On Solid Ground: Sequel to in Too Deep (21 page)

I knocked on Gracie’s door and waited. I knocked again. I put my ear to the door and could hear her singing. She belted out some lyrics then whispered a few more then belted more out again. It was a beautiful melody and very different from anything I’d ever heard. I knocked. I could hear the shower running, so I used my key to let myself in and knocked on the bathroom door. Of course, she screamed.

“Gracie, it’s Jake. Are you almost ready?”

“You really need to stop stalking me.” I heard a quiet giggle.

She turned the water off, and I heard the shower door slide open. I tried not to picture what she would look like stepping out, glistening with hot water.
Stop it. Stop it.

“Shit. Jake!” She yelled really loud and startled me out of my R-rated daydream.

“I’m right here. Man, you’re loud.”

She giggled. “Can you grab my towel out of the bedroom?”

“Yep.” I wanted so badly to walk right into her bathroom and wrap her up in her towel then take her into her bedroom and make love to her.

“Any day now, slowpoke. I’m freezing!”

“I’m sorry; it’s just taking me a long time to find it.” I lied. “What color is it?”

“
Jake!
”

“I got it, keep your shirt on...oh, wait you don’t have a shirt on.”

She started to open the door, and I prayed for divine intervention to bring her out stark naked. But her arm shot out of the barely opened door instead. I glanced up into the space above her, and, because of the placement and tilt of the mirror; I got a clear view of her beautiful ass. It was wet and...she slammed the door.

Within seconds, she hurried out, wrapped in the towel. Her hair was dripping, and little water droplets trailed in between her breasts and down her back, all of them sneaking under the towel. She shut her bedroom door behind her. I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my jeans and leaned against the wall. I tilted my head against the door.

“So, you didn’t mention how counseling went on Saturday.” I waited at least a full minute. She didn’t respond. “Gracie, did you hear me? How was counseling?”

“It was fine, Jake.” Her voice was raspy and her words were quick. Then she changed the subject. “I’m so nervous to meet your mom!”

“Why? She’s just a mom.”

“No, Jake, she’s not
just
a mom. She’s
your
mom and she made
you
. She probably compares all the people our age to the wonderful, genuine, kind, loving, smart...blah, blah, blah...kid she raised. That’s a lot of pressure.”

“She’ll love you. I promise.” I turned my back against the wall and crossed my arms over my chest.

“I forget what you told me she does. Where does she work again?”

“She’s a guidance counselor at the high school in Jackson.”

“Oh, so she’s used to dealing with students. Great, so she’ll be able to read me right away.”

“Will you please stop worrying? I know my mom; I promise I’ll bring you home unscathed.” I shook my head and smiled then walked over to the couch and flipped through the channels on the TV while I waited for her to get ready.

Her bedroom door opened and Gracie Jordan took my breath away. She was in a sleeveless little black dress that came right to her knees. All of her jewelry was silver, and her hair was up. She had just a touch of make-up, on and even her fingernails were painted.

“Gracie—”

“Shut up, Jake.” She blew by me toward the kitchen.

“Hey, just a minute.” I hopped up and took her gently by the arm. “Aren’t you supposed to be working on being able to take a compliment?”

“Yes.” She hung her head then lifted it just enough to look up at me out of the corner of her eye.

“Let’s try this again. Gracie, you look stunning.”

She closed her eyes for a brief second and took a deep breath. Then her eyes opened, locked onto mine. “Thank you, Jake. You look very handsome this evening, too.”

She held her eyes steady and smiled. She didn’t look away, and that stole my breath away.

“Come on, I want to show my mom how amazing you are.”

“Yes, let’s show her.” She spoke in some accent I’d never heard before and took exaggerated steps as she swayed her hips from left to right like a big dork. But she was a beautiful dork. And I was proud to introduce her to my mom.

****

“Gracie, Jake tells me you play guitar.”

We’d been through the introductions and small talk on the drive to the restaurant, a fancy place on the outskirts of town. There was a reservation desk and linen napkins. It had been a couple years since I had been someplace fancier than
Mitchell’s
or the dining hall.

