29. Caleb
Caleb
“Did your mom ever braid your hair, Grace?” I heard Noelle ask as I passed the hallway outside her room.
Peeking inside, I was overwhelmed with emotion at the sight of Grace on the floor behind Noelle, sitting crisscrossed as she braided her hair into what looked like a French braid.
I never could master those. I still attempted it though after a few YouTube tutorials. Noelle always said they were lopsided.
“No, she didn’t,” Grace answered softly, her lips forming a straight line.
This must have been a triggering topic for her.
I hated to be eavesdropping, but now I wanted to know if I needed to rescue Grace from an uncomfortable conversation with my daughter.
We were just coming down from the high of our first Thanksgiving dinner as a couple earlier in the day. My mother and Grace baked pies with Noelle while I cooked the main course. A few friends from the bar stopped in, including Jena and Max.
Everybody had a nice time, and I was grateful when Noelle was cool with Grace spending the night. This would be the first time Grace would be staying over while Noelle was here.
Earlier in the week, the three of us had dinner, and I broke the news to Noelle about how Grace and I were official. I had been apparently worried for no reason. Her reaction was an eye roll and a sassy, “I already knew that, Dad. So five minutes ago.”
Excuse me.
Joke aside, me being in a relationship was a big adjustment and I wanted to make sure my daughter was okay with all these new changes.
Clearly mothers were on her mind, judging by this conversation.
“My sister taught me how to braid my hair,” Grace said after a few moments of silence.
I was surprised Grace was offering information about Julia so freely to Noelle.
After the other night when Grace blurted out that I was in love with a killer, I admit I had to take a step back.
Hearing something as disturbing as that was jarring, but I knew my mother wouldn’t have let things escalate to this level with Grace had she been a threat to myself, or more importantly Noelle, so I composed myself and heard her out.
I didn’t know how I didn’t see it before.
Grace was plagued with guilt. I knew she had secrets and that they must have been dark.
Judging by her reaction and words after the fact, I was the first person to actually try to understand her and her pain.
I couldn’t believe how much she blamed herself for things out of her control and for mistakes most young people today make.
Her parents were the ones who disturbed me the most. As a parent, it gutted me to see Grace face such rejection emotionally from her own parents.
Selfishly, it also made me concerned for Noelle and her having Roxy as her “mother figure” or lack thereof.
I knew she was becoming more and more interested in the female perspective.
My mom could only do so much to ease Noelle with some of the struggles she was going through.
Noelle would always have me. I just hoped love was enough.
Funny, or not so funny depending on how you look at it, I felt the same way about my relationship with Grace.
“So you don’t have a real mom either?” Noelle questioned, and my heart sank.
I gasped and found myself leaning on the wall for support, hoping I didn’t make too much noise to reveal myself yet.
“I have a mom. She just didn’t braid hair or anything like that though. I—we had nannies, my sister Julia and I…” Grace trailed off. Even though I couldn’t see her face, I could imagine how upsetting this was for her.
But for some reason, I felt the urge not to interrupt this moment between the two of them.
“But you have your sister,” Noelle said pointedly. She didn’t know Grace’s story, so it was an innocent assumption.
I heard Grace inhale sharply. “Actually, she died a little while back,” she murmured softly, her voice cracking. “But she was like a mom to me sometimes. My mom was gone a lot. I was left alone. Julia was older, cooler, and she would take me to places like Coney Island or the zoo.”
“Oh, I’ve been there with Grandma!” Noelle chimed in.
Then Grace continued, “My favorite place was and still is The Plaza Hotel. My sister used to take me there when things were bad between our parents. We ran away and pretended we were like Eloise and had tea parties and it was magical. I miss her, you know. Anyway, have you ever been?”
I decided to peek in and saw my daughter shake her head no, and Grace bit her lip, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.
“I’m sorry about your sister,” Noelle said simply. “I don’t really have a mom.”
“But what about Roxy?” Grace asked, her hands still maneuvering Noelle’s thick locks.
“She’s my mother,” Noelle emphasized. “It’s different from a mom.
A mom is the person you go to when you’re sad or things don’t feel right.
A mom braids your hair and watches a movie with you while eating ice cream.
Roxy’s not a mom. My dad has tried to take both places.
It’s hard for him though. And Grandma is old,” she deadpanned in true Noelle fashion.
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me as I imagined relaying this story to my mother.
I quickly covered my mouth and listened.
“Do you think you had good parents?” Noelle questioned.
I was going to have to talk to her about being so nosy.
Grace paused, seeming to choose her words carefully.
From what I gathered about Grace’s upbringing, she had cold and distant parents, so I’d be lying if I wasn’t curious as to how she was going to manage spinning this to my kid.
“They tried, and I think that’s all you can do as a parent.
Unfortunately, not everyone is as spectacular as your dad, pipsqueak.
” Grace laughed and glanced over at the door, spotting me.
Seemed like there was no point in trying to hide. Her eyes narrowed like she wanted to say something but instead focused on finishing Noelle’s hair.
“Yeah, I guess he is pretty good.” Noelle shrugged. “Except when he’s moody and complaining about the braids. Oh, and sometimes he’s strict!”
Grace looked at me, gave me a side smile, and said, “But don’t you see, when he’s being strict, he’s showing you he cares. He loves you.”
Grace passed Noelle the hand mirror to look at her handiwork. The braid looked just as good as the tutorials I watched. I was thankful Grace was here for Noelle. In whatever way she wanted to be.
“Thanks, Grace,” Noelle said, hugging her. “You’re pretty cool.”
“Ditto.” Grace nodded and smiled.
Noelle pulled back quickly and pointed a finger at Grace. “Don’t say ditto. You don’t want to be old like Daddy and Grandma.”
“Noted,” Grace quipped, nodding, and then stood before making her way over to me.
I snorted and Noelle rolled her eyes, totally unfazed at me lingering in the doorway. I told Noelle it was time to get ready for bed since we had an early morning ahead of us.
Grace and I turned to make our way down the hall to my room when she turned back and called, “Hey, Noelle?”
“Yeah?” Noelle popped her head out of her room, and I quickly removed my hand from Grace’s ass.
“I can teach you how to braid your hair, if you want,” Grace offered shyly.
My heart swelled hearing Grace extend herself to Noelle.
“Are you and Dad going to get married?” My nosy daughter couldn’t help herself. “You’d look pretty in a white dress. You already look like a princess.”
Grace grimaced. “I don’t know what will happen between your dad and me, but for what it’s worth, no matter what, I promise you and I will always be friends. I’ll always be here for you, okay?”
Noelle smiled softly and nodded before ducking back into her room.
“Thank you,” I whispered into her hair. I wasn’t just thanking her for braiding Noelle’s hair but for having such a tender moment with my kid. “Are you okay?” I asked, worried about her.
I was always worried about Noelle too, but I think that comes with the territory of being a parent.
I never understood how my ex was able to walk away with minimal communication. When I first brought Noelle home from the hospital, I used to watch her sleep at night, worried if she was breathing. Now I worried in different ways, new ways, constantly.
Was I too hard on her? Was she going to have trauma from not having a real mother? Was she lonely?
The list went on and I didn’t see it stopping anytime soon.
I was broken out of my thoughts when I glanced down at Grace, who was wiping tears off the tops of her cheeks.
She lifted her head to look at me. For a moment, Grace was silent, and I worried she was overwhelmed from taking on my daughter and me, but then she whispered, “Yeah, I think I am,” and gave me a small smile.
I kissed her hair and followed her to the bedroom. All I could do was hope things stayed okay.