Amazing Grace (12 page)

Linn takes our cups and makes herself scarce. I should do the same, but I'm too damn nosy.

Melissa sighs. “Don't be all stiff with each other. I thought you were here for me.”

“What's the plan, people?” I ask.

“Melissa will have to live with me. There's no other solution. I don't want her anywhere near this neighbourhood.”

“But not forever,” Jonathan reminds her.

“This is the scene of the crime, darling. Do you want her here after what she's just told you? It's either let her live with me full-time or you relocate and get out of this part of Manhattan altogether.”

“It's not quite as easy as you make it seem.”

Deanne sighs. “Jonathan, dear, you always panic. It is that easy. You get a realtor to find you another apartment and you sell this one. You get a moving company to pack up your stuff and unload it. Linn will be with you to supervise. Problem solved.”

I remind him of something. “There aren't a lot of good memories here. I'll help you.”

“Help me?”

“I'll stay and help you move. I'm sure Linn could use a hand.”

He puts his hand through his hair. “Moving every time there's a problem is not a solution.”

“But it's the only one that makes sense for this particular situation, and you're wealthy enough to make it happen,” I remind him. “Use that to your advantage.”

Melissa shakes her head. “Doesn't matter where I go. The kids at the new school only have to Google my name and it starts all over again.”

That hadn't occurred to me. I'm not familiar with the insidious world of the Internet.

Her mother is a little more savvy. “You get off Facebook, get off Instagram and Tumblr and Twitter, delete all your accounts and your pictures along with them. Even if your name is on those terrible pictures, no one will be able to connect them to you. And if they do find you, you have no idea what they're saying, so their power is gone.”

“It won't be too hard to have Kurt's accounts suspended, or those pictures taken down. You're still a child, after all. I'll get my lawyers on it. But I hope this a wake-up call, Melissa,” her father says. “You do have some responsibility in this. Poor judgement, in fact.”

“I know that, Dad! Geez.”

She huffs off, like kids do when they know their parents are right but they don't want to hear about it.

“You're doing the right thing,” I tell them. “Melissa sees that you two are together in this and that's a huge relief. She's had a rough time since the divorce. It's tough for kids to watch their parents break up.”

“There she goes again, doling out advice about parenting.” Jonathan leaves the room.

I look at Deanne. “I can't win.”

Deanne sits down in the stool vacated by Linn. “Jonathan's always going to blame you for everything. He's like a broken record.”

“He needs help, and I'm hoping to use this opportunity to mend a few fences. I understand his grandfather is still controlling his life?”

“You have no idea. To tell you the truth, if that old man was out of the picture, I think Jonathan and I would've had a chance together, but he's like an evil poison and I couldn't take it anymore.”

“I know all about it.”

The next day Jonathan hugs Melissa, says he'll see her soon, and goes to work. An hour later Deanne and her new husband come by to help lug Melissa's stuff to their place.

“Grace, this is my husband, Andre.”

I shake his well-groomed hand. He has this European vibe going on. I wonder if his name is really Andrew. “Nice to meet you.”

“Enchanted. I've heard a lot about you. I'm so happy Melissa is going to be with us for the foreseeable future.”

Complete hogwash, but he's doing his best. Melissa makes a face behind his back.

Andre turns out to be a great help, since he's the one carting her belongings to the car. It's like excavating a tomb. There are layers to get through. We're not moving her furniture, just her clothes, jewellery, toiletries, and a box full of hair dryers, curling irons, flat irons, hot rollers, and hair pieces. Hair pieces! I'd love to say something about this ridiculous stockpile, but I keep my big mouth shut—just looking at Deanne, I can tell her bedroom is exactly the same. I'll have the makeup table shipped to Deanne's address.

Melissa hugs Linn and me goodbye.

“Will you come over?” she asks me.

“Of course. I'd like to see your new digs.”

“The door is always open, Grace. Thank you for everything.” Deanne gives me a very sincere hug. I know she appreciates my support. And the fact that I didn't give her an earful about her benign neglect of Melissa while she was swooning over Andre. Deanne's had a scare and she's a smart girl. She won't let it happen again.

Even Andre hugs me. “You are welcome anytime.”

I like this kid.

Jonathan avoids me for the first couple of nights, and I stay out of his way. Perhaps it's better if this conversation starts spontaneously. I'm nervous about it. I'll have to wait and see. He's at work all day of course, and Linn and I rattle around. We've become fast friends. She even asks me if I'd like to meet her sister's family. So off we go one afternoon to New Jersey. We have a great time, and the food! Bowls and bowls of the most delicious concoctions with vats of steamed rice, all of it on a circular Lazy Susan in the middle of the table. I'm in heaven. I even take pictures of the feast. It's times like this that I wish I'd travelled more. The world and its diverse cultures have so much to offer.

