Grace (34 page)

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Authors: T. Greenwood

BOOK: Grace
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She followed the wailing sound to a beat-up Civic parked next to the handicapped spots. The window was rolled down, despite the freezing air, and she could make out a child screaming in the backseat. And there wasn't a grown-up in sight. She walked over to the car and quickly realized it was Grace, the other Grace, and anger bloomed hot inside Crystal's chest.
“Hey,” Crystal said softly, looking around for the mother. Hoping she was just putting her shopping cart back or something. “Hey, it's okay,” Crystal said and leaned into the car. The girl's dark hair was wet with sweat, her face furiously red.
Crystal reached in and touched her little hand. Her nails were painted hot pink with sparkles. The girl stopped crying for a minute and studied Crystal's face.
“Remember me? I helped you when you had a bloody nose,” she said stupidly, as if this would make the girl feel safe. “Is your mommy inside?”
The little girl nodded. Snot ran down her nose from both nostrils.
Crystal reached into her purse and pulled out a clean tissue. She started to hand it to the little girl and then realized she should probably just wipe her nose for her. She blotted the snot off her face and then crumpled up the tissue and put it in her pocket.
“Listen,” Crystal said softly. “I'm going to go inside and find your mommy, okay? I'll make sure she comes right out.”
This seemed to make the little girl calm down, though she was hiccupping in the way that little kids do after they've been crying for a long time.
“She'll be right back, okay? Cross my heart,” she said and made a crossing motion across her chest.
The little girl nodded, but as Crystal moved to go into the store, she could hear her starting to wail again. Maybe she should bring her in, she thought. But then again that didn't seem entirely smart either. She went back to the car and opened the girl's door. “Listen, I'll wait here with you until she comes, okay?”
When the woman finally came out about ten minutes later, clutching a bag of marshmallows, Crystal rushed to the electric doors. What the fuck? She left the kid alone to buy marshmallows? What kind of mother did that? Her hands and face were numb with the cold.
“Hey,” she said, grabbing the woman's arm. “Your daughter is totally freaking out. You can't just leave kids alone in cars,” she said.
The woman looked at her stupidly. God, she was unbelievable.
“Seriously,” she said, feeling venomous as the woman walked away from her, rushing toward the car. “And you know what? I know what you're doing. You can't just steal shit. Not anymore. I swear to God the next time I see you take something, I'm calling the cops. You're pathetic.”
The woman shook her head and then went to her car, where the little girl was still crying.
E
lsbeth had been glad to have a few days off. Twig was working the day before Thanksgiving, and Babette closed the salon for Thursday and Friday. For a week now, she'd had back-to-back clients trying to get their hair cut before the holidays. Her feet were killing her. Even her hands were tired.
The kids both had dentist appointments in the morning. It seemed like every mother in Two Rivers had scheduled their kids to get their teeth cleaned this week; they had to wait nearly an hour past their appointment times. She read three entire old issues of
Us Weekly
while she waited. Gracy had two cavities, luckily both in baby teeth, but she'd promised the dentist she'd pick up fluoride and make sure she used it every day. She felt scolded. She hated the dentist.
Normally she would have left Trevor in the car and taken Gracy in the store with her, but Gracy had fallen asleep, clutching the new purple toothbrush the dentist had given her. She peered into the rearview mirror. Trevor was leaning his head against the window. Somber. Sulking. He'd been okay during the first few weeks after he was suspended, but now that he was going to be going back to school in a matter of days, he was miserable. And she felt for him, she really did. Getting put in the special-ed class was a stupid idea, and probably about the cruelest punishment Mrs. Cross could have come up with. But at least he wouldn't be around those boys anymore, the ones who were so hell-bent on making his life miserable.
“Trev, stay here with your sister, okay? I'll be right back.”
She grabbed her purse and went inside, grateful for the warm blast of air that greeted her. She picked up a plastic basket and made her way down the first aisle. Her head was pounding as she walked past the makeup and the hair coloring. She wouldn't take anything today. She needed to stop. She felt the checker's eyes on her even across the store; she felt guilty, though she hadn't even done anything. She'd forgotten how to simply shop; she could barely breathe as she pretended to consider the hairbrushes and curling irons and combs. Her entire body was trembling.
She grabbed the fluoride the dentist recommended and then walked down the aisle of Thanksgiving stuff, letting her fingers skip across the silk flower arrangements, the aluminum roasting pans, the autumn-colored napkins. Normally, she would have pocketed one of the acorn napkin rings; she imagined it smooth and round in her pocket. Instead, she resisted and pretended to study the nutrition contents of a bag of marshmallows. She picked up the marshmallows and moved toward the counter, her entire body trilling in the same way as if she'd actually stolen something.
“You making sweet potatoes?” the kid asked.
She looked up at him.
“With the marshmallows, right? For Thanksgiving?”
She nodded. She was pretty sure that if she opened her mouth, the words wouldn't make it past the swelling in her throat.
“My mom does that too. It's my favorite. That and pumpkin pie.”
She stared at his name tag:
Howard
.
“That's all for you, then?”
She nodded. The heat from the vents was suddenly too strong. Too much. She felt queasy as she handed him the money.
“You okay, ma'am?” Howard asked.
“What's that?” she asked, distracted. “Yeah, I'm good.”
Outside, she was startled when the checker girl, Crystal, grabbed her arm. She started rambling on about not leaving her kids in the car. The girl had her hands on her hips, shaking her head at her like she was some sort of idiot. Why did this girl have it out for her? So she'd had a baby, lots of people have babies—that hardly made her an expert on parenting. And then she was yelling at her about her stealing stuff, about calling the cops.
“What are you talking about?” Elsbeth said, her whole body shaking now. She hadn't taken anything. She'd paid for the fluoride, the marshmallows.
“You left your kid alone in the car and she's freaking out,” she said, enunciating every word as if Elsbeth was retarded.
“She's not alone,” Elsbeth said, confused, shaking her head and rushing toward the car, where Gracy was red-faced and wailing,
alone,
in the backseat.
The girl disappeared into the Walgreens.
“Where's Trevor?” she asked, unbuckling Gracy and scooping her up into her arms. Gracy kept crying as Elsbeth walked around the snowy parking lot, looking for Trevor. She looked out at the road, but couldn't see him anywhere. He couldn't have gotten far. Jesus. Her shoulder soaked with Gracy's tears, she lowered Gracy back into her car seat and stroked her hair out of her eyes. “Honey, did Trevor say where he was going?”
“With those boys,” she said. “Those boys with the mean faces.”
“What boys, honey?”
“I was scared, Mommy!” Gracy cried again.
“Where did he go?”
Gracy pointed toward the side of the Walgreens.
“Over there?” Elsbeth asked.
Gracy nodded.
Elsbeth thought about leaving Gracy but knew that she'd just start screaming again. That girl
would
probably call the cops on her.
“Okay,” she said. She got into the driver's side and pulled the car slowly toward the end of the building, where that goddamned girl wouldn't be able to see her through the window from her perch at the check-out.
“Listen, I'm just going to look for Trevor, okay?” Then she remembered the marshmallows. She tore open the bag and handed it to Gracy. “Here you go, sweetie.”
Gracy nodded and took the marshmallows from her.
Elsbeth closed and locked the door and jogged down the walk alongside the store and then ducked behind the building. The Dumpsters were back there, and everything smelled of garbage. She gingerly stepped through an icy pile of slush and finally saw him. “Trevor?” He was sitting on the ground with his back against the wall, his face pressed into his knees.
“Jesus Christ, Trevor,” Elsbeth said, both relieved and furious. “Your sister is alone in the car! What were you
doing?

