Chapter 4
GRACE
I let myself into my mother’s house expecting quiet. Instead, I walk straight into a full-blown Elvis revival.
They are so invested in this performance that neither of them notices me standing there, groceries still clutched to my chest, wondering if I’ve accidentally crossed into a time warp.
Winnie switches from twerking to dramatic hip-swaying, belting out about a hunk of burning love in full abandon.
The room itself looks like it hasn’t changed since disco died.
I should know. I spent my formative years surrounded by this stuff.
The avocado-green carpet, wood-paneled walls, a crocheted afghan thrown over the arm of the worn blue velvet recliner, and a row of ceramic figurines guarding the mantle like tiny porcelain sentries.
“Graceland,” Mom finally says, breathless but pleased. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
I snort. “I can’t imagine why.”
Winnie spins to face me. “Grace. What a nice surprise! You caught us mid-rehearsal.”
“For what?”
“Our farewell tour.” She smirks. “I’ve got a date tonight.” She turns to my mother and whispers dramatically, “I even got some fancy new undies. Little red lacy pair.”
My stomach freefalls at the mental imagery. “Winnie…”
“Crotchless.”
“Oh my god.” I rub my face. I don’t know how I don’t have a permanent palm print embedded in my skin from this woman.
Winnie announces she needs to head home to get ready, winks dramatically at Mom, and sashays out the door, humming Elvis.
When the house settles back into quiet, Mom looks at me softly. “You okay, honey?”
“Yeah. Brad moved out.” I leave out the part about how he took nearly everything of value, whether it belonged to him or not. Right now, I’m more tired of losing relationships than I am of losing furniture.
Man, I can really pick ‘em.
There’s a pattern I can’t ignore anymore. I start giving up pieces of myself slowly to make more room for them. At first, it’s hobbies, then friendships, until eventually, it’s my dreams. And by the time they leave, I’ve given up everything while they’ve only taken.
I’ve replayed so many questions in the hours since Brad left.
Things that made at least a little sense at the time now feel problematic.
Caribbean trips with a sibling that didn’t completely add up.
Phones that were mysteriously unavailable if I asked why he couldn’t call.
And how many construction workers go on paid business trips? It didn’t make sense.
How much of what I believed was real? And how much was wishful thinking? Clearly, this breakup did me a favor. Helped me to pull my head out of the sand. I straighten my shoulders. “It’s fine. I don’t need someone like that holding me back.”
“You’re damn right,” Winnie’s voice calls from outside, thunderous like she’s leading a protest. She’s still here?
“I’m proud of you, honey. Know your worth, Grace,” my sweet mother adds.
I smile down at her until my mind drifts back to the day my father left. All of those times as a child I wondered why Mom hadn’t begged him to stay. She knew what I’m only now starting to understand.
We accept the love we think we deserve.
That quote had resonated with me for so long, and I wasn’t entirely sure why. I thought I was deserving of love. It wasn’t my fault my father walked away. There were years I blamed my mother. If only she’d given him what he wanted. Maybe then he would’ve stayed.
But she’d given enough. She’d supported our little family all on her own while he bounced from one low-paying job to another, often with big gaps of time in between.
Job. Shit!
I glance at the clock. Holy moly. What was supposed to be a quick visit to check on Mom has turned into a much longer affair. I need to get to work. “I’ve gotta run, Mom. I’ll call you tonight.”
She smiles softly. “Be careful, Graceland.”
I rush for the door, feeling a little taller than when I walked in.
“No, no, noooo. Not today.” Dropping my forehead to the steering wheel hard enough to leave a mark, I pray to the God who reigns supreme over all oddballs and Elvis lovers for the miracle I need to get this jalopy started. “Please, you old battle-axe. Please, start,” I plead.
There’s no way I can be late. I’m almost certain that Attila the Hun, Tiffani, is working this morning.
While merely a shift manager at my part-time job, she acts as if she’s been appointed store dictator.
I sit up taller, a little ounce of positivity filling my veins.