Christmas is only two weeks away, and New York City is quite a spectacle of lights and holiday cheer. Linn and I take a walk the next afternoon just to see the sights. There is something mesmerizing about the energy in this city, and while I can appreciate it, I find it very tiring now. Once upon a time it had me in its thrall, but that was a long time ago.

Linn points ahead to a corner shop. “I buy lotto tickets. Maybe get rich.”

“Good idea there, Linn. I'll get some too.”

We're in this tiny store that is stuffed to the rafters. You can get anything in here. While we wait our turn at the cash register, Linn tugs on my arm. “Over there is Kurt. I recognize him. He came to house a few time.”

I look over and oh yes, central casting couldn't have done a better job. He's got perfectly highlighted and messed-up hair under his ball cap, which is turned to the side, with his jeans belted halfway down his ass and a quilted jacket over his hoodie. He's on his cell, showing his friends something, and they're busting a gut. Doesn't he think he's God's gift to the world? Even Devon didn't stink this bad.

I pull Linn out of the lineup and give her my phone. “Do you know how to take a video with this?”

“Uhh…”

Quickly, I show her the button. “Just keep the camera on me. I'm going to do something and I want it recorded for posterity.”

She smiles. “Yes. Yes.”

I go over to the slushy machine and fill an extra-extra-large plastic cup of blue slightly frozen water. Now I go into my feeble routine. I'm perfectly placed when I just happen to trip over my own big feet, sending a gallon of slush into the air and completely drenching my horrified victim and ruining his oh so lovely face, hair, phone, clothes, and gigantic running shoes.

“Oh my God! I'm so sorry! I don't know how that happened! Are you all right?” I reach over and wipe his chest with vigorous strokes, hopefully smooshing the coloured slush into his jacket permanently.

“Get the fuck off me, lady!” He brushes me away but I'm hard to get rid of. I keep mauling him.

“I feel so bad! Is there anything I can do?” I yell over to the cashier. “Do you have any paper towels I can use?”

Now everyone in the store turns around and stares at our blue boy. He's mortified.

“He needs help!”

“Stay away from me, you crazy-ass bitch!” Out of the store he storms with his entourage glaring at me.

Linn is rolling. She gives me a thumbs up.

When Jonathan gets home it's the first thing we show him. He smiles and shakes his head. “Only you could pull this off. And using my poor housekeeper as your accomplice.”

“So fun!” Linn says.

The next day is Sunday and Linn departs to visit her sister. That means Jonathan and I are alone in this place, which makes my stomach upset.

I show up at his study door. “Could I talk to you?”

He picks up a handful of paper off his desk. “I'm trying to find a new apartment. Isn't that what you wanted?”

This study is too cold and unwelcoming. I need a better place. “Could you come into my room with me? I've made us some coffee.”

“Your room?”

“I want to sit on the bed and you can sit in that very nice armchair that I'm sure has never been sat on before.”

“You drive me crazy with remarks like that.”

“You're right. I've got a big mouth. But please humour me.”

When he sighs and reluctantly gets out of his chair, he is identical to Melissa. He's just this big kid wearing a grown-up suit. A big lost kid.

We settle ourselves and he sips the coffee to humour me. I gulp mine.

“Jonathan, I owe you the truth.”

“What truth? Your truth? Why did you never tell me what happened at the compound? You told me your mother and sister left you, but nothing else. I had to hear it from Melissa.”

“It was painful. You'd been through enough. But right now there's a lot more you need to know. I owe you the truth about your dad.”

“Okay. Do I want to know the truth about my dad?”

“How can anyone move forward without putting the past to rest? And I think you, and me, and your father need some peace.”

CHAPTER TEN

THEN

The first time I meet Fletcher officially is the summer after my Aunt Mae's death. I've been accepted at Dalhousie University for September and I know Aunt Pearl would have been pleased. My neighbour Bruce Samuels says he'll keep an eye on the house, but I'm worried about my aunts' car. I don't want to be responsible for it in Halifax, seeing as how I'm living in residence and the bus is readily available. And yet they loved it so much, I don't want to sell it. I happen to mention it to someone at the post office and he said I should speak to Fletcher Parsons.

“Oh yes, I've heard of him. He's up on the hill with all the cars in the yard. They say he's very good.”

“He's the Muhammad Ali of mechanics.”

I'm still chuckling when I drive my Pontiac into Fletcher Parsons's yard and get out to see if he's around. A dog and a couple of cats are hanging about but they don't bother with me. Just lift their heads to see if it's anyone important, then go back to their siestas.

“Hello? Anybody here?”

There's the sound of a drill coming from the garage so I go over and peek in. There's this big husky guy with grease smudges on his face and hands doing something noisy. I wait until he stops and then shout, “Hello!”

I scare the life out of him.

“Jumpin' Mary! I didn't see ya there.” He takes a rag out of his back pocket and approaches me, wiping his hands as he comes. “What can I do for you?”

