Falling From Grace

Chapter 10

10

B y the time I opened my eyes, the golden hour had settled in. Hazy streams of light peeked through the blinds, touching everything it could. Just as my eyelids started to become heavy again, the sound of an engine woke me, and I rose from the couch. I peeked outside and flinched in surprise as I saw Pa fall onto the ground. A six pack of beer tumbled from under his arm, causing a group of dogs to bark. I rushed outside. His hand splayed itself on the first step of the porch, attempting to push himself up. I quickly headed down the steps as he struggled to stand. I stepped closer to assist him but stopped when he said, “Don’t. Don’t fucking help me. Just don’t.”

“ Pa—?”

“When are those mutts gonna shut their fucking trap? I’m sick and tired of it.” Pa stood, and started to pick up the bottles of beer, but he stopped to hold his left side and groan. “Gosh dang it. My ribs are killin’ me.”

“Pa, stop. You need to sit down.” I reached to touch his arm, but he smacked my hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Pa spat and looked over, spotting Arlene standing outside. “What are you looking at, bitch? What? You wish you could’ve done this?” he gestured to his whole face. “Get your butt over here and see what will happen! I dare ya! Let’s see what ya got, Arlene!”

“ Pa—?”

“Shut up!” He whipped around and faced me, his glazed eyes wide and furious. “You keep that mouth of yours shut, I swear, or I’ll shut it for you.” Pa hit my shoulder as he stormed past me and into the trailer.

I looked at Arlene and turned away.

Shutting the door behind me, I saw that Pa had already begun ransacking the fridge. Containers of leftovers hit the floor as he struggled to reach all the way in the back, straining his already sore muscles. I knew it was painful for him to move, but it was as if that pain somehow only fueled his anger even more. Seeing him this way had brought me back to the times when he would always pop open a cold one after hitting my mama. Propping his feet on the coffee table in his favorite chair with a beer beside him always made him feel better. As if the alcohol itself had burned away the sins he had just committed. And as I stood here, I no longer saw my pa. The happy memories that had kept me going didn’t matter anymore. All I saw was a man who was just as tormented as me. But the ache of my own body made me realize his pain was different. The kind of pain he could only live with if he took it out on my mama and now me. Tears welled in my eyes watching this sad, pained soul, unraveling as he tried to make sense of his world.

Pa pulled himself out of the fridge and slammed the door. “Your ma come here and take all the beer? Or what?”

“No, Pa, she didn’t.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you think I’d believe anything that comes out of your fucking mouth?” Pa pointed, looking back at me with wild and crazed eyes. “You gonna tell me you weren’t the girl in that man’s truck now? I told you to not do one thing. One thing, Grace!”

“He was just helping me!”

“Yeah, sure he was. Cause all men just want to help a pretty girl,” Pa slurred. “That man has been wanting that thing between your legs since the second he rolled up in here and saw ya. And we know how easy it is for you to spread your legs. Hell, it’s easy for all of you Callaway women.”

“I haven’t done anything!”

“Yeah, and your mother wasn’t a liar or a whore.”

“Pa, I’m not lying,” I pleaded, standing with my arms hanging by my sides. “I’m not, Pa.” I stepped closer but stopped as he looked at me. “Pa, please. I didn’t mean—I didn’t mean—?”

“I-I didn’t,” Pa mocked. “What? You didn’t do what, Grace? You just stood there watching him beat me up! And then you ran off with that fucker! A goddamn stranger had to drop me off at the hospital! A fucking stranger, Grace! They didn’t even ask what happened! They all just assumed it was my fault! Again! That I finally got what I deserve! That’s what that fat fucker of a doctor said to me!” His words came at me with such an intensity that I winced. “So just spit it out, Grace! Tell me what I did wrong now. Tell me. Gimme another reason to believe how much of a screw up I am!”

I swallowed, surprised my stare did not waver from him. What was worse was that I had nothing to say. He was right about everything, and the little girl in me didn’t care anymore. “What did I ever do to you, Pa?”

“You wanna know what you did, Grace?” Pa walked straight up to me, but this time I didn’t move. “You happened! That’s what! You’re the kid who keeps ruining my fucking life! I had dreams! I wanted to be something! But nooo. I kept that on hold for you and your stupid mother!”

“I never asked you for anything! I never expected anything more than what a child expects from their father!” I yelled.

He raised his brows, surprised, some shame gleaming in his eyes.

