Amazing Grace
Chapter One
Grace was never good with goodbyes. Though she had practiced it
religiously for quite some time now, it still didn't come easily to her. Even
the thoughts she had entertained about this time being different seemed so distant
now. Of course, these were the same thoughts she entertained every time; every
time she met a man and felt that chemical bliss she just knew it would be
happily ever after...'this time'. Perhaps it was naïveté on her part, perhaps simply unwillingness
to finally put hope to rest. How could one give up hope so young, after all?
Grace would be 30 in 17 days. As she power-walked the house gathering all of the
possessions that meant anything to her, Grace's four year old Doberman
Pinscher, Casey, kept her mistress in her line of sight. Something was
definitely brewing, and it had a familiar stench to the dog who had been glued
to Grace since the day she turned six weeks old. There were already three
suitcases and several small boxes adorning the foyer, lined up close to the
front door; at least as near to lined up as the petite blonde could manage.
Organization was not a character trait she possessed. In fact, nothing in
Grace's life had ever been "just so". Haphazard and chaotic was a
much more accurate description for the manner in which events generally
unfolded. After finishing her packing, she pulled open the front door and began
to haul each over-stuffed suitcase and overflowing cardboard box out of the
house and into her beat up old Lincoln Continental. Nicknamed "The Dream
Machine" by her best friend, Jesse, the roomy old car was Grace's prized
possession. It had taken her places she never dreamed she would go, as well as
some she had. Casey was at her heels for the entire task of loading the car,
following her in and out of the house, not wanting to let her semi-manic mama
out of her sight for fear she might be left behind, forgotten in all the
madness. But that never happened. And it never would.
With her belongings and Casey safely contained in her car, Grace walked
back inside the house to take care of one last thing before driving off into
her future; the act that brought with it the most regret. She gave the house a
good once-over to make sure she wasn't leaving anything behind, then took a
seat on one of the swivel bar stools in the kitchen, pen in hand:
Dear Michael,
I won't insult your intelligence by trying to sell you on the ' it's not you it's me ' spiel. You haven't changed. You're still the same gentle soul I met 3 years ago. I haven't changed either, but I suppose that is part of the problem. I'm still the same girl who has never been quite sure enough to close her eyes and jump. You are a kind and gentle man who deserves so much more than I have to give right now. I'm so sorry, I truly am, but I can't marry you. Every part of me wanted so desperately to be who you wanted. I still do. I just can't. I have to learn how to be me - who that is even. I know you will have your one true love...
Always, Grace
She folded the note in half and laid it on the kitchen counter, staring at it, frozen, for what felt like the longest time. With a sad sigh, she slipped off the most beautiful ring that would ever encircle her slender finger and placed it gently on top of the note. There was nothing left to do, in her opinion, but breathe it all in once more, then turn and run. Running was what she knew. It was what she had done countless times, for countless reasons, in countless situations. Running was what she had spent her childhood doing, only then she was following instead of leading the way. She was always following; her mother was always running and she was always following. This time, however, Grace had the reins. So she walked out the front door and climbed into her car. Without looking back, she put the car in drive and her foot on the gas pedal. She paused briefly when she reached the end of the driveway and took a deep breath, but being determined not to look back she exhaled and hung a left onto the tree-lined street. She knew exactly where she was headed and it was a trip she could have managed In her sleep. So many times and from so many places had she traveled to this destination. Every time something didn't go right for Grace, every time her next dream job didn't pan out, and every time she got too close to a man and panicked - she loaded up her car and pointed it toward the southeast. And " The Dream Machine" never let her down. It was a perfect day for a road trip anyway, she reasoned as she felt Casey's cold, wet nose under her hand, pushing upward gently. This was her way of letting people know she wanted them to pet her.
"I know girl.", Grace said in a soothing voice, as she scratched behind the loyal dog's ears. Most Doberman owners cropped their dogs' ears when they were puppies, to make them stand at attention, but in her opinion this was a cruel and painful practice in which she refused to participate. So Casey almost looked more like a Labrador Retriever with her velvety soft, droopy ears. It served to make strangers feel less intimidated by her. She looked sweet and harmless, not big and dangerous; and that's what she was - sweet and loving. She was not harmless, however, but having that appearance would prove to be advantageous at some point. Surviving a dangerous situation, Grace knew, was due in part to appearing weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.
I won't insult your intelligence by trying to sell you on the ' it's not you it's me ' spiel. You haven't changed. You're still the same gentle soul I met 3 years ago. I haven't changed either, but I suppose that is part of the problem. I'm still the same girl who has never been quite sure enough to close her eyes and jump. You are a kind and gentle man who deserves so much more than I have to give right now. I'm so sorry, I truly am, but I can't marry you. Every part of me wanted so desperately to be who you wanted. I still do. I just can't. I have to learn how to be me - who that is even. I know you will have your one true love...
Always, Grace
She folded the note in half and laid it on the kitchen counter, staring at it, frozen, for what felt like the longest time. With a sad sigh, she slipped off the most beautiful ring that would ever encircle her slender finger and placed it gently on top of the note. There was nothing left to do, in her opinion, but breathe it all in once more, then turn and run. Running was what she knew. It was what she had done countless times, for countless reasons, in countless situations. Running was what she had spent her childhood doing, only then she was following instead of leading the way. She was always following; her mother was always running and she was always following. This time, however, Grace had the reins. So she walked out the front door and climbed into her car. Without looking back, she put the car in drive and her foot on the gas pedal. She paused briefly when she reached the end of the driveway and took a deep breath, but being determined not to look back she exhaled and hung a left onto the tree-lined street. She knew exactly where she was headed and it was a trip she could have managed In her sleep. So many times and from so many places had she traveled to this destination. Every time something didn't go right for Grace, every time her next dream job didn't pan out, and every time she got too close to a man and panicked - she loaded up her car and pointed it toward the southeast. And " The Dream Machine" never let her down. It was a perfect day for a road trip anyway, she reasoned as she felt Casey's cold, wet nose under her hand, pushing upward gently. This was her way of letting people know she wanted them to pet her.
"I know girl.", Grace said in a soothing voice, as she scratched behind the loyal dog's ears. Most Doberman owners cropped their dogs' ears when they were puppies, to make them stand at attention, but in her opinion this was a cruel and painful practice in which she refused to participate. So Casey almost looked more like a Labrador Retriever with her velvety soft, droopy ears. It served to make strangers feel less intimidated by her. She looked sweet and harmless, not big and dangerous; and that's what she was - sweet and loving. She was not harmless, however, but having that appearance would prove to be advantageous at some point. Surviving a dangerous situation, Grace knew, was due in part to appearing weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.
No comments:
Post a Comment