Maybe I’m wrong, and sweet Avery will be there today. I can only hope.
Vrmmmmm.
Springing up higher in my seat, my eyes fly open at the unexpected shock of hearing the ignition turnover. “Holy shit!” I squeal. “Sorry. I mean, Holy Mary, Mother of God, thank you! Thank you.” I really need to get back to church. See what a little positive thinking can do, Grace?
I slam my foot on the pedal and gun it, hoping I can still make it on time. It’s possible, right? The irritatingly red dashboard clock practically guffaws in my direction.
8:55.
Unless this old hunk of junk can suddenly teleport the ten minutes to my job, it’s not happening.
“Come on, Avery,” I mutter to myself as if she can hear me.
“I just know you offered to pick up the morning shift for Tiff.” I chew on the tip of my nail in contemplation.
Maybe she came down with a scorching case of Montezuma’s revenge.
Of course, you’d have to actually take a vacation to get Traveler’s diarrhea.
Why should she do that when her favorite pastime is torturing her coworkers?
Tiffani is the type of person Mean Girls was written about.
A superficial shrew with a heart made of stone.
To the untrained eye, she’s pretty. A cacophony of clothing, jewelry, makeup, and surgical enhancements afforded by Daddy’s money.
But underneath lives a trifling tormentor.
It isn’t enough for her to have been born into privilege.
I honestly think she’d take great glee in seeing my already sad lot in life get worse.
As I reach my parking spot, I throw the gear into park, grab my keys and nearly empty purse, and hightail it toward the door. Avery, Avery, Avery, I internally chant. Keep thinking positive, Grace. It got the truck going, right?
“You’re late.”
Well, shit on a shingle. I’ve barely stepped into the upmarket boutique, sweat trickling down the back of my neck from the lack of air conditioning in that pitiful excuse for a vehicle, when my gaze connects with Lauren’s.
The store owner.
Dadgummit. Is it too late to wish Tiffani was here? “I’m so sorry, Lauren. My car wouldn’t start. I—”
“That was the excuse she gave last time.” My body jolts at the unexpected but entirely too familiar sound of Tiffani’s voice behind me.
Honestly, universe? One of these two wasn’t enough?
You had to have both of them here to greet me?
“Real original, Grace.” Normally I wouldn’t hide my eye roll at her jibes, but I don’t need to borrow any more trouble than I already have today.
I try inconspicuously to wipe the back of my neck, discovering my overheated truck is no match for the stress I’m currently wilting beneath.
As horrendous as it is, I cannot afford to lose this God-awful job today.
Tossing my meager belongings under the counter, I mutter, “I need a new car. But I just don’t have enough saved for a down payment yet.
” Not sure why I’m bothering to share my woes, as I doubt either of these women have ever struggled financially a day in their lives.
“Yes. I guess there’s not much left after spending all your paycheck on your designer clothes.” Tiffani cackles.
My gaze drifts down my form to my plain white short-sleeve blouse currently plastered to my skin in a sweaty mess.
Thankfully, my khaki capri pants are in better shape.
I was excited to find them in my size on my last visit to the Goodwill store.
After several washes, it unfortunately still carries that familiar thrift shop scent, despite the spritz of body mist I’d applied. I’m sure the August heat hasn’t helped.
I’d tied a sunflower scarf my friend Tuesday had given me through the belt loops for some color and whimsy.
This outfit is fairly sedate compared to many I wear.
More befitting a high-end boutique of this scale.
But beggars can’t be choosers when you’re selecting other people’s discarded clothing.
And I can’t keep wearing the one little black shift dress I own that I interviewed in.
However, given my current financial state, and Mom’s medical costs, there’s no getting around this.
I mean, my spending is tighter than bark on a tree right now.
“It’s not so bad, Tiffani,” Lauren says. I turn to thank her until she continues. “Not like most of the things she parades around in. Honestly, Grace. You’re a beautiful girl. Why you choose to dress that way. And in public, no less.”