“Yes, I do. I took lessons for a while then stopped when I transferred here, but Jake talked me into starting up again.” She twisted her napkin in her lap, so I reached over and gently laid my hand on her bare knee. She looked up at me and smiled.

“So, what kind of music do you like to play? Or sing? Do you sing, too?”

“I do sing, yes. And I have pretty eclectic taste in music. I listen to anything with lyrics that hold a story so powerful it can stop you in your tracks or fill you with emotion just from the instrumentals at the beginning.”

“Have you listened to any Brandon Boyd?”

“Yes! ‘Courage and Control’ is one of the most played tracks of all the songs on my phone.”

“I can attest to that. She listens to him all the time.” I didn’t always know the music Gracie listened to. She didn’t exaggerate when she said she had eclectic taste. But Brandon Boyd I knew from his days with Incubus. And “Courage and Control” was a beautiful song about giving yourself permission to let go of things that drag you down. It was ironic that my mom pulled that specific artist out of the air.

“So, Mrs. Rockwell, tell me a funny story about Jake.”

“Oh, no, no, no. We don’t need to—”

“Well, there are so many. Let’s see. There was this one time we were at a birthday party for one of Jake’s cousins. He was about three.”

“Mom, you are not going to tell her the pee story!” My mom wasn’t one of those people who needed to change who she was because of her surroundings. It didn’t matter that she was sipping expensive wine and had a linen napkin in her lap; she was going to tell a story about urine. I rolled my eyes and sighed.

“So, anyway, he ran inside my sister’s house to use the bathroom, but someone else was using it. I guess he panicked and had to make a rash decision.”

“Oh no.” Gracie giggled so hard, it cracked me up. Stupid story.

“He had two choices. And apparently the artificial palm tree in the corner was the winner. My sister walked in to a squishy little white butt and a guilty, but relieved, Jake, looking over his shoulder.” They both laughed for a long time over that one. I would have to remember to ask Gracie’s mom for embarrassing stories the next time she visited campus. Yeah, I was embarrassed by my “pee tree” story, but I loved seeing Gracie and my mom connect like that. It was so easy and natural. They really hit it off.

“So, Jake. You’re working at
Mitchell’s
. How’s that going?”

“I like it a lot. It was funny how the job fell into my lap, but I really enjoy seeing how a place like that is run.”

“I can’t wait to see him in action. I’m sure he’ll be raking in the tips.”

“Yeah, he’s never had any trouble getting attention from girls, that’s for sure.”

“I talked to Dad over weekend.” I needed to get the attention off all the embarrassing stories I knew were running through my mom’s head.

“Well, good. We chat, but I haven’t seen him in a while. Your dad keeps himself so busy. He has himself tucked up in the woods in that little cabin, but he’s happy, I think. He’s always tinkering with something in his garage.”

“Yeah, Martha.”

“Excuse me?” My mom let out a nervous laugh, which led me to believe she hadn’t met Martha yet.

The waiter came with our food, and it smelled delicious. Well, mine did. He set down huge plates of lettuce and veggies in front of my mom and Gracie. But I needed more protein than that. I got fettuccini with scallops, and I wasn’t about to share.

“Martha is his pet name for his latest project. He’d probably love to introduce you.” I knew my parents were happy living the single life. Each could do as they pleased and not have to worry what time they got home from work or how early they went in. But it had to be lonely. And something in my heart still held out hope they’d work things out. They deserved to be happy together.

“So, what were Jake’s other girlfriends like?” Gracie giggled and squeezed my hand under the table.

I rolled my eyes, sat back, and enjoyed my scallops. I couldn’t wait to hear my mom’s answer.

“Well, to tell you the truth, Jake used to suffer from the I-only-see-you-as-a-friend curse. It made me sad for him because I knew he wanted to have someone special in his life. But I’ve told him for years that relationships that start out as just friends seem to be the ones that stand the test of time. Guess I was right, huh, Jake?”

“You were.” I smiled at Gracie and winked at my mom.

I thought about what she said, and it gave me a sense of relief about Gracie’s and my status. I’d have to say, taking a break is a shittier place to be stuck than the friend zone. Taking a break means you already know what it’s like to be
with
that person, so the difficulty lies in knowing what your heart is missing.

