Disgrace

by Brittainy C. Cherry

  When I finally let go, I walked over to the window and took a deep breath.

  “He’s in a coma,” I told her, my voice cracking. “He’s been this way for days now, and if he doesn’t wake up…” My words faded off, and I jerked my hand through my hair. “I hate him,” I told her. “I’ve hated him for so long—for the person he became, for the person he turned me into—but if anything happens to him…if I lose him…” I shut my eyes. “He’s my dad, Grace. He’s all I have, and if I lose him, I lose my world.”

  I wiped a stubborn tear that fell from my eye.

  “Jackson, come here,” she said softly. I hated how her gentle voice brought a small dash of ease to my mind.

  “No,” I said. “I’m fine. How did you even know I was here? I asked Judy not to tell you.”

  “And she didn’t, but you live in Chester, Georgia—word spreads quickly, even to Atlanta. Now, come here.”

  “I’m fine, really. You can go,” I told her, looking at my father.

  “Jackson,” she said, this time placing her hand on my shoulder. She then held her other hand out toward me. “Please, come here.”

  I sighed and placed my hand in hers. She pulled me into another tight hug.

  She wasn’t a mirage.

  She wasn’t a dream.

  She was real…she was there.

  “I’m okay,” I told her.

  “You’re lying,” she replied.

  “Gracelyn—”

  “No.” She shook her head as she laid it against my chest. “You don’t get to argue your way out of this one, okay? You have to let me hold you for a while. So just be quiet and don’t let go, okay?”

  I took a deep breath and pulled her closer to me.

  Comfort.

  I wasn’t used to comfort, but pain I knew a lot about. That afternoon, Grace gave me so much comfort, and even if I had wanted to let her go, my heart wouldn’t have allowed me to do it.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, pulling her even closer and resting my forehead against hers. “Thank you for coming back.”

  “Always,” she said softly, her exhalations falling against my lips. “And always.”

  46

  Grace

  I hadn’t left the hospital since I’d learned Jackson’s father had been admitted. I wandered off to go find food and coffee for Jackson because I knew he wasn’t going to leave that spot, and as I was heading back to the room, I felt chills race up my back.

  “Grace, what are you doing here?”

  I turned around to see Finn staring my way. “What do you mean what am I doing here? Jackson’s father is here, and I’m staying by Jackson’s side.”

  “He called you?” he said, sounding somewhat surprised.

  “No, but I’m surprised you didn’t. I know we are going through things, Finley, but for you not to let me know Jackson’s father was here… You should’ve told me.”

  “I couldn’t. Patient-doctor confidentiality.”

  “Oh, screw your confidentiality, Finn. You could’ve told me!”

  “No, I couldn’t have, and frankly, I don’t know how it got back to you,” he said.

  “I told her,” Autumn replied, walking up behind the two of us.

  “You what?!” he barked at her. “Why would you do that?”

  “I just figured…” She sighed. “I walked past Jackson’s room and saw him sitting there alone. His uncle went to work, and Jackson had been alone all day. I just thought he could use someone.”

  “That wasn’t your place,” Finn growled, growing red in the face. “You crossed a line.”

  “I’m happy she crossed it,” I told him. I couldn’t look at Autumn because seeing her still seared the broken pieces of my heart.

  “It wasn’t her place, and Grace…Jackson Emery isn’t the type of person you need to be around.”

  “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

  “He’s dangerous—violent.”

  “We aren’t doing this again, Finn.” It felt like we were running on the same hamster wheel getting nowhere every time we crossed paths. “You started that fight.”

  “He’s the one who swung!”

  “You gave him a black eye!”

  “He deserved it!”

  “You don’t get to decide that. You went to him and started a fight! He did nothing wrong,” I snapped back at him.

  “He’s a burden in your life. You shouldn’t even be friends with him.”

  “You don’t get to make those decisions for me.”

  “She’s right, Finn,” Autumn said, stepping into the conversation.

  “Autumn, will you mind your own fucking business for a second?! I’m trying to have a conversation with my wife here!” he barked, and as the words rolled off his tongue, I felt how they must’ve stung Autumn.

  His wife.

  I finally looked her way and saw the heaviness in her stare.

  Then came the embarrassment, the guilt, the shame.

  “Sorry. By all means, have your talk with your wife,” she said, before turning to walk away.

  Finn sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, that’s not what I meant. I just…” His voice faded off, and Autumn kept walking. “Shit!” He stood there for a moment, staring at me, unsure what to say. “I’m not sure what to do,” he confessed.

  I inhaled deeply and shook my head once. “You have two choices: you can stay here with me, or you can go after her,” I told him straightforwardly. “But trust me, staying here with me isn’t going to get you anywhere whatsoever.”

  He sighed and nodded. Then he turned and walked in Autumn’s direction.

  “And Finley?”

  He looked back toward me with those blue eyes I used to love so much. “Yes?”

  “You don’t have a wife anymore. It’s time to let me go.”

  Not another word was spoken because he knew. He already knew we were over and done.

  It was no secret that our story had reached its final chapter, and some stories didn’t get the happily ever after.

