Disgrace

by Brittainy C. Cherry

  “Are you always this hard?”

  He shut his eyes, and his bottom lip twitched a bit. “Yes.”

  “If I hated this town as much as you two did, I’d move on.”

  “To what? This is the only damn home we got.” He shifted his feet around. I saw the debate in him as he battled with himself about whether to open up to me or stay shut down. “I went to her, ya know—your mother,” he told me, his voice cold as stone.

  “What?”

  “I was sixteen when I went to your house. I remember it like it was yesterday. I knocked on the door and spoke to your mother, asking her for help. It was right after some assholes jumped me and beat the shit out of me as I was going to get groceries.”

  “What did my mom say?”

  “My dad made his choices; therefore, the townspeople are allowed to make theirs, too. She said she didn’t owe us a thing.”

  No…that’s impossible.

  “You’re lying. I know my mother can be hard sometimes, but she’s not evil. She wouldn’t say that. She’d never turn her back on someone like that,” I swore to him. “Especially not on a kid.”

  “Whatever you say, princess. You keep believing in that precious queen of yours,” he barked. “I shouldn’t have expected you to understand shit, based on the people who raised you.”

  “What made you such a jerk?” I snapped his way. His jawline was chiseled, and the intensity in his stare made my body slightly tremble. But then, there was a moment. It was tiny, so tiny that anyone who wasn’t zooming in would’ve missed it, but I noticed. He blinked, and his eyes softened. He stepped back as if my question had stunned him. The corner of his mouth twitched, and I swore I’d never seen a man look so broken.

  He knew the answer to my question. He knew exactly what made him the man he was, and that fact truly hurt him to his core.

  “Jackson,” I whispered, feeling as if I’d crossed an invisible line.

  “Can you do me a favor?” he growled low as his stare once again grew dark. “Can you just leave? Go run off to your mommy. I’m sure she has more lies to feed you,” he breathed out before he turned around and left, leaving chills racing down my spine. He seemed to leave that impression on me every time we went our separate ways.

  I walked back through town, and when I heard the high-pitched voice of Charlotte Lawrence calling my name, I began walking faster, pretending not to hear her. Though, she stayed right on my path.

  “Grace! Grace! It’s me, Charlotte!” she shouted as I listened to her heels click-clacking against the sidewalk.

  With a deep breath, I paused my steps, knowing she would’ve chased me throughout the whole town for as long as it took to get my attention.

  I turned around and saw Charlotte in all her glory. She graduated in the same class as Finn and had been in love with my husband for as long as I’d been. Though, she’d deny it forever and always.

  She wore a yellow sundress and bright pink five-inch heels, which were her staple. I’d never seen Charlotte in any other type of shoe.

  “Oh, hi, Charlotte,” I said, giving her the fakest smile.

  She bent over for a minute, catching her breath. “Oh Mylanta, Grace, I didn’t think I’d catch you.”

  “Well, you did.”

  “I tried talking to you yesterday when I saw you going to the bookshop, but I don’t think you heard me calling your name.”

  No, I did.

  “Oh? I’m sorry I missed you. I actually better get going, though. I have a lot—”

  Charlotte placed her hand on my shoulder, ignoring my words. “You doing okay? You know, I’ve heard some rumors floating around about Finn and you, and—”

  “We’re fine,” I lied with a big, bright smile. “Finn and I are fine.” I felt somewhat bad for lying, but the last person I wanted to deal with was Charlotte Lawrence. Charlotte was the editor in chief of Chester’s newspaper and the nosiest woman in town. The newspaper read more so like a gossip column than an actual paper. She lived her life by the theme, “If it bleeds, it leads.” Plus, due to her love for my husband, she was probably doing a praise dance when the rumors started to spread.

  “It’s complicated, though, right?” she asked. “People said they saw you two arguing outside Autumn’s house? Is that true?” she queried. “And did you slap him? I heard that, too.”

  “Charlotte.” I sighed, my voice low.

  She smiled big. “Sorry. You’re right. That’s none of my business. Lord knows marriages are hard work.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Charlotte, you’ve never been married.”

  “Yes, but I can only imagine how hard it must be going through a divorce,” she echoed.

  “No one said we were going through a divorce.”

  “Oh? So…you’re staying together…?” she asked, crossing her arms and zooming in to see my reaction.

  “You know, Charlotte, I don’t really feel comfortable talking about this with you right now.”

  “Of course, I won’t pressure you to talk. But if you ever need listening ears, I’m always here for you. You know, I always envied Finn’s and your relationship. I always said if I married a man, I’d want him to be just like Finn. He treated you like a queen.”

  “Yeah,” I huffed. “Something like that. Okay well, I better get—”

  “Oh, Grace! I almost forgot,” she cut in, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Me and a few ladies from town get together at my parents’ house every Friday night for chitchat and empowerment. I wanted to invite you. It’s so important as a woman to feel as if you have a tribe of females behind you to help lift you up. We drink wine, discuss current events, and push one another to be our best. Why, just last week we helped coach Lacey Weeds to apply for a different spot at the newspaper. She wanted more of a role, and us girls helped her realize her worth and gave her that extra push to go after it. Of course, I had to turn down her request when she came to me at work, but at least she tried for it, which was the important part.”