“You let Mama push you around! That wasn’t my fault! I was just a child! It wasn’t my fault your dreams were put on hold! You figure it out! That’s what you do! You don’t blame your kid!”

His eyes flared, and the flicker of sadness was quickly replaced with fury once again. “Oh, fuck you, Grace! Fuck you!” Pa exclaimed as he paced back and forth. “Fuck you! You know nothin’! Nothin’!”

“You didn’t need to stay. If you were that unhappy, you should’ve left. Mama and I would’ve been fine without you.”

“Are you kidding me? You don’t know the first thing about your mother. You think she’d show up for you? Especially now? You’re the one who couldn’t keep her legs fucking shut! Now you’re knocked up just like your mother was! Not even your Granny wanted ya! You needed me! I stepped up, and look at what that got me. You’re just a fucking, ungrateful child, Grace. You always have been. I step up every day for you, and you just sit around doing fucking nothing! I’m the one who showed up! Not your mama! Not Arlene! Me! All me!” Pa yelled in my face and stepped back, catching his breath. “And you wanna know somethin’ else, Grace?” His voice went almost soft. “You’re gonna mess that kid up, too. Because that’s all you Callaway women do.?”

I slapped him. He slowly turned his head. Tears swelled behind my eyes like a tidal wave, and my throat tightened as I realized I had just crossed a line I could never step back from. There was no time to avoid his powerful backhand. Pain exploded through my head the second I hit the chair and tumbled to the floor. I cried out and tentatively touched the side of my temple. My vision blurred only for a moment as I focused on my red fingertips. Pa turned down the hall and shut the bedroom door. A sharp ache pinched my chest. The same one I felt when I watched my mama leave. When I heard the shoe boxes falling from the top shelf in the bedroom closet, I knew I had done what my mama had not.

Still stifling my cries, I called out, “Pa.” When there was no answer but just the sounds of drawers opening and closing, I did it again. “Pa. I’m sorry. Pa, please,” I pleaded between shaky breaths.

Pa appeared from the bedroom holding the straps of a large duffle bag. I managed to pull myself up as quickly as I could just as his shoulder brushed past me and toward the door. My fingers grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, but he yanked his arm away without so much as a glance at me.

“Pa!” I ran outside as he was opening the driver’s side door of his truck. “Pa! Stop! Please!”

My feet came to a stop as I watched him climb into the driver’s seat without a second thought. As I heard the engine come to life, the sensation of loss was replaced with something I hadn’t ever felt before. Or maybe it was there all along. Dormant. I held in my breath, fearful of the sounds scrambling up my throat, longing for release. The rage was so overwhelming that at first no sounds escaped me. I just stood there. Every bit of me yearned to see the brake lights, because then I would know that this was just as hard for him. By the time my words found release, there was no one to hear it but me.

“Fine! Leave!” I screamed.

I took off my sandals, throwing each one at the back of the truck as he drove away.

“Leave just like Mama!”

Be it the pain from my head or my heart, the ground seemed to spin. I hunched over as my knees buckled. Rapid footsteps crunched on the gravel.

“Grace!” Arlene cried out, rushing over to my side. “Oh gosh, your head! You’re gonna be okay. Ray! Ray, get the keys!”

That’s when everything that had been holding me together fell apart. Tears started to cloud my vision as the weight of it all came crashing down on me. Pa. Mama. My grandparents. My baby. Me. My entire body shook from the violent sobs that could no longer be contained. I could hear the concerned voice of Arlene urging me to move. Yet even as the scorching dirt burned my feet, all I could do was just cry and completely lean my full weight into Arlene’s side as she tried to shuffle us over to the car.

“Sweetie, you gotta work with me. I can’t drag you. Ray! Hurry up!” she yelled, keeping her arm around me.

I then saw the familiar outline of a blurry figure running over towards us.

“Grace!” Peter said, frantic. When I blinked away the tears and saw his clear expression, it only deepened the guilt inside me. “Grace, what happened? Why’s she bleeding?” he asked Arlene, coming to a running stop.

“I-I don’t know. I think she fell. Ray! Get out here!” Arlene shouted, struggling to keep me upright. “Sweetie, you gotta help me here. I can’t keep holding you up like this. Will you help her into the car for me?”

“Yeah, let me—?”

“No! Just stop helping me!” I cried out at Peter and hit his chest. “I don’t need it!” On the second hit, he stepped back, calmly. “I didn’t need it then! I don’t need it now! So just stop it!”