  Some stories simply ended.

  *

  Mike hadn’t awoken for two days, and the worry that filled me was sickening. Jackson was falling apart, and I wasn’t certain how to keep him together. We sat on the couch in the hospital room, and I lay against him as he closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. Sometimes I’d bring a novel with me and read out loud to him to try to keep his mind from spiraling.

  “We should go to your place so you can shower,” I told him, and he shook his head.

  “I don’t want to leave.”

  “It’s been days, Jackson. The moment anything changes, they will let you know. We should just get you home for some rest, just for a few hours.”

  He nodded slowly and finally agreed.

  We walked back in complete silence, and when I saw his body began to fold, I placed my hand in his and gave it a light squeeze so he knew he wasn’t walking the path alone.

  Once we got to his place, I turned on his shower and grabbed him a change of clothes. I set the clothes on the bathroom counter then went to grab him from the living room.

  He was standing in front of his mother’s paintings, staring at them with such sadness in his eyes.

  “Your shower’s ready,” I told him.

  “Thank you.”

  He cleared his throat and walked into the bathroom. Then he peeked his head out. “Grace?”

  “Yes?”

  “Come in with me?”

  Yes.

  I went into the bathroom with him, and we took off one another’s clothing so slowly. The only sound was from the water streaming from the showerhead. I climbed into the tub first, and he followed me. We stayed quiet, him rubbing soap against my back, and me lathering his hair with shampoo. We cleansed our skin, our hurts, our fears, and when the soap washed away from our bodies, we remained standing under the hot water.

  Jackson pressed his forehead to mine and closed his eyes. I felt his breaths coating my skin as
he inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. “I can’t lose him, Grace,” he said softly, and I watched as his tears intermixed with the water falling against his skin. “I can’t lose him.”

  I felt the heaviness of his words, and I wasn’t certain how to fix this, how to fix his heartbreak, or how to heal his father, so for the first time in a while, I did the only thing I could think to do when life felt out of control.

  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and began to pray.

  Dear God, it’s me, Gracelyn Mae…

  47

  Jackson

  He wasn’t waking up, and each day that passed made it more unlikely that he would. On Sunday morning, I was tired of looking at his small figure in that hospital bed, but I wasn’t certain what more I could do. I couldn’t leave for long periods of time because I felt he’d pass away while I was gone, and I wouldn’t be there when it happened.

  I knew it sounded stupid, but when I lost my mother, she was alone. She’d died alone, by herself, and I couldn’t imagine that happening with my father.

  I’d never forgive myself if I wasn’t there beside him when he either woke up or fell asleep forever.

  “We’ll have to start making big decisions soon,” Finn told me, standing in the hospital room as Grace stood in the far corner. Whenever he came around, she made sure to drop hold of my hand, just to make it a little more comfortable for everyone.

  Finn went on about options, and then even mentioned that my dad might not ever come out of the coma so next steps needed to be addressed.

  “You mean unplugging his machines?” I asked him.

  He frowned. “I mean making the best choice for his life. I’ll give you some time to think everything over.”

  I nodded, and before he left, he glanced at Grace one more time.

  “He still loves you,” I whispered, lowering my head and staring at my hands. I didn’t know why that bothered me, but it did. I hadn’t known Grace for long at all, and we had made it very clear where we stood with one another. Yet, still, seeing how he looked at her hurt me.

  Part of my mind wondered if, over time, she’d ever look at him in the same way again.

  “He loves the idea of me,” she said matter-of-factly. “But truthfully, he doesn’t even know me anymore. Plus, I think it’s more of a ‘I want what I can’t have’ type of thing. He only wants me because he thinks you have me.”

  I turned toward her a bit and gave her a broken smile. I wanted to speak my mind. I wanted to open up my heart and tell her what it’d been feeling, but I held my tongue.

  Late that evening, she’d be on her way back to Atlanta to fall into her future, and I’d still be in Chester, stuck in my past.

  But, if there was ever a way, I’d wish she could be mine because so many parts of me wished I was hers.

  “I was thinking,” she told me, walking back over to me on the couch. She sat down, and her hands fell into mine. “Every now and then, my family hosts a person in need, and we do prayer and a dinner to help those going through difficult times. I was thinking maybe you could be our guest tonight before I head back to Atlanta.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you didn’t pray anymore.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t, but I recently started again.”

  “For me?” I asked.

  She nodded. “For you.”

  I didn’t pray, and I didn’t believe in God, but for some reason, that meant the world to me, more than she’d ever know. “Your family hates me.”

  “Only my mother, and don’t worry, she might hate me more than she hates you,” she joked.

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because no one can hate you, Grace. Trust me”—I rubbed the palm of her hands with my thumbs—“I’ve tried.”

  “I haven’t really seen or talked to my mom since the blowout we had, so it might be a little weird to see her, but I think if she sees you—the real you—she’ll understand where I’m coming from.”

  “Even if she doesn’t, that’s okay. You should make up with your mom regardless of any misunderstandings or drama,” I told her, glancing toward my father. “Because in the end, those disagreements don’t matter. What matters most is family, even if it’s a bit messed up.”

