Chapter 12
Grace
“So, that’s pretty much the house,” Danny says as we wrap up the tour of the guest room I’ll be staying in tonight.
It all looks professionally staged, like no one really lives here.
Danny’s personality, all of his wildness, is nowhere to be found.
I visualize the energetic boy who spent a whole Sunday redecorating his childhood bedroom, which he was so proud to “reveal” to me.
You’re never going to believe the difference, Gracie.
The difference was wall-to-wall, duct-taped superhero posters. I told him so, and he chased me around the room, tackling me to the bed and tickling my ribs until I cried from laughing so hard. Yet another joyful memory tinged with a sadness that doesn’t belong.
God. It’s so bizarre to feel like I lost someone who’s standing right in front of me. I can reach out to touch him, but I’m not sure if his skin would feel the same. And I find myself yearning for when I knew the texture of him.
“I’m rarely here during football season, honestly. I’m almost always at the facility,” he adds.
“Well, it’s beautiful. Thanks for showing me around.” I stand in the doorway of the guest bedroom, waiting for some direction from him as to where we go from here.
He stares at me with amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re biting the inside of your cheek, Gracie. You haven’t managed to suppress your tell after all these years?”
I give him a small glare, but there’s no bite behind it. “I really do think it’s beautiful. There’s just no ‘you’ in this house.”
His gaze softens. “Hm. And what would ‘me’ look like?”
I could probably come up with a list the length of a pharmacy receipt of qualities that make Danny Danny, but I refuse to get sucked into that right now. I’m only here for one night, and it’s all because of the letter. A letter I haven’t even read.
I desperately search for a subject change before realizing something. “Wait a second, you never showed me your room.”
Danny sheepishly runs his hands through his black, wavy hair—his tell for when he’s embarrassed.
“Oh. You don’t want to show me your room.” I blush. Why did I even bring up his room? Of course he doesn’t want me in his room. I cringe to myself.
He shakes his head. “It’s not that, it’s just—”
“It’s a sex dungeon, isn’t it?”
Danny starts coughing like he swallowed a bug. “Excuse me?”
“Wait, is it actually a sex dungeon? I won’t judge you. Your secret is safe with me, Danny. It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” I reassure innocently.
“It’s not—”
“Then why are you coughing and blushing all suspiciously?” I enjoy making him squirm for once. “Hold up. Is that what you use that long kitchen table for? Some fetish thing?” I start giggling uncontrollably.
“Mercy, Grace. I beg you,” he chokes out, still coughing.
I laugh so hard a tear escapes from my eye. I’ve missed this.
He fusses with his hair nervously. “I’m coughing because I never thought I’d hear you speak the words ‘sex dungeon’ in my guest bedroom.”
“I didn’t realize you were so chaste, Danny.”
His eyes darken. “I think you remember my lack of chastity, Gracie.”
It’s my turn to blush while he grins triumphantly.
I put my hands on my hips. “Okay. So, if it’s not a sex thing, why won’t you show me your room?”
“If you would simply let me finish even one complete sentence, I would tell you that it’s just a force of habit not to bring people to that part of the house. It’s my personal space.”
I wince. “Ah, you only bring special guests to your room. Got it.”
He’s still grinning for some reason. “I actually haven’t ever brought anyone to this house outside of my family. When I moved here five years ago, I knew I wanted to keep my home as a place just for me.”
“I understand. We don’t have to go see it. I don’t want to intrude,” I say cautiously.
“If you want to see it, I’ll show you. Anything you want, Gracie.
” He reaches for me, almost as a reflex, before quickly shoving his hand in his pocket.
For a moment, I find myself wishing he would’ve followed his instinct.
Would his hand be warmer now, his grip stronger than before?
Would I feel the same sense of safety I did with our fingers intertwined?
Instead, he leads me down a different hallway, away from the main guest bedrooms and bathrooms.
As we reach the narrow space outside his bedroom door, I count at least twenty picture frames on the wall, like a gallery. When I move closer to the frames, I slowly bring my hand to my lips. Staring in awe, I’m not sure what picture to look at first, because some of them…are of us.