“Grace—?” Peter began.

“This is all your fault! If you hadn’t done anything, my pa wouldn’t have left! Why did you have to care?”

“Grace, listen to me.”

He placed his hands on the sides of my arms, and with his touch, my cries became louder as the loneliness cemented itself deeper into my chest. I was all alone. My baby and me. We’re all alone. The wall had started to crack the day I woke up nine years ago and didn’t smell Mama’s chocolate chip pancakes. Now, it was completely gone. Every support I’d ever had, had now crumbled.

“Why couldn’t you have left me alone? I didn’t need your help. This is all my fault. I—?”

“It’s not your fault that he left. Do you hear me, Grace? It’s not your fault,” Peter said.

I shook my head, yanking myself away from him.

“Hey.” He grabbed my shoulders tighter this time. “You need to get yourself together and think of your baby right now. You hear me? You—?”

I protested through incoherent sobs, struggling to free myself from his stronghold. A hold that made me feel calm and safe, something I didn’t feel I should deserve. His grip became stronger, and my cries became louder as I withered in his arms. My hands tried to slap him away in a feeble attempt. He turned me around and locked his arms around my chest, keeping my arms pinned to my sides. My legs kicked until my mind and body gave up fighting, leaving him to support me. I shut my eyes, failing to stifle a broken cry as the shock finally began to subside. The steady rise and fall of his chest against my back and the tightness of his arms around me soothed every frazzled nerve. He didn’t say a word, allowing me to cool down at my own pace. The security of his arms and body caused my anxiety to slowly fall away. Right then, I knew I wanted to be in these arms anytime I cried for the rest of my life. The ground disappeared from beneath me. Peter lifted me into his arms, as if I were a baby, and I was far too tired to fight back.

“Where’s the closest hospital?” he asked.

“Northwest. We’ll go with you,” Arlene answered as she climbed into the car with Ray.

T

My head rested against the seat, staring into the darkness as we drove home. It almost gave me the sensation of floating. The only sources of light were the high beams of Peter’s truck and Ray’s car traveling behind us. In some ways it was peaceful. In other ways it wasn’t. I looked at Peter just as he reached over to take a sip of his black coffee to keep him focused on the white lines. Though it was dark, I could see the subtle purplish hue surrounding the side of his eye, reminding me of the guilt that was still present in my chest. And even though he acted stoic, there were fleeting moments when his guard was down just long enough to catch a glimpse of what he might be thinking. Like right now. A part of me wanted to ask. But instead, I looked back outside and watched the few glimpses of lights speed by.

Pop. Thud.

Harley shot straight up from the backseat. We safely pulled off to the side of the highway. Ray followed and parked behind us. “I think we popped a tire. I’ll be right back,” Peter said, catching Harley’s panicked eyes. “Hey, I’ll be right outside, buddy. Okay?” He climbed out of the truck and shut the door. Harley whined and circled around three times, resting his chin on the center console. His stomach rose and fell at a fast pace, looking around with big, frantic eyes.

“It’s okay. He’ll be right back.” I placed my hand on Harley to scratch behind his ears.

Slowly but surely, Harley’s breathing fell to a normal pace, and he began to doze off. My fingers continued to gently scratch the middle of his ear. I then heard muffled chatter between Ray and Peter outside. Leaning over, I checked the side mirror and spotted them inspecting the rear right tire. Arlene walked over and knocked on the window. Harley’s ears perked, but his eyes didn’t open.

I rolled the window down. “How bad is it?”

“Not too bad,” Arlene said and folded her arms. “You gonna be okay if Ray and I go on ahead? He’s gonna wanna change the tire, and you know his back. He’ll throw it out again.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Alright. And when you get home, promise me you’ll go to bed. The doctor said to take it easy.”

“I know, Arlene.”

She exhaled and smiled, saying, “I know you know. I just say it so many times because I love you.” If it wasn’t for the headlights reflecting the tears in her eyes, it would have been the hitch in her voice that told me she was resisting the impulse to cry. She reached in and cupped my cheek tenderly. “Alright. We’ll see you back at home. Be safe,” she said and walked away. “Ray! Get up. Come on.”

“ What?”

“ We’re goin’.”