“Fletcher?”

“That's me.”

“I hear you know cars.”

“Don't know much else, but I do know cars.”

“What should I do with this one?” I point behind me.

He takes one look at it and gives me a great smile. “Now that's a car. Bumper needs work, though.”

“I'm leaving for Halifax and can't take it with me, but I don't want to sell it either. Do you know if I could store it somewhere? A man at the post office said I should ask you.”

“Well now, there's a few places, but they charge too much if you ask me. You don't know anyone who could store it in their garage for a time?”

“No. My aunt died and I have no one else, so I'm kind of desperate.”

“I'm truly sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you.”

He looks around. “Well, I'm not saying it's the cleanest place in the world, but you see that old barn in the back up there? I use it to store an assortment of car parts and whatnot, but if I move a few things around, you could put it there and I'd keep an eye on it for you. I'd cover it up of course.”

“I didn't mean for you—”

“I know you didn't, but the space is there and you're more than welcome to use it. How long will you be gone?”

“I don't know.”

“Never mind. Makes no difference.”

“Are you always this nice?”

He throws back his head and laughs. “Don't know about that. Critters seem to like me.”

I offer to help him move the stuff in his barn, but he says he'll be fine. I give him the keys and we look at each other.

“Well, see ya, then. Thanks so much.”

“You're welcome.”

I turn around to walk back to the car and stop. “What am I doing? Now I don't have a car.”

“I was wondering when you were going to figure that out,” he grins. “Why don't you keep the car until you leave and I can drop you off at the bus station when the time comes.” He hands me back the keys.

“You see? You're so nice.”

“Just one thing.”

“What's that?”

“Your name?”

“Amazing Grace Fairchild.”

“That's a name I'll remember.”

My days at university are a jumbled mix of shock, boredom, and fascination. I'm in a residence with girls my age, but I am light years away from them in life experience. My first roommate is insane. All she does is blubber if things don't go her way. That's when Daddy sends her money, or talks to her prof so she won't fail her course, and Mommy comes in every few days with her favourite meals since the cafeteria food is “disgusting.”

I love the food here.

When I simply can't stand it any longer I see the Dean of Women at the residence and ask for another room. She's a middle-aged woman in a trim blouse and skirt. She hasn't taken her eyes off me since I've come into the room, but I don't think she's listening to me.

“What's your last name?”

“Fairchild.”

She hits the desk with her fist. “I knew it! You're related to Pearl Fairchild, aren't you?”

It gives me a momentary jolt to hear Aunt Pearl's name. “Yes, she was my great-aunt.”

“She's died, then?”

“Yes.”

“That's too bad. She was the smartest woman I ever knew. Pearl was the one who encouraged me to go to university. I'm so pleased you're here. You have her mannerisms. Even the way you sit in your chair. Well, well. Pearl Fairchild. What a woman.”

My request is granted. I'm given a room in Old Eddy, in the basement. There's not many rooms down here. It's rather shabby and forgotten. Most of the girls here are black. I wonder if that's a coincidence.

We become pals and I spend my evenings in their rooms, watching them put oil in their hair before bed. What a production. They tease me about being white and having an easier time of it. I assure them straight hair is just as problematic.

The day I'll never forget that year, is when one of my black friends gives me the rest of her can of Coke. I take it back to my room and ask my roommate if she wants a sip. She asks me where I got it, since Coke is a luxury, and I tell her Judith gave it to me. She refuses to drink from the can and tells me to throw it out.

I never speak to my roommate again.

Fortunately, the one thing I love is the learning. I read everything, and devour facts and ideas like they're Aunt Mae's ginger cookies. My professors love me and the feeling is mutual.

One professor in particular. Mr. Roman teaches my psychology class. The man is undeniably handsome, but it's his confidence that envelopes me and makes me feel like I'll be special, too, one day.

Our assignment is to re-enact the Second World War. Our class of one hundred is divided into countries and there are two or three trailers out behind the psych building that house the seats of our collective governments. Armed with knowledge about events after the First World War, we are given the task of trying to avoid another world war. All of us are certain that we'll stop the war entirely, since we're young, war is horrific, and we know better. We'll show them.

Our World War Two starts five years earlier. None of us can agree on anything and there are bullies on each team who refuse to budge from their almighty principles. Not to mention the guys shouting over the girls, because they're so damn important and what do we know anyway.

I'm close to hitting the emperor of Japan before I realize I need to retreat behind one of the trailers to cool down. As I reach for my matches to light a cigarette, Mr. Roman approaches and lights one for each of us.

“So what do you think, Miss Fairchild?” He blows smoke above my head. “What did you learn today?”

“That men are idiots.”

He laughs. “You are a delightful creature, so different from the others.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I look at you I see truth. You don't hide behind bullshit.”

“Then I