****

“Jake, why exactly did your parents split up?” Gracie and I walked hand-in-hand back to our apartment building. It was a beautiful night for a long walk. She and my mom had really hit it off. I was sad my mom could only spend dinner with us, but I knew Gracie would get to see her again.

“To tell you the truth, I think they just gave up. My dad hates being a salesman, and my mom loves being a guidance counselor. I think my dad felt jealous of my mom’s job. They’d fight about all the hours she put in and the conferences she’d have to go to. I guess my dad was so beaten down by his own job, he just didn’t have the energy to weather those storms. Ya know? I think he thought she deserved better than what he gave her.”

“Your mom had a little sparkle in her eye when she talked about your dad.”

“She always does. My dad, too. I’d bet money they still love each other deeply.”

“Do you think every marriage comes with the option for divorce?”

“Wow, that’s a loaded question.” I wasn’t sure where she was going with the conversation.

“I didn’t mean for it to be. My parents have been married since they were twenty, and I’ve seen them hit some pretty serious lows in their relationship. Yet I never worried they would get divorced. But you see it so often. I just wonder why some people can’t make it work while others can.”

“Well, I think many people get married for the wrong reasons. So, when the storms come through, their commitment to each other falls away, and they just start putting themselves first. You can’t sustain a relationship when you are only thinking of yourself. I guess in those cases, divorce may be their only option if they want to live happily.”

“So, you think divorce is an option if you’re not happy?” She wasn’t playing Devil’s advocate; she was sincere.

“Let’s put it this way, I can’t say if divorce should be an option for some people, but not an option for others. It’s just not an option for me.”

“Why’s that?”

“I wouldn’t get married unless I knew for certain it was ‘until death do us part.’”

“But you can’t see into the future. How do you know what you’ll want in fifty years?”

“I know I’ll still want you in fifty years.” I stopped her, and we turned toward each other. “Gracie, my parents aren’t divorced because they couldn’t be happy together. They didn’t stay together because they didn’t fight for their relationship. I will fight for us, Gracie.”

“Me, too.” She stood on her tippy-toes and kissed me on the cheek.

Twenty-seven

Gracie

I started going to Allen Street Park during the day with a loaner guitar just to get out of my apartment.

My guitar lessons with Yaz were amazing, and he let me borrow one of his extra guitars. He was such a free spirit and just let the “vibe guide us” through each session. What Sylvia had said really made sense, my apartment
was
a trigger. I thought of all the ways I could make new memories with Jake, but most of those were sexual in nature.

There were no words for how much I missed feeling his body pressed against me in bed. I assumed that was a sign that what happened that day with Noah wouldn’t affect the intimacy Jake and I shared. We kept up our movie nights and started late night trips to the Café just to reconnect and chat. It was hard trying to stay away from what my mind, soul, and body wanted most, but I didn’t want to give myself back to Jake until I was whole again. I could see that day on the horizon.

I sat with my legs crossed and my guitar, which I was growing quite attached to, nestled in the hollow space. My journal was open to the page I wrote “Whisper” on. I was trying to work out a melody for a song that represented my dysfunctional relationship with Noah. When I would get a chord progression just perfect, I would quickly write it down and play it over and over until I could play and sing simultaneously without thinking about it. Then I would move to the next portion of the song.

It was funny, I was certainly no rock star, but when I closed my eyes and belted out the lyrics seamlessly, I could see myself on a stage. Behind my eyelids, a movie short would play. I was at the mic, situated in front of the stool I sat on.

There was rarely anyone in Allen Street Park, which is why it was a perfect place to practice. I’d spent hours here playing over the last couple weeks, and my only audience was a few old couples walking their dogs. If they walked close, I’d stop playing and pretend I was jotting something in my journal until they were at a comfortable distance. A few times, I was so into what I was playing and singing, I didn’t know anyone was there until I’d open my eyes to grab my pencil and passersby smiled and nodded in approval. But that was the extent of my audience. I had no interest in doing what Calon did. No way. I’d much rather be in front of the stage than on it.