Grace for Drowning

She scoffed. "Yeah, fat chance of that. I'm not even sure they'd answer if I called." There was a hint of sadness in her voice, although she tried to hide it. "They never approved of Tom and I, of what he did. 'Degenerate' and 'irresponsible' were some of their favorite words. We fought about it constantly. Dad was worse than mum. He's a lawyer, an old school scotch and cigars type, and he has very particular ideas about the way families should be. Mum didn't like it either, but she tried to keep the peace, kept reassuring him it was 'just a phase.' Then I told them we were moving over here together, and they couldn't hide behind that anymore. They told me that if I followed through, that was it, they were washing their hands of me. And then they did."

"That's horrible," I said.

She shrugged. "They're fairly horrible people, all things considered. I did think about contacting them, but every time I pick up the phone, I just get this knot in my stomach. Even if they did take me in, the self-righteous 'I told you so' shtick would be too much. I can't deal with that."

"What about friends? People you could stay with?"

"A few, but nobody super close. Most of my cheffing buddies moved away and took positions in different cities. There's just not a whole lot left for me there. Besides, coming out here was meant to be a new start. Crawling back to New York would feel a little too much like going backward."

"I can understand that."

"What about you?" she asked. "Parents? Siblings?"

I felt a twinge of sadness, but I pushed it away. "I've got a brother, but we don't talk anymore, and my parents were killed in a plane crash when I was sixteen."

"Oh God. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. I mean, I still miss them, but at the same time, it feels like a lifetime ago now, to be honest."

For a few seconds she stared into space. "So much for light and fluffy, hey?"

"Maybe we're just not light and fluffy people, right now."

She gave a little nod. "Maybe."

In the silence that followed, I realized Grace had held my attention for the better part of ten minutes. The restaurant was still buzzing around us, but it had stayed in the background, where it belonged. Regardless of the weight of the conversation, that was a victory for me.

"What's that smile for?" she asked.

I took her hand in mine. "I'm just happy to be here with you."

She found a smile of her own. "Me too."

We ordered, and the conversation moved into simpler waters. We talked about our childhoods, about movies, about school. It came so easily with her, nothing forced, no awkward small talk. Every so often the room would intrude, pushing its way into our little bubble, but for the most part my anxiety was held at bay, nothing more than a faint pulse running under my skin. It wasn't dissimilar to being in the ring, just the two of us talking while the world faded away.

After settling the bill we walked to a nearby mall to catch a movie. Grace had been lively so far, but outside in the cool night air, her mood seemed to sink.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

She blinked several times, as if coming back from somewhere far away. "Yes. No. I don't know." There was a pause. "I was just thinking about Tom, about the sort of dates we went on. He'd have enjoyed that place."

"Ah."

"Does that bother you?"

It was something I'd thought about a lot, but I still took my time answering. "I feel like it should, but honestly it doesn't. Nobody belongs to anyone completely, not even themselves. There's pieces of me everywhere; Ace, Fiona, Charlie, just like there's a piece of you that will always be Tom's. You spend too much time worrying about it, you miss the stuff you've got right now. We're here now and we're together, and it makes me happy to just take whatever you're able to give me."

Her eyes shone in the streetlights, two amber jewels, as a single tear traced its way down her face. "Oh shit, I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No. Happy tears," she said, her lips curling into a smile. "They're happy tears."

I didn't quite understand what had happened, but as she pressed herself against my chest I pulled her close, glad to not have ruined things.

After a few seconds she broke awa

y, trying in vain to wipe the redness from her eyes. "Anyway, we should keep moving or we're going to miss the film."

Despite my passion for movies, it had been forever since I'd actually gone to a theater. Crowds, noise, you know the drill. Normally the thought set my pulse racing, but after dinner had gone so well, I was feeling cautiously optimistic. We both love comedies, and there was a new Will Ferrel film playing that looked hilarious. We spent the rest of the walk quoting Anchorman and discussing which of the two of us, in fact, loved lamp more.