Danny and me, sitting on our log by the creek on the eve of my tenth birthday. My head is resting on his shoulder, and there’s a football by his feet. Grandma Mae must’ve captured us when we weren’t looking.
Danny and me, mid-air, jumping on his bed while playing air guitar and jamming to an emo punk song. Janie took this one. She was probably laughing her ass off. We thought we were so cool.
Danny and me, giggling as we spin around in a carousel at the fairgrounds. This one appears to be an attempted selfie, as it’s completely dragged out and blurred from all the lights.
Danny and me, with our arms around each other after he scored a sixty-yard touchdown during his last game at Winfield High. Definitely taken by his little sister, Tessa, because the centering is all off. I’m pretty sure that’s part of her knuckle in one corner.
And then there’s us, standing in front of my college dorm. A small ball forms in the pit of my stomach. It’s hard to stare at that one. We were so in love, thinking that we had our whole lives in front of us.
“It’s…me,” I whisper incredulously. “Sorry, I just mean, there are, um, pictures of us. Not all of them, of course, but I’m there, and…and you’re there,” I stumble, not believing my own eyes.
I try to ignore my heart, which is beating at lightning speed.
A flurry of questions race through my mind.
How long have the pictures been on this wall?
He said he moved here five years ago. Has this gallery been here the whole time?
Was it at his last place, when he was probably seeing other women? Did they wonder who I was?
I can feel his gaze on my neck. “You are a big part of my life, Gracie,” he says carefully. Present tense. I move past that and focus on each picture, zeroing in on details I haven’t seen in years.
I tuck a curl behind my ear. It immediately springs back in front of my face. My eyes stay glued to the wall as I breathe out a gust of air. “These are, wow. Lots of memories.”
“Yes.”
I twist the bracelet on my wrist. “We look so young.”
“Yes.”
Lightly tapping my foot on the floor, I turn to face him. “You searched for these specific ones and printed them out?”
“It would’ve been harder to find pictures without you in them.”
I blink rapidly. “Oh. Right. So, it was a convenience thing.”
His hazel eyes stare directly into mine. “No.”
I swallow nervously and take a moment to look at the pictures without me in them.
Danny wearing a medal with Tessa after what looks like a 5K.
Janie and him making cinnamon rolls together in his kitchen downstairs.
Danny in a suit, standing between a beautiful couple on their wedding day. Was he the officiant?
In one picture, Danny’s on a trail, hiking up a mountain with two pretty women and a man.
In another, he’s laughing with a group of friends at a bar and holding a birthday balloon with the number twenty-five on it.
I stand there, closely studying the faces of people I don’t recognize, like they’ll tell me all about the Danny they know.
Feeling a little uneasy, I consider looking away before my eye catches on a very familiar face.
I smile fondly at a picture of Charger while memories of him playing with us by the creek roll like a film reel in my mind.
One of my favorite pictures of the two of them hangs in the center of the wall.
Janie took the portrait, and the picture is heavily saturated to highlight Charger’s rich, chocolate brown coat.
You can see every whisker in detail, including droplets of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth.
As I scan the rest of the colorful Charger pictures, I spot one in black and white.
Charger is sitting between us on Danny’s deck, and we’re all facing away from the camera.
This one is a dual frame, with the picture on one side and…
Oh my God. I take a shaky step forward. It’s my eulogy for Charger.
The one I nervously read aloud to an audience of one at the creek.
It’s behind glass, but I reach out as if I could touch it. The amount of wrinkles in the paper rivals the letter that sits in my pocket today, both having been anxiously folded and unfolded by me while wondering when I should give it to Danny.
I turn to face him again, and his gaze pins me into place. With his eyes completely focused on me, he appears to be very interested in my expressions.
Shifting on my feet, I ask, “You kept this? For, um, fifteen years?”
“I told you I would.”
I sit with that for a moment as the memory plays back. I’ll keep this forever, he said. For a moment, I wonder why he kept this promise and not other, more important ones.
“Did you ever end up getting another dog?”
“No. My schedule makes it hard, especially if you don’t have someone at home taking care of your pet. But also, I just…couldn’t.” He taps on the center of his downturned bottom lip with his thumb. “Not after Charger.”