Turning Grace (11 page)

He finally broke free, lipstick smeared on both their faces.

“That’s what you’ll be missing,” she said as she wiped the little bit of spit left on her face from the violent kiss.

She gave me a fake smile and sashayed down the hall. I was holding back the bile.

Tristen glanced at me, ashamed. “Sorry you had to see that.”

“Well, thankfully I don’t have a pencil handy or else I would have poked my own eyes out.”

He laughed. I loved his laugh. “Thank goodness for that!”

The bell rang. Great. Well, we’ll both have to be late for class.

“So, before you go in, I wanted to ask you about tomorrow. Do you still wanna go on that double date?”

He began to rub his neck. I hated when he rubbed his neck. He was thinking too hard about it.

“Well, Sonny is expecting me to be at her party.”

Son of a bitch.

“Okay, well…” I knew the disappointment was written all over my face. Quite frankly, I didn’t care. He told me he would go, and then decided he would pretend that he didn’t. Should I have been really upset about that? Somewhere deep down, I just knew this would happen. I didn’t finish my sentence. I turned to walk through the door into the classroom and stopped when I felt his hand on my arm.

“No. You know what? Screw it. What time are we going?”

The butterflies in my stomach began their waltz. “Uh…I’m not sure, but I’ll let you know.”

And with that, we headed into class.

Chapter 10

The Call

The rest of my day became much brighter. I informed Phoebe of the addition to our Halloween festivities. She, of course, was over the moon and couldn’t wait to notify Eric of our plans.

We discussed our final plans during lunch, which were to meet at my house for seven in the evening and start off with some haunted house hopping. From there, we would visit all of the old, spooky haunted sites New Orleans had to offer, beginning with a visit to Marie Laveau’s grave at the Saint Louis Cemetery No. 1 (a woman infamous for voodoo back in her day), Mona Lisa Drive (a very creepy, abandoned road lined with oak trees and Spanish moss), Hangman’s Tree (a tree standing all alone that resembles the face of a slave that was once hung there many years ago), and ending with an all night slasher movie fest. All the while, I would have Tristen next to me. Oh yeah, this Halloween was going to be the best of them all, and I fully intended on ending the night with a kiss better than what Sonny displayed.

Phoebe made sure to let Tristen in on our plans, for insurance purposes. Sonny was already going to be furious when she found out Tristen was doing something else for Halloween. All I needed was for her to catch me even looking at him. I wanted to avoid confrontation at all costs and ultimately just leave all of the dirty parts to Tristen. 

On my walk home, I rehashed the night Tristen and I took our walk to remember. Excluding Fluffy and the vomit scene, I focused on his touch and the way his eyes sparkled as he opened up his deepest thoughts to me. He was soulful. I liked that.

I stopped at the corner store to grab a soda before I reached the house. During my search for cash to pay the clerk, I found a tiny piece of paper in my back pocket. I finally paid the man and continued on with my short walk home, unfolding the yellow Post-it.

Megan 760-555
-7589

I had completely forgot about it. I grabbed my cell phone out of my Hobo bag and proceeded to dial Megan’s number. I wasn’t really sure why I was calling. I knew Mom had some secrets; at least about Dad. But honestly, I didn’t have the slightest clue what I was going to say to this person.

“Hi you’ve reached Megan. Sorry I couldn’t answer, but please leave a message and I’ll call you back. Thanks.”

I hung up. I already wasn’t sure of what I was going to say, I didn’t want to leave a mysterious message for the lady. I would just have to call back.

Following the smell of food cooking on our stove, I walked straight into the house and into the kitchen. Mom was setting out the plates. She looked up when I entered the room.“Hi Grace. How was school?”

“It was good.” I sat down at the dining table, still feeling some tension between us. I wasn’t sure when we were going to get past it, but honestly I just wanted to get through the weekend without any input from her.

She brought over the pot and started to pour the pot roast filled with an array of colors onto the plate in front of me. The steam was rising from the food, a beefy scent found its way into my nose. Of course without the use of utensils, I buried my fingers in. It burned, but I didn’t care. I continued to dig in.

The food entered my mouth and without barely a chew, it rolled down my throat. As soon as it hit my stomach, I could feel my blood coursing through my veins at a rapid pace. My eyes were closed, because for some reason I found that if I closed my eyes while I ate, I could taste the food even better. I visualized what it did to my insides. I imagined broken molecules throughout my body and once the food made its way down, the broken molecules just magically bound back together. It was mentally satisfying.