  “You told her to go for a job position, and then told her she couldn’t have it when she came to you?”

  Charlotte pursed her lips together. “Yes, bless her heart, she just wasn’t a right fit. But now she can try again next year.” Wow. What a gem Charlotte was. “Anyway, I’m sure we could help you, and we’d love your help inspiring each other.”

  “I’m actually busy that day, and—”

  “Really? Because your mom said you were free and you’d definitely be there. It’s at seven p.m., and I put you down for a dessert. I hope that’s fine. Okay, Grace, I gotta run! See you Friday!” She blew kisses my way and hurried away before I could even disagree.

  I guessed I needed to find a brownie recipe sooner than later.

  11

  Jackson

  Grace gave her time and energy to any and everyone in town without any thought to it. I’d seen different nosy individuals who thought it was their job to butt into her personal life stopping her all the time. Yet instead of telling them to fuck off as she should’ve, she smiled, stood tall, and responded to their questions with such elegance.

  It was sickening to watch.

  They were emotionally draining her, and she was giving herself to them as if she hadn’t even cared a bit for their bluntness and disrespect.

  “Well, bless your heart, Gracelyn Mae. I don’t even know what I’d do if my marriage was on the rocks. But you’re strong. I’m sure you’ll make it through. Plus, you’re not that old, so maybe you’ll find someone else. Or maybe Finn will take you back. Otherwise, there are always cats. I’m praying for you, sweetheart,” an old woman told Grace in the marketplace while Grace was simply trying to buy flowers. She’d been standing there for over ten minutes, trying to check out, but people kept butting into her time and space as though they didn’t give a damn about her feelings at all.

  Once the old hag walked away, I grumbled as I brushed past Grace. “You just allow anyone to treat you like crap, huh?” I asked her.

  She turne
d my way, and goddamn, her eyes were still beautiful. I wondered when that would go away.

  She blinked once. “What are you talking about?”

  “For the past forever minutes, people have been so belittling to you.”

  “What? No, they haven’t. They are just giving me their prayers.”

  “With prayers like that, who needs curses?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about, Jackson?”

  “Everyone in town has been eating you alive over the past few days, and you’re just allowing it to happen.”

  “Have you been watching me?”

  “No.”

  Yes.

  Maybe.

  She cleared her throat. “Well, all I’m saying is, you don’t know these people like I do. They are just being caring, that’s all.”

  “They are abusing you, and you’re freely allowing it!” I barked, annoyed by how ignorant she was being. They were pretty much spitting in her face, and she was pretending it wasn’t happening.

  “Why do you even care, Jackson?” she wondered out loud, raising an eyebrow.

  “I don’t,” I snapped.

  “Then why are you standing here talking about it?”

  I released a low growl. “You’re right. Go ahead, let them mock you to your face. Let them treat you like shit, look down on you, and suck you dry of all your energy. But when the day comes that you’re burnt the complete fuck out, remember I told you so.”

  “How can you be so sure about that, huh? How can you be so positive that people are using me?”

  “Because I know how people work. They think so little of you, and you know why?”

  “Why?” she asked, her voice unsteady.

  “Because you think so little of yourself. People only treat you the way you treat yourself. And I know exactly what they are going to do to you if you keep this up.” I leaned in closer to her, and our eyes stayed locked. We were so close that I felt her uneven breaths against my skin, and I was certain she felt mine. “They’re gonna bleed you out till you’re nothing, and then they’re gonna ask how you died.”

  She swallowed hard, and her eyes watered over, but she stood as tall as she could and tried her best to hide the trembling in her hands as she held her flowers.

  “Let me guess,” I said. “This is the part where you cry.”

  “Yes.” She nodded slow, taking a deep breath. “And this is the part where you leave.”

  The corner of my mouth twitched, and I turned to walk away when she called me once more. “Why do you treat yourself like that?”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “You said people treat you the way you treat yourself. Then why do you choose to treat yourself like a monster?”

  Her words pushed me, and I almost wavered. “Because that’s exactly what I am.”

  * * *

  Jackson

  Eight Years Old

  “This is stupid!” I snapped, knocking my canvas over in the open field as Ma tried to teach me a new technique for the sunset. She’d been showing me for over an hour, and I couldn’t do it. It was stupid, and art was stupid, and I was done with it all.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Ma remarked, arching her eyebrow. “What was that? Since when do we act out like that?”

  “I can’t do it! I don’t want to do this,” I said, swallowing hard. I was angry, and I didn’t want to paint anymore. I just wanted to go home.

  Not to our new home, but our old one.

  The one where I had a few friends.

  “What’s wrong?” Ma asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Jackson, what is it? I know you’re not mad at the painting, because you were doing great. So tell me the truth. What’s wrong?”

  I took a deep breath. “I don’t understand why we have to live in this stupid town! Nobody likes me, and they just pick on me about everything. I hate it here, and I want to move!”