I settled back against the seat, resting my tired eyes. A creak and a loud thud abruptly woke me up. Harley whined and looked toward the bed of the truck. I saw the clock. Only five minutes had gone by. I opened the door and carefully lowered myself onto the ground. Harley stuck his head outside and watched me make my way to the end of the truck. Peter had jumped into the back to grab the spare tire. He held a small flashlight between his teeth, inspecting the tire’s tread. After doing so, he then took the light from his mouth and examined the other side, muttering to himself.

“You need any help with that?”

He flinched and turned around, bringing the light with him. I squinted, holding up my hand in an attempt to shield the light from my face. “Grace? What are you doin’ out here? It’s not safe. There’s snakes out here. And scorpions. I really don’t need something else happening to you right now.”

“I’ve grown up here all my life, and I’ve never been bitten. Not once. And damn it if I do tonight, so hand me the flashlight before you break a tooth,” I said, holding out my hand.

“ Grace—?”

“I’m not asking for the spare tire, Peter. It will take half the time if I help you,” I insisted.

He looked at the large tire and then at me with a sigh. He extended his arm and I reached up, taking the flashlight. I stepped closer, keeping the beam of light centered to where he stood until he jumped down onto the ground. He centered the jack underneath the frame and locked it into place. For the next ten minutes, I kept my hand on top of the spare tire and the light on his hands as he began to remove the lug nuts. Every few seconds I’d glance to make sure the jack was secured when he started to remove the flat tire from the hub. And as he did, I found myself becoming fascinated by his hands. I had forgotten how rough they appeared at first glance. I had even forgotten the little scars across his palm. But most of all, I remembered that night. When he had unintentionally grabbed my hand. It was anything but coarse. Much like his hands, his voice had a funny way of melting all my bad thoughts away. They didn’t completely disappear, but they were darn close to it. Close enough to make my mind quiet. His eyes turned upward, landing on my face, and I averted mine, flustered.

He held out his palm with a few lug nuts. “Mind holding these?”

“ Sure.”

“Thank you,” he said and grabbed the spare tire, securing it to the hub. One by one, Peter plucked each lug nut from my hand and reinstalled them. He then lowered the jack and removed it from underneath the frame, standing upright. He wiped the dirt off his knees and exhaled. Sweat was slicked across his forehead. He kicked the side of the tire, double checking its stability.

“Sorry I couldn’t help more.”

“Hey, you kept the tire from rolling down the road, that’s more than I could’ve asked for.”

I watched as he put away the jack and lug wrench into the utility box. His shoulder brushed past me as he carried the box in his hand, sliding it into the bed of the truck before hopping up. Peter stood and let out a sigh of exhaustion. I carefully lifted myself onto the tailgate, allowing my feet to dangle, and observed him standing there. Like with my mama and pa, I’ve learned better to not ask or say anything. If and when he wants to, he will tell me. Only after he wiped the sweat from his forehead and let out another breath did he push the heavy box back towards the corner with his boot. I looked away and turned my attention to the overflowing clusters of stars and constellations.

I let out my first easy breath.

It wasn’t until I was five that I knew this existed. It was breathtaking. It was moments like this when the little girl in me remembered the few times Mama and I would stargaze in the back of Pa’s truck. Admiring the vast sky and stars one night, my mama had turned to me and said: Every choice you’ll make, sweet pea, may seem big , but if you step back just enough, you’ll realize just how small it is in the grand scheme of things. I stared upwards, hoping that some shooting star would appear and point me in the right direction. A creak made me turn my head. Peter jumped onto the ground.

“We should git goin’. It’s late. I’m not a big fan of driving at night, kid. Ray and Arlene—?”

“Would you stop calling me a kid? I’m sick and tired of it.” I turned back to the sky. “I’m about to be a mom. And I’d rather be stuck out here than at home. I just need ... a second. Alright?”

Though I couldn’t see it, I knew he scratched the back of his left ear. He cleared his throat. Our eyes met, and he halted in his tracks as if he expected me to protest. When I said nothing, he continued to sit down next to me. He exhaled, rubbed the back of his neck, and then dropped his hands to his lap. He seemed to scan the perimeter; his legs set at a wide stance, readying himself to stand at any moment. I drifted my attention to my pink hospital slippers. A few moments passed until we heard the cries of coyotes in the distance. His head turned in the direction of the sound.