After finishing my pot roast, beef short ribs, Mediterranean salad, brown rice, and taco casserole, Mom cleared the plates off the table. With my body replenished, I helped and handed her the dirty dishes to wash.

“So Gracie, you will have leftovers along with some other food I prepared in the fridge for you this weekend.”

“This weekend? What’s this weekend?” I asked, suddenly feeling as though I missed something.

“I have to go to Arizona, dear. Don’t you remember?”

With everything that had happened, I completely forgot my mom was going out of town for work. This weekend just took a whole other turn for the better.

I couldn’t contain my smile.

“Oh gosh, what do you have planned?” she asked, concern beginning to show on her face.

“Nothing! Phoebe and I are going to do our usual for Halloween. You know, haunted house hopping and then some bloody movies.” I wouldn’t dare make it known to her that Tristen and Eric would be with us. I was almost certain she would cancel her weekend…or maybe even quit her job before she let that happen.

She stared at me for a moment, possibly trying to read my face for lies. “I really wish you girls would watch something else other than those horrible movies,” she finally said. “They are so grotesque.”

“No they’re not. They’re fun! Exciting, thrilling, and sometimes even funny.”

“Well, just make sure that you eat. Oh, and I already packed some snacks for you. Actually, let me go ahead and put them in your purse now before you forget.”

She grabbed what seemed like eight tons of sandwich baggies filled with her homemade goodies and stuffed them into my purse that was hanging on dining room chair. Everything from dried fruit, beef jerky, trail mix, pork rinds, candy, and some more beef jerky were stuffed in the bags. Oh, and let’s not forget a thermos filled with her amazing pomegranate juice.

“And here is some cash,” she added. “This should take care of all the haunted houses. Are you girls coming back here to watch those terrible movies?”

“Yup.”

“Okay, well be sure to text me throughout the weekend. And please, please be careful Grace. If anything…strange happens, just call me.”

“You mean, if I decide to dine on another helpless animal?”

“Grace, it’s not a joke,” she said sternly.

“Well, it’s kind of funny. Remember when I was all like ‘Mom, I just ate a cat!’ ”

“Grace Elizabeth! That is enough!” She was getting upset.

“Okay, I was just making light of the situation. Yes, I will call if anything is wrong. Okay?”

“That’s all I ask. Well, I have to get up early for my flight. I love you Gracie,” she said softly. She took me into a hug and of course, I hugged back. I supposed I couldn’t be mad at her forever. And besides, she was leaving for the weekend, which was amazing. It was like a gift to me from her. Tristen and I…alone. Well, Phoebe and Eric would be here, but I was sure they would probably not be anywhere in sight.

As we headed up the stairs together, I stopped her midway. “Mom, do you think I should go with Dr. Roberson?”

She gripped my hands into hers and sighed.

“Grace, I want you to do whatever you want to do. Of course I don’t want you to go. But I believe that it will only help you.” She grabbed a piece of my hair and flung it over my shoulder. “I fear that if you don’t go, things will only get worse.”

“But how? Mom, what is wrong with me?” I asked with sheer desperation in my tone. “Why do I wake up looking like death and eat like a horse and feed on things with a pulse? Am I some kind of freak? Do I have a disease? Is it going to kill me?”

“Honey, I believe that Dr. Roberson should be the one to answer all of your questions because this is what he specializes in.”

“But you’re a doctor too.” I didn’t understand why she just couldn’t explain it all to me.

“I
was
a doctor. Now I’m just an assistant.” I could tell the reality of that stung her heart a little.

This wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I wanted her to tell me what to do. As much as I would rather her not do that in other aspects of my life, I wanted her to be straight with me and tell me what to do about this whole situation. Instead, she was giving me leg room to make my own choices. So not the time.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Honey, do what you believe will be best not only for right now, but for your future. Dr. Roberson says this is only going to get worse without treatment. But you can change that.”

“Why aren’t you forcing me to go? It’s so…unlike you.”

She took a deep breath and put her hand on my back, gesturing for us to continue up the stairs. “Grace, you’re getting older now. I realize that I can’t tell you what to do anymore. And it’s a big decision to leave your friends, your school, me…I can’t push this on you. I can only support you. Obviously this is a very serious matter. As much as I want to tie you up and put you on that plane not now, but
right
now, I just can’t do that. If you decide not to go, I will figure out what we can do to make sure you are healthy. I have done so your whole life. Dr. Roberson already told me that he would send people here to help. Besides, this type of treatment requires you to
want
to go.”