  “Are people bullying you again?” she asked me.

  Tears fell from my eyes. She said “again” like everyone had stopped bullying me at some point. I was tired of people judging me for how I looked. I was tired of people laughing at me because sometimes I couldn’t score a goal in gym class. I was tired of not fitting in.

  I was tired.

  “Come here,” she told me.

  “No.”

  “Jackson Paul.”

  I sighed.

  I walked over to her and she took my hands into hers. “What are you?” she asked me.

  I mumbled a word.

  “Louder,” Ma said.

  “I said I’m extraordinary.”

  “That’s right, and even on the bad days, you are extraordinary. These mean people, they don’t get to run you away. They don’t get to hurt you, and come Monday, I’ll be marching down to the school to talk to the principal about doing something about this. But we are staying in this town.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we don’t run. We don’t let people run us away. We have a right to be here, to be happy, and that’s exactly what we are going to do, okay? We are going to be happy.”

  I sniffled. “Okay.”

  “And you are going to get this technique down tonight. Do you know why?”

  I sniffled. “Because I’m extraordinary?”

  “Yes, my love. You. Are. Extraordinary.”

  12

  Grace

  Finn had been calling me each day, but I never answered. Every time he left a voice message, I deleted it. I knew if I listened to his voice, I would miss him, and he didn’t deserve to be missed. My brain understood that fact, yet my heart had its own thoughts on the subject. Avoiding him was the best option for me.

  I did my best to keep to myself. When I went to The Silent Bookshop, Jackson was normally there, yet we didn’t interact. He sat in the far-left corner of the shop while I sat at the table in the far-right.

  Sometimes, we’d cross paths while searching for books, but he made it his mission not to look my way, so I did my best to stay out of his way, too.

  Something about him made me so uneasy. The way he approached me in the marketplace was so odd. He came off so aggressive but also protective all at once, and it gave my head the biggest migraine.

  I did catch him one afternoon with Tucker, and Josie wasn’t lying—it made my heart swell. I was walking through Kap Park when he and Tucker arrived. Tucker seemed to have trouble walking on his own, so Jackson carried him in his arms. Jackson wore a backpack, and once they found a spot in the sun, he pulled out a blanket and chew toys for Tucker. He laid his old faithful down on the blanket and just sat with his dog. Every now and then, he’d pet Tucker’s back, and say, “Good boy.” It almost looked as if Tucker was smiling as he slowly wagged his tail and rested.

  Jackson cared for his dog with nothing but love. I didn’t know a man like him could care for something in that way. His love was so quiet, yet somehow so loud. The way he loved Tucker was the way every person should’ve been loved: unconditionally.

  When he looked up and saw me watching them, I started walking away fast.

  He didn’t look at me the same way he looked at Tucker.

  When Jackson’s eyes locked with mine, I only saw hate.

  * * *

  On Friday evening, Judy joined me at the bookshop, something she never did. Yet she’d been very close since I’d been back to town, making sure I was okay. She wasn’t as big on reading as I was, so she casually flipped through some pages as we sat in my corner.

  “We can go,” I whispered, watching my sister twiddle her thumbs from boredom as she leaned back in her chair.

  “Shh…” she scolded me. “Silence is golden.”

  I laughed. “You’re bored out of your mind.”

  “What are you talking about? This is the best. Books and words, words and books. It’s amazing.”

  A person shushed us from afar, and we couldn’t help but snicker some more. “Want to go get ice cream?”

  Her eyes widened with gle
e. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

  As we began to walk away, I glanced in the direction of Jackson’s corner and noticed he was gone. I wondered what books he’d taken with him that night.

  Then I wondered why I wondered.

  We walked the streets of Chester, Judy talking about how the planning for the Peach Festival was coming along, and I was listening closely until my eye caught a crowd of teenagers, laughing and throwing items at something. A few had a garbage bin in their hands and dumped it upside down on the thing. The closer I drew, the more nervous I became.

  They weren’t throwing trash at something—they were hitting someone.

  “Hey!” I shouted, hurrying over. “Stop that!” I ordered. The second the kids turned around and saw me, they took off running in different directions. As I neared the individual covered in trash, I became concerned.

  “Mr. Emery, are you okay…?” I asked, bending down to help him up.

  He was completely plastered, and the smell of whiskey and urine was strong. He’d wet his pants. Oh no…

  “Is he okay?” Judy asked, her voice shaky.

  “Mr. Emery, let me help you up,” I said as he batted his hand at me.

  “Leave me alone!” he barked.

  “But, here. I can help you get home, and—”

  “I said piss off, b-b-bitch!” he hollered, slurring his words. I didn’t take offense to them, though. I doubted he even knew who I was at the moment. His eyes were hardly opened. He was so far gone.

  “Grace, maybe we should just let him be…” Judy whispered, her voice shaky with nerves.

  “I’m not going to leave him here,” I told her.

  “I can go get Sheriff Camps,” she offered, making me hastily turn to face her.

  “Judy, no. No cops. I can handle this.” The last thing Jackson needed was the stress of bailing his father out of jail.