  She swallowed hard. “Are you encouraging me to make up with my mother?”

  “You’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t.”

  “You’re not wrong… So, will you come? It could be a nice break for a while. Just to get away for a bit.” She was good at that, good at making me take breaths whenever I forgot how to breathe. “Say yes?” she begged.

  So, I did.

  *

  I felt oddly nervous as I stood on the front porch of Grace’s parents’ house. If my dad knew I was standing in front of the Harrises’ home to receive prayers for his life, he would’ve come back to full health just so he could murder me.

  But Grace had a way of making me do things I wouldn’t normally do.

  “Are the flowers stupid?” I asked. I’d brought a dozen red roses for Loretta Harris—the sky was falling, and hell had frozen over.

  “They’re perfect,” she told me. “You’re fine.” She squeezed my hand, giving me a burst of comfort, but it didn’t last long once the front door opened and Loretta stood there.

  “What in the world is he doing here?” She gasped, staring my way.

  “I told you I was bringing the person in need today, Mama, remember?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice low and cold. “But you failed to mention it was him.” She spat out the last word as if I were diseased.

  I couldn’t blame her—I used to do the same with her family’s name.

  “Yes, but we welcome all into our home, right, Loretta?” her husband said, walking into the foyer. He looked my way and nodded once. I did nothing in reply. The longer I stood there, the more I began to regret my decision.

  I cleared my throat. “I brought flowers.”

  Loretta eyed them up and down. “Yes,” she muttered. “It seems you did.”

  “That’s nice,” Samuel remarked. “Thank you, Jackson.”

  Loretta turned toward her husband and grumbled as she moved past him. “This is a huge mistake,” she whined before walking away.

  Samuel looked at me and smiled. “We’re glad to have you here, Jackson. I’m very sorry to hear about your father.”

  I still didn’t reply, but when he held his hand out toward me, I shook it.

  As we walked into the house, my eyes fell to a painting on the foyer wall, and my gut tightened.

  I was almost certain that this home was the last place I was supposed to be.

  The dinner was odd for me. When everyone sat at the table and they all began to pray, I wasn’t certain what to do, so I studied the clock hanging on the wall. How long did it take one to pray? And if prayers were real, did you have to do it for a certain amount of time?

  I felt unease throughout the whole meal, but the saving grace of it all was Judy, and her husband, Hank. They seemed so much like Grace that it made it a bit easier to breathe. They seemed like genuinely good people.

  “Mama, aren’t you going to do the tour of the property with Jackson?” Grace asked. Then she turned to me. “She always shows the guests around the property. This place is her pride and joy.”

  She shot Grace a dirty look. “No. I’m going to do these dishes.”

  Judy laughed. “Since when do you do dishes, Mama?”

  Loretta scolded her daughter as she stood and started clearing items away. “Since always, Judith Rae. Now come help me, will you?”

  Judy rolled her eyes toward Grace and made a face, which made me smirk. At least I wasn’t the only one Loretta drove insane.

  “I’ll show him around,” Samuel said, standing up from his chair. “I was hoping to have a moment to talk to him a bit anyway.”

  Grace’s face went pale. “Talk to him about what?” she asked, her nervousness evident in her
expression.

  “Just things between the two of us, that’s all. How about you and Hank finish clearing off the table? Come on, Jackson, let’s take a stroll.”

  I knew I didn’t have a choice, not really, so I stood and followed him.

  As we walked around the acres of land, Samuel began to tell me all about it. He went into the stories of the orchards, the berry bushes, and the swimming pool used for baptisms, but I cut into the conversation once we started talking about tennis courts.

  “We don’t have to do this,” I told him.

  “Do what?”

  “The small talk.”

  He grimaced and stopped his steps, knowing exactly what I was getting at. He crossed his arms and looked my way. “We’ve never really spoken in all these years, have we?” he asked.

  “I never had anything to say to you,” I stated harshly, feeling my chest tighten. He didn’t flinch at my words, probably because he knew he deserved them.

  “Jackson…Loretta told me you know about your mother and me.”

  I tensed. “Yes.”

  “I can only imagine what finding that out could’ve done to you. I’m so sorry you had to find out like that. That you had to find out at all.”

  “The artwork in the foyer…does your wife know who painted it?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and shifted his glasses up. Then he shook his head. “No.”

  “Does anyone know?”

  “No.”

  I sighed and turned his way. “She told my father. She told him how much she loved you, how much you meant to her. She never told him it was actually you who she was in love with, but that there was another man. She said all the words that killed him inside, and you hang my mother’s artwork in your home. Right in front of your wife’s face. That doesn’t seem very God-like.”

  “If things had ended differently…” He paused, took a breath. “I wouldn’t have kept it a secret.”

  “Well, lucky for you, you can take it to the grave. Your legacy will be left unmarked.”

  “Jackson, it’s complicated.”

  “It’s not. It’s just sad because my mother…” My palms began to sweat as I blinked my eyes shut. “My mother deserved to be loved out loud, and you mourned her in silence.”