He didn't look at her as she reached down and grabbed his arm. He just stood up, shoved his hands in his pockets.
“What happened?” she asked. “Why did you get out of the car?”
She lifted his chin up with her finger, inspected his face. He looked okay. No bruises. It didn't look like he'd been fighting again. He refused to look her in the eye.
“What happened? Did somebody hurt you?”
Nothing. Silence.
“I don't know what to do with you,” Elsbeth said. “I can't do this anymore. I just can't do this.” Elsbeth was fuming. It was freezing outside, but she could feel her armpits growing damp. She'd been trying so hard lately to be sympathetic, to understand him. But she couldn't understand him if he wouldn't talk to her.
Silently, they walked back to the car. Trevor got in the backseat and Elsbeth slammed her door shut. Her hands shook as she found her keys.
“Did those mean boys hurt you, Trevor?' Gracy asked.
Trevor was looking down at his lap. His hands were fidgeting. They looked just like Kurt's hands. He had the same square nails. The same fine blond hairs. A tremor ran through her body as she thought about Kurt. About what he would do to Trevor if he knew he'd left Gracy in the car by herself. What he'd think of
her
. After the Fourth of July, he already thought she was a failure, a terrible mother. Maybe he was right.
She wished Trevor would say something, but he remained mute.
As Elsbeth turned out onto the slick road, Gracy reached between the seats. She handed him a handful of marshmallows in her tiny fist. “Here, Trevor. It's marshmallows.”
Trevor looked up and accepted one of them from her.
“Thanks,” he said softly.
She hated Gracy's innocence. Her kindness toward him. She hated that Gracy loved him more than she, his own mother, was able to.
Elsbeth turned to look at Trevor, wanting to say something that would make him tell her what happened, searching for the words that would get through, that might crack him open like an egg. But as she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out, and she realized that tears were streaming down his cheeks.
“Oh, Trev, why won't you tell me what's going on?”
G
racy had been humming in her sleep in the backseat. She did that at night sometimes too. Her voice sounded like little bells, like a lullaby. Trevor had leaned his head against the cold window and closed his eyes.
The banging startled him. Ethan's and Mike's faces filled his window. Ethan's cheeks were red, his nose crusty with snot. They motioned for him to roll the window down. He knew he probably shouldn't, but the doors were unlocked, and he was worried that they might try to get in through Gracy's side. That they might hurt her.
He rolled the window down, and Ethan reached in and grabbed a fistful of Trevor's hair. He yanked it, and Trevor's head bumped the window frame. “Get out of the car,” Mike said.
Trevor turned to look at Gracy, who had woken and looked terrified. “Gracy, I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere. Just wait for Mom.”
He got out of the car and they shoved him toward the back of the building. Trevor glanced back over his shoulder as he heard Gracy cry.
“Heard you're comin' back to school next week, that they're putting you with the retards,” Ethan said. Trevor could see the place where they'd sewn his earlobe back together, the scar like a thin, white worm. He shoved Trevor against the Dumpster. The air smelled rotten and thick. He worried about his mom coming out of the store and finding Gracy alone. He worried about what would happen next.
“Yeah,
Hannibal,
sure is lonely without you,” Mike said, thrusting his lip out.
Trevor could feel his anger, that hot steel making his entire body stiff. His hands clenched into fists. But just as he was about to knock both of the kids out, he thought about the promise he'd made to his father. He'd told him he wouldn't fight anymore. His dad said that if he fought one more time, he'd lose the camera. That was it. And if he didn't have the camera, he couldn't take pictures. And then what would be left? And so he just squeezed his fists until his nails dug into his palms.

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