My body’s temperature had started to cool down thanks to the store’s crisp air conditioning until this conversation.
Yet my blood has started to boil, and now I’m heated again.
Not simply from embarrassment, but the sheer rage that these two pretentious asshats have the nerve to talk to me this way.
They’ve never had to walk a day in my shoes.
They’re far too entitled to stoop so low as to shop in a secondhand store to make sure they have enough money to get by from one week to the next.
If my slimeball ex hadn’t packed up my things and his and driven away in my Camry, I’d have more time to save.
Sure, the little blue sedan had over 200,000 miles on it, but it was a far cry from the broken-down Dodge truck he left me with.
But look at the bright side. My arms have never looked better after driving a vehicle with no power steering.
“Just don’t let it happen again,” Lauren tosses over her shoulder as she walks toward the back office. “The tardiness or any more of those ridiculous outfits.”
There’s no missing the smirk curling the corner of Tiffani’s mouth.
Breathe, Grace. Just breathe. One day things are going to go your way, and you’ll be able to kiss this job and these snooty bullies goodbye. Until then, just bite your tongue and plaster a smile on your face. Even a crappy job is better than no job at this point.
Lauren returns with her arms loaded down with garments.
I dash over to meet her, arms extended to offer assistance, when her face contorts as if she’s just swallowed a lemon.
“Oh, honey, why don’t you wipe down the glass at the register and in the front of the store?
I’d prefer not to have you touching these until you aren’t such a hot mess.
Literally.” The sound of Tiffani laughing behind me has steam building in my ears.
At this rate, I won’t cool down until Christmas.
“Sure, Lauren.” Reaching for the glass cleaner and some paper towels, I get to work, reminding myself to pick my battles.
My mind drifts as I wipe concentric circles over the glass case, visualizing the moment I can place my letter of resignation on this counter instead.
But I’m dodging bill collectors like a squirrel dodging cars. So, today is simply not that day.
“Oh, and Grace…”
I glance up at Tiffani, worried I’d zoned out and missed part of the conversation. “Yes?”
“Jessica has to go out of town this weekend. Her father is taking her apartment shopping. So, I’ll need you to come in Saturday.”
What? Oh, for Pete’s sake. Isn’t Jessica a college freshman? Can’t she live in a dorm like all the other girls fortunate enough to attend college on their parents’ dime?
Then it hits me. Dagnabbit, I’m supposed to be pet sitting this weekend.
I’d been so excited that the timing of this job had worked out so well.
The pay wasn’t anything to write home about, but the owners had offered to let me use their pool while I was there.
And what a pool it was. Surrounded by lush, tropical foliage and swanky patio furniture, I’d imagined whiling the day away with a cocktail like some rich heiress. But, as usual, my life had other plans.
There was no time for relaxation tomorrow, given Mom had rehab in the morning and a visit with her pulmonologist in the afternoon.
Her COPD made her so tired after these long days, it was all I could do to get her home and in the bed.
I knew she wouldn’t eat if I didn’t force her.
And my mother had already lost so much weight, I couldn’t allow her to skip another meal.
It was going to be a juggle feeding and letting that scary dog out to do his business before and after Mom’s appointments.
And Winnie had plans she couldn’t cancel tomorrow.
So it’s all on me. It simply wasn’t feasible to squeeze in an extra hour or two to lounge in their tropical oasis.
Now I’m going to have to get there at the ass crack of dawn Saturday to let Kodiak out before coming here.
But who needs to enjoy an afternoon by the pool when you’re offered the opportunity to earn another day’s pay at the most infuriating job on the planet?
“Okay.” Biting down on the inside of my cheek, I try to stifle my tears at the realization my short-lived excitement was gone. The only thing worse than losing my day poolside would be allowing Tiffani to take pride in knowing she’d ruined my weekend.
Keep your eye on the prize, Grace. It’s getting you one step closer to affording a reliable car. There’ll be time for the lux life once you graduate nursing school and no longer have infuriating bullies or a deadbeat boyfriend holding you back.