“They’re not gonna hurt you,” I said. “They’re more afraid of you than you are of them. My mama actually used to say hearing a coyote’s howl meant good things were on their way. I think of that whenever I hear them. Like there’s something bigger than me, living out there. Helps me forget all the wrong choices I’ve made. It’s funny, because every bad thing that has happened to me has happened on a day with an odd number,” I thought out loud. “Just an hour ago it was still August 23rd. The day my pa left ... I was nine when my mama left. It’s why I’ve always liked even numbers. Cause maybe it means some good is on its way ... I know I can’t go on living life like that, but don’t you think it all means somethin’?” I stared at the sky. “What we do? No matter how little it is?”

Peter expressed no indication that he had heard me, and yet I felt his weight shift. When I looked over, his eyes settled onto my face and then turned to the horizon. “Maybe,” he said, doubtful. “What makes you ask that?”

“I don’t know. Like every choice I’ve made has led me to this very moment, sitting here, on my birthday. Every time there was a chance to do the right thing, I somehow always wound up doing the thing that made it even more horrible. Like what happened with my pa,” I answered and let out another soft breath. “I just thought I would have graduated and left by now, but here I am . . . I don’t know, maybe I do deserve to have all this happen to me. I hated my mama for having me when she couldn’t even take care of herself, and now look at me ... I’m just like her. Stuck here. I’m two years older now than she was when she had me, and yet I still feel like a poster child for teenage pregnancy.” I shook my head and laughed. “I really am a joke.”

“Hey, don’t ever say that. You hear me?” Peter declared. “You really think this is what you deserve?”

“I don’t know. The things I want haven’t happened.”

“Things take time, Grace. That I know for certain.”

“Have they for you?”

He didn’t say anything for several seconds but soon followed with a somber, “Well, things don’t work out for many reasons, Grace. You just make a new plan when that happens. That’s what I’ve done these past seven years,” he replied. I couldn’t tell if he was just simply agreeing with me to put an end to this conversation or being genuine.

“So, what, am I just being punished?” I asked, finally admitting the one question that had been weighing on my mind.

He looked at me, taken aback. “Bad stuff happens to good people, Grace. That’s just part of life. I should know that. I’ve seen enough bad things to last a lifetime. Things I can’t repress,” he said and lowered his gaze to the ground. A dark thought had taken over, and he hesitated to speak. “After two tours in Iraq and one in Iran, I’ve seen things most men my age won’t ever see, things that would give anyone gray hair.” His words hit me hard, seeing the grief behind those dark brown eyes. “So, no, you’re not being punished, Grace.” He scratched at his beard, letting out a breath. “ You’re not.”

“Why not, though? I’m about to have a baby out of wedlock. There’s plenty of reasons why God would punish me. I mean, I don’t really love my pa anymore. I don’t care if I never see him again. Is that horrible to say?”

“No, I know that feeling all too well with my pop,” he said in a softer tone.

“But when I saw him leaving, it was like ...” I paused, afraid my voice would break.

“You were scared.”

“And it’s okay to be scared?”

“Of course it is.”

“And you ... you’re okay?”

“Yeah. What makes you think I’m not okay? I don’t panic unless I need to. Wastes energy.”

“How you’ve been acting these past few days makes it seem like you’re not,” I said, looking at him.

He said nothing as his brows drew together, two hard lines forming between them. But there was something else lingering behind those surprised brown eyes, like he wasn’t expecting his own response. Something he had locked away for years, and it was now out there in the open space. Peter turned away and said, “Grace, I may not be a firm believer in God, because if He really does exist, I think He’s doing a crappy job, but I know for a fact He’s not punishing you. God doesn’t do that. Not to you, or anyone.”

I hadn’t ever thought it was possible for someone to say something so profound. Much less to me. Other than Arlene, Ray, and Sam, I believed no one else would speak to me the way those three did. Like a good and kind person. Flaws and all. Even the way he was looking at me right this second. The promise in his face alone would make anyone trust his words. And I did. He turned away, regret burning in his eyes. Like the night of the fair.

“I know . . . I know I haven’t given you much reason to think I’m a good guy, Grace. But I am very sorry for what I did to your father.”

He didn’t say another word as he kept his eyes on the ground. Seeing him like this reminded me of the times when my mama would stand on the porch. She never moved much. All she did was smoke her cigarette, hoping the nicotine would burn away the remains of her tears and bad memories. Those were the moments when all I wanted to do was ask her what was wrong, but I knew she would play it off and smile at me like there was no one else in the world but the two of us. Peter leaned his head back toward the stars. Like he was searching for a shooting star of his own to point him in the right direction. Though he only closed his eyes for a moment, it was the first time he seemed truly calm. At peace. Yet when he opened his eyes and released a breath, reality had returned.

