he’d been right about her mother dying? His bedside manner still sucked.
~~~
Wednesday afternoon Grace returned to her silent house after an extended lunch with Janie. Tossing keys and purse on the counter she made an honest effort to steer clear of the bed. She roamed the family room, stopped next to her mother’s upright piano and lowered herself onto the bench. The keys felt smooth under her fingers. Becoming an accomplished pianist had been one of her mother’s passions; unfulfilled, but a passion.
Grace screwed up her mouth. “What’s my passion?” Nothing came to mind. Moving away from the piano, she plopped onto the couch and stared upward.
“Just a short rest,” she justified to the empty room. The dark wood blades of the ceiling fan rotated slowly, methodically, around…and around…and around, mirroring the monotony of her life. “God, how boring.” She closed her eyes.
What was her passion? And when had her life become so boring?
The answer immediately popped in her head. It had always been boring. She couldn’t remember a single time she’d actually worked for something she wanted. Even Adam had fallen nicely into her lap.
~~~
She'd had a blind date sophomore year with Adam Brookfield, who was a good-looking hunk with high standards, a sense of humor, no police record and no tattoos. Two years older and a senior, he was one of the few guys she knew who even had a degree plan. Christmas, he proposed. In May Adam graduated with a degree in Business Finance and landed a job with a well-known investment firm before the ink on his diploma dried. They married in June.
That was her Adam; dependable, solid, decisive, always had a plan.
He was the complete opposite of Grace. Her pursuit of an Elementary Education degree centered around two people; the first, naturally being her mother. As long as she could remember, Kathryn had told her she should be a teacher. Why? Grace had never bothered to ask…not unusual. The second, she blamed her guidance counselor for insisting she pick a major. How rude. She could care less about getting a degree or being a teacher. But, then again, it did get her mother off her back.
“You are a teacher,” Kathryn said after Grace completed her student teaching. “Be a teacher.”
“I don’t want to.” Grace argued, feeling five. “And besides, Adam doesn’t care if I work or not.” She folded her arms in a na-na-na-na-boo-boo stance.
~~~
She lay on the couch and reviewed her adulthood, which played like a bad B-rated movie: shallow plot, no substance. Besides having kids, which of course gave her great pleasure, Grace had done absolutely nothing with her life. Ambitions? Nada. Dreams? Zilch. And passions? Once again, a blank slate—a complete and total ankle-deep existence. Pa- thetic .
What she needed was a plan. Without her mother around directing traffic in her life she realized the full extent of her emptiness; not pretty.
“I could start talking to myself. Mom always hated that,” she remembered. “At least I’d have the last word.” Once the phrase left her mouth, she realized that might not necessarily be true.
As a little girl Grace had an imaginary friend and, as she grew, her alter ego developed into an excessively outspoken wild-child personality. Almost every time Grace got in trouble, Grace #2—shortened to #2—had talked her into doing something she alone found too terrifying. The little she-devil who sat on her shoulder always got in the last word.
“Maybe #2 should show up.” Then she’d have some help with the real Grace Brookfield. The real Grace Brookfield reminded her of the old 50’s Game Show Network program, I’ve Got a Secret . She pictured three Grace look-alikes on one side, all claiming to be the real Grace Brookfield. A panel of well-known celeb judges sat opposite.
“ Contestant #1, you say you are an adult,” begins panelist, Kitty Carlisle. “How do you approach decision-making? ”
Grace waited
~~~
Wednesday afternoon Grace returned to her silent house after an extended lunch with Janie. Tossing keys and purse on the counter she made an honest effort to steer clear of the bed. She roamed the family room, stopped next to her mother’s upright piano and lowered herself onto the bench. The keys felt smooth under her fingers. Becoming an accomplished pianist had been one of her mother’s passions; unfulfilled, but a passion.
Grace screwed up her mouth. “What’s my passion?” Nothing came to mind. Moving away from the piano, she plopped onto the couch and stared upward.
“Just a short rest,” she justified to the empty room. The dark wood blades of the ceiling fan rotated slowly, methodically, around…and around…and around, mirroring the monotony of her life. “God, how boring.” She closed her eyes.
What was her passion? And when had her life become so boring?
The answer immediately popped in her head. It had always been boring. She couldn’t remember a single time she’d actually worked for something she wanted. Even Adam had fallen nicely into her lap.
~~~
She'd had a blind date sophomore year with Adam Brookfield, who was a good-looking hunk with high standards, a sense of humor, no police record and no tattoos. Two years older and a senior, he was one of the few guys she knew who even had a degree plan. Christmas, he proposed. In May Adam graduated with a degree in Business Finance and landed a job with a well-known investment firm before the ink on his diploma dried. They married in June.
That was her Adam; dependable, solid, decisive, always had a plan.
He was the complete opposite of Grace. Her pursuit of an Elementary Education degree centered around two people; the first, naturally being her mother. As long as she could remember, Kathryn had told her she should be a teacher. Why? Grace had never bothered to ask…not unusual. The second, she blamed her guidance counselor for insisting she pick a major. How rude. She could care less about getting a degree or being a teacher. But, then again, it did get her mother off her back.
“You are a teacher,” Kathryn said after Grace completed her student teaching. “Be a teacher.”
“I don’t want to.” Grace argued, feeling five. “And besides, Adam doesn’t care if I work or not.” She folded her arms in a na-na-na-na-boo-boo stance.
~~~
She lay on the couch and reviewed her adulthood, which played like a bad B-rated movie: shallow plot, no substance. Besides having kids, which of course gave her great pleasure, Grace had done absolutely nothing with her life. Ambitions? Nada. Dreams? Zilch. And passions? Once again, a blank slate—a complete and total ankle-deep existence. Pa- thetic .
What she needed was a plan. Without her mother around directing traffic in her life she realized the full extent of her emptiness; not pretty.
“I could start talking to myself. Mom always hated that,” she remembered. “At least I’d have the last word.” Once the phrase left her mouth, she realized that might not necessarily be true.
As a little girl Grace had an imaginary friend and, as she grew, her alter ego developed into an excessively outspoken wild-child personality. Almost every time Grace got in trouble, Grace #2—shortened to #2—had talked her into doing something she alone found too terrifying. The little she-devil who sat on her shoulder always got in the last word.
“Maybe #2 should show up.” Then she’d have some help with the real Grace Brookfield. The real Grace Brookfield reminded her of the old 50’s Game Show Network program, I’ve Got a Secret . She pictured three Grace look-alikes on one side, all claiming to be the real Grace Brookfield. A panel of well-known celeb judges sat opposite.
“ Contestant #1, you say you are an adult,” begins panelist, Kitty Carlisle. “How do you approach decision-making? ”
Grace waited
Similar Books
