you believe that?”

  “Carrie Ann.”

  “It’s true. I’m worried it’s only a matter of time before he finds me here.”

  “And so you invited Jake and me to be a part of your drama?”

  “It was a mistake. I see that now. But I thought I should warn you.”

  “Warn me? About your husband?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would you—”

  “I married Stan Gale.” The words had the exact impact Carrie Ann had expected. Grace froze. Her face paled. And her mouth literally dropped open. Carrie Ann had to admit that it was totally satisfying. It took Grace a moment before she spoke.

  “Stan?” Grace said. “You married Stan?”

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m guessing he’s changed quite a bit?”

  “Why, Grace, I didn’t realize you were so superficial.”

  “Carrie Ann. He was overweight. He had acne. He had braces. He had a profuse sweating problem. He had those greasy bangs that were constantly covering his eyes—”

  “He lost weight, his skin cleared up, the braces are gone, his hair no longer hangs in his eyes, and for all I know he got Botox in his armpits because he smells just fine!”

  “But.”

  “But, but, but.”

  “But he was just plain creepy!”

  “I’m surprised you remember anything about him at all. As I recall you couldn’t even make eye contact with him.”

  “Because he was creepy!”

  “And you really hurt him.”

  “Me?”

  “Do you honestly think he didn’t know how you felt? That you were repulsed by him?”

  “It wasn’t just because of his looks.”

  “You could have fooled me.”

  “Carrie Ann. He was—”

  “Creepy. I know. You’ve said it.” A woman with a million shopping bags slammed into Carrie Ann. Grace immediately caught her arm. She pointed to a nearby bench. They walked over and sat, each looking anywhere but at each other for a few minutes.

  “You are not married to Stan Gale.” Grace said it as if it were a fact.

  “I’m done talking about this.” Carrie Ann brought out her pack of cigarettes, even though for once, she didn’t feel like a smoke. Instead, she took one out and simply rolled it between her fingers.

  “Come on. Just admit it. You’re putting me on.”

  “Swear to God, hope to die.”

  “After everything that happened? After what happened with Lionel—”

  “We are not going to talk about that.” Now Carrie Ann did light her cigarette. She could never talk about Lionel without smoking.

  “My point exactly. You actually want me to believe you married Stan Gale?”

  “You don’t understand. It’s different now. At least I thought it was.”

  “I don’t believe you. I just can’t believe you.”

  “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Warn me? Why do you have to warn me?”

  Carrie Ann blew smoke out, then offered the pack to Grace. This time, after a slight pause, Grace took one. “Because his looks might have changed, but his personality hasn’t. And I might have told him a certain version of the truth when it came to you.”

  “A version of the truth?” Grace placed the cigarette in her mouth and let Carrie Ann light it. “What version would that be?”

  “I told him that you were the one who spread the rumors about Lionel.”

  A coughing fit ensued. Carrie Ann waited. Grace crushed the cigarette out on the bench, then threw it to the ground, and covered it with her foot. “That’s a lie.” She sprang from the bench. “You know I didn’t. I didn’t say a word to anyone!”

  Carrie Ann rose slowly and squared off with Grace once again. “Oh, I know that, Gracie Ann. More than anyone else on earth I know that.”

  “And you’ve hated me ever since.” Grace said it slowly as if she were just now working it out.

  “You were supposed to be the one person who believed in me.” Carrie Ann stepped as close to Grace as she dared. “But I’ll forgive you. I’ll forgive everything if you just help me now.”

  “You married Stan. I can’t—I don’t even know how that could have possibly come about.”

  “Why? Because he was always so in love with you?”

  “What? Oh my God. No. No.”

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t know. The more you hated him, the more he loved you.”

  “I have to go. This is crazy. This is all crazy.” Grace stepped forward, and Carrie Ann grabbed her hand.

  “You can’t walk away now, Grace. You’re in this too.”

  Grace yanked her hand away. “How am I in this?”

  “Have you ever walked through a swamp, Grace?”

  “I feel like I’m in one now,” Grace said.

  “So you should know. It doesn’t matter how prepared you think you are. The long boots. Maybe a stick. A rope in case you sink. But even if you make it across, and manage to lift your foot onto dry land, you still have all this muck clinging to your boots. Muck, and weeds, and mud, and sticks, and all sorts of gunk, clinging to your boots. Weighing you down with every step you take.”

  “For once in your life, Carrie Ann, stop talking in riddles, and tell me what’s going on,” Grace said.

  “You can’t walk away from the past. It still clings to you.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you to acknowledge what you did to me.” A few people were looking at them now, as if they were putting on a theatrical experience. Let them, Carrie Ann thought. Let the whole world hear.

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Exactly. Exactly, Grace. Except that doing nothing was certainly doing something. And saying something.”

  “What was I doing, Carrie Ann? What was I saying?”

  “You were leaving me in danger! You were saying I was a liar. How could you? I really want to know. How could you?” Carrie Ann was screaming now. She’d better be careful or she was going to physically attack Grace. The need for release scraped at her insides. The only thing that stopped her was the totally stunned look on Grace’s face.

  “I didn’t believe you.” Grace’s voice was barely a whisper. “That’s how. Is that what you want me to say?”

  “Yes,” Carrie Ann said. “That’s what I wanted you to say.” Carrie Ann started to walk. Grace followed at a distance.

  “You were always telling tales, Carrie Ann.”

  “Not always.”

  “Pretty much always.”

  “You’ve changed, Grace.” Carrie Ann picked up her pace, and Grace had to run to catch up with her again.

  “I’ve grown up.” Grace grabbed Carrie Ann’s arm, forcing her to stop.
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  “I’m happy for you,” Carrie Ann said. “I guess that makes me Peter Pan.”

  “Please,” Grace said. “Don’t be like this.”

  “Like what? I just thought you should know. About Stan.”

  “That—he blames me?”

  “For the record. I tried to take it back. I tried to tell him it wasn’t you—”

  “It was you!”

  “Me? My God, Grace. Use your head. Why would I want to spread that rumor?”

  “Because I wouldn’t.”

  “I wanted you to tell one person, Grace. Just one.” Carrie Ann poked her finger at Grace as she spoke, wanting desperately to make contact, poke Grace in the chest until she cracked.

  “My mother wouldn’t have changed her mind.”

  “We’ll never know, will we?”

  “Just admit it, Carrie Ann. You started the rumors.”

  “No, Grace. If you believe nothing else that I’ve ever said or ever will say, hear this loud and clear. I swear on my own grave. You were the only person I told.”

  “Then who did?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Grace was entirely off balance now. She didn’t know where to put her hands. They played with her hair, then covered her mouth, then folded across her chest. She looked as if she were drowning in air. “I can’t do this. I won’t. I won’t fall for your lies again. My father was right. You’re the girl who cried wolf.”

  Carrie Ann took a step back, swallowed the lump in her throat. “Your father?” she said. Him too. “I see.” Grace hadn’t believed her. Still didn’t believe her. Wouldn’t believe her for the rest of her life. “Sounds like it’s been a while since you’ve heard that story, Grace.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you’ve forgotten the end.” Grace just stood. And stared. “Do you remember the end?”

  “I remember.”

  “Then say it.”

  “I don’t want—”