“Look we should really get goin’. It’s late. We’ve both had a long night,” he said and slipped off the tailgate. “I think both of us could use some sleep, so come on.” Peter held out his hand. I hesitated at first but took it. He helped me down and walked ahead to the passenger door and held it open, waiting for me to climb in.

Just as I was about to, he spoke. “Hey look ... you better not say that kind of thing again. Alright? I don’t want you thinking that way. Okay? It’s not good.” He gave me an awkward pat on the side of my arm. “Alright, let’s, uh, we should get going. It’s gittin’ pretty late.” He cleared his throat and hastily turned away. His face flushed red in the headlights as he walked around the front of the truck.

No other words were said for the remainder of the drive. And like all the other times I had arrived back home, there was nothing I wanted more than to leave. Even with the emptiness that now awaited me. My body ached for rest, but before I could make my way to the bedroom a wave of nausea hit me. I raced into the bathroom. Knowing I wouldn’t make it to the toilet, I heaved into the sink and gripped the counter. I shut my eyes and rested my hot forehead against the cool mirror. Turning on the faucet, I gently patted water on the back of my neck. Taking a breath, I braved the sight of my reflection.

My hair was a tangled mess. Two dark shadows cast a half moon underneath each sunken red eye. Reaching up, my fingers touched the purplish hue surrounding my temple. I leaned back and looked at Mama’s compact concealer in the basket of old makeup she had long forgotten. She’d always smear some on to forget. I wondered if it would do the same for me. But I didn’t want to forget. Nothing could make me forget.

Nothing could take away the pain. Even the scattered clothes across the bedroom floor was a sight I knew I couldn’t forget. They were like Mama’s. And just like her, it was a sign that he had been in an obvious rush to leave.

I lay on the bed and stared at the white popcorn ceiling. Tears started to push their way up, but I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing them away. Taking a breath, I held it and listened for any sign of Pa. Silence. Like the times Pa had stayed the nights at Uncle Wayne’s, I always enjoyed the quiet. Every noise I had heard since I was little was clearer. So clear, like I had discovered it all over again. Even the soft thump thump of my feet hitting the floor. Yet this wasn’t the same. This was a different kind of silence. A silence of loneliness that would bring only one of two things. Peace or torture. But for now, in this moment, it was peaceful. It was just me and my baby girl. That’s all that mattered. I exhaled as the numbness slowly lulled me into a deep sleep.

T

Rays of sun streamed through the blinds, and I was hit with the sudden realization and disappointment that I had missed the sunrise again. A part of me wanted to go outside, hoping the Arizona heat would somehow melt the pain and heaviness in my chest. Yet like the day I found out I had a baby growing inside me, I wanted to bury myself underneath a blanket and let all the bad thoughts torture me. They had a way of slipping into the crevices of mind and heart. Never leaving. Just hiding. In the nooks and crannies. Making room for the other little hardships to come and settle. And as much as I wanted to stay in bed and succumb to the mental exhaustion from the past twelve hours, I sat up, let out a breath, and placed my feet onto the floor. I was like Mama in every way now. Bruises and all. Even on the bad days, Mama brushed herself off, pulled back the tears, and got up. Cause like me, she knew if she didn’t, she would never move again.

The sound of an engine quickened my pace, and I ran into the kitchen, looking out the window in hopes of seeing Pa, only to catch the sight of Peter’s truck leaving down the road. I pulled myself back from the counter and set my feet on the floor. On days like today, when the bad thoughts did torture me, all I could do was sit down and ride it out till it was okay again. Like a monsoon. Whenever a heat wave broke, the floods came. Staring at the two empty chairs across from me at the kitchen table, I remembered learning from the time I was five years old a monsoon could exist in everything and in everyone.

“ Whaddya mean I gotta go out to get her a new cake? This one’s fine. It has —?”

“She doesn’t like cakes with colored frosting. She only eats vanilla. Remember?”

“She’s a kid. They like frosting.”

“Not your kid, Bill.”

“ Uh-huh.”

“Just get your daughter what she —?”

“She’s a kid! She’s not gonna care! Can’t you just shut up?!”

A knock at the door made me flinch. I stood and crossed the kitchen to peek out the curtain only to quickly duck. “Grace?” Arlene asked. “Grace, I know you’re in there. I just wanted to check in on you and to tell you that Ray’s gonna put up the awning for you tomorrow. Storm’s a comin’.”