Still not what I wanted to hear!

She kissed my forehead. “Goodnight honey. I will see you on Monday morning.”

And just like that, she closed her bedroom door. I stood on the landing of our stairs, wondering what just happened. How could she just leave it to me to make what was probably going to be the biggest decision of my life? From what I understood, if I didn’t go, I could probably die. If I did go, I would probably live. At least longer. But I couldn’t just leave. I couldn’t just leave my life, the life that I had known for so long. The only life that I knew. How could I live in another place where I wouldn’t know anyone else, where I would be completely vulnerable and completely alone? This was literally a life or death situation. So why wasn’t she forcing me to go?

Or why wasn’t I just saying yes already? And the worst part was that I had absolutely no idea what was threatening my life. Apparently, something was in my body that wasn’t supposed to be there. Or maybe there really wasn’t anything wrong with me. Dr. Roberson never actually said that I could die from this. He just said it would get worse.

That familiar, sharp, pain shot through my intestines, followed by a hungry growl. I hunched over and grabbed the banister, as this one was worse than usual.

Yeah, something was definitely wrong with me.

My legs instantly began to weigh down. The throbbing in my head quickly grew stronger and the rest of my body immediately ached.

On my trudge back to the kitchen, the sound of the waves crashing off the coast of Costa Rica rang through my ears.

~ ~ ~ ~

I could hear voices, but I saw no one. It was dark. Completely dark. I couldn’t see my hands. The smell of salt was in the air. The sound of waves were near. I searched, desperately trying to find some sign of light in the distance. Nothing. I didn’t move forward, afraid of what was ahead. I didn’t move backward, afraid of what was behind. My body ached. I felt feverish, frail. The touch of my own skin was rough and rigid. I felt old. Hungry. My stomach screamed for something. Anything.

Finally, in the distance, two tiny red dots appeared. They were close together. They were moving slowly, but closer towards me. I squinted to get a better look. My vision was no longer sharp. Only two red dots. Then, another set appeared to the left of them. Now there were four dots…traveling slowly, but closer. Again, to the right, two more dots. Six red dots. Little by little, but still growing closer. And again, two more dots. And again. And again. Eight, Fourteen, Twenty…I began to lose count. They were shuffling in a triangular formation. The pace was steady. Slow and steady. I braced myself, afraid of what was ahead. The smell of salt was gone and replaced by the smell of rot. It was raw...real. It was spoiling meat. It was old blood. It was sickly. It crept into my lungs, causing me to gag.

The dots grew closer and the smell stronger. I held my breath as long as I could, relieving the odor and preparing for what lay ahead. And then, the first two red dots stopped, suddenly revealing a head and a body. A man. A rotting, decaying man. His skin was slipping off his face. His lips were gone. Black ooze dripped from both his ears. His clothes were torn. His hair was thin and nearly gone. His finger nails were long, filthy. And his eyes…his eyes were…familiar.

I stood, quiet. I couldn’t feel my heart. I couldn’t feel anything but hunger.

He cocked his head slightly to one side. His red eyes pierced into mine. They were soft. They were hurt. They were so familiar.

A sense of comfort washed over me. Relief set in. I knew him. I’ve always known him. It was him. He was there…for me.

His jaw moved as if to speak but broke off, crashing into the ground…like glass smashing into a million pieces.

I reached out to him, grabbing what was left of his hand. His skin was rough and rigid.

“Dad?”

My eyes popped open from my deep sleep. Light barely seeped in from my blinds. I turned my head to look at the clock. 4:30 a.m. Ugh! I needed to go back to sleep.

I felt a warm wetness on my pillow and assumed I had been sweating from my dream. I reached over to flip my lamp on. The light bulb illuminated my arm, revealing bright red dots. I was bleeding. Drops and splotches of blood laid across my hand and my arm. Panicked, I looked down at my pillow, only to see more blood. At that moment, I realized my eyes were wet. A tear escaped, landing perfectly on the nail of my index finger. It was blood. The achiness of my body began to register in my brain, and I struggled to get out of bed as quickly as I wanted to. When I was finally able to reach the bathroom, I flipped the switch, dreading what I was about to see in the mirror.