Hearing her departing footsteps, I pulled back the curtain, watching her leave. Though I had convinced myself I was fine alone, every sound made me jump, preparing for the worst. After a much-needed shower, I wandered to the couch and kept myself occupied rereading my old editions of Reader’s Digest and listening to the few cassette tapes I had of Elvis Presley. Other than Arlene stopping by again and dropping off a dish of her baked macaroni and cheese, there weren’t any other interruptions.

The light flashed from my Polaroid, and I pulled back the camera, taking out the printed photo, waving it dry. As it developed and the curve of my belly became more prominent, I couldn’t help but smile. I slid the picture underneath the plastic cover in its precise place in the scrapbook, cutting out shapes and glueing pink ribbon to adorn the page. I flipped through the many empty pages, waiting to be used for happier days. As silly as I had felt accepting this gift from Arlene, a part of me hoped that one day this book would be filled to the brim with those happy moments.

The next morning I opened my eyes to the sound of a clatter, and I swung my legs off the couch. Giving myself a moment longer to refocus and clear the haze of a deep sleep, I stood to open the door. There was Ray on a step stool, struggling to secure the awning to the frame of the trailer. Sweat slicked across his forehead and his armpits. He fiddled with one of the screws and muttered expletives to himself before he finally turned his head.

“Oh, howdy, Grace. Just give me another few minutes and I’ll be done in a jiff. Okay?”

I folded my arms and leaned against the door frame, watching him wrangle with the screw. “You want any help?”

“No, I got it,” he said.

Looking over, I saw Arlene carrying an overnight bag to the car. “Where you guys goin’?”

Ray stepped down from the stool. “Finally. Got that sucker to stick,” he said, out of breath. “Oh, we’re gonna head up to Flagstaff where Paul is for a few days. We’re gonna try and leave before the rain hits. They have some big news. I reckon he knocked up his wife again. I swear that boy needs a vasectomy.” He shook his head, moving to the other side of the awning. “ Hey, Arlene!”

“What?” she called out and shut the trunk, making her way over with a packet. “You need the manual again?”

“No. I don’t need the manual. Do we have any room for Grace in the back? You could hitch a ride with us.”

“Ray, I’ll be fine. We didn’t get much flooding here last year. Besides, I have Sam right up the road.”

“Grace, sweetie, it sounds like it’s gonna get bad,” Arlene said and walked up to the porch.

“Uncle Wayne laid a slab of foundation almost a year ago. If anything, I’ll be safer,” I replied.

Ray sighed and shared a meaningful look with Arlene before securing the other side of the awning. He stepped down and wiped the dirt off his hands. “You know, I never really liked that Wayne. Something about him always rubbed me the wrong way,” he muttered. Arlene looked over at him.

“Everyone rubs you the wrong way, Ray,” she said.

“ Not everyone.”

“Thank you, Ray. For the awnin’,” I said with a smile. He gave a brief wave of his hand and grabbed the stepladder, heading back to their trailer. Arlene returned her attention to me and folded her arms.

“I don’t like the thought of leaving you alone here for a few days, Grace. Especially after the other day. The doctor said to take it easy. I know you’ve lived here all your life, but drowning and valley fever are very real things.”

“I’ll be okay, Arlene. There’s no arroyos around here. We’re on flat land. I just have to ride it out.”

Arlene briefly turned her sights on Peter’s trailer before facing me. “You stocked up on food? Water?” she asked, but before I could answer, she continued. “Okay, before Ray and I take off tomorrow we’ll drop you off at Sam’s so you can get some things. He’ll drive you back. And if anything happens, knock on wood, that one—?” Arlene pointed to Peter’s trailer— “will be over here faster than two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Don’t give me that look, girlie. You know I’m right.”

“ Mm-hmm.”

“Oh, and before I forget.” She took out a pink card from her back pocket, handing it to me. “It’s a bit crinkled, but I was supposed to give this to ya yesterday. It ain’t much. But we wanna get you a cake when we get back. And we’re not taking no for an answer. You’re nineteen now.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Arlene.”

She took the last step up the porch and gave me a quick peck on the head. “Happy birthday, sweetie.” Arlene smiled and walked away but stopped halfway to her trailer, looking back at me. “And Grace, tomorrow afternoon, you got that? Don’t go walking there on your own.” She pointed at me with her finger.

“I got it, Arlene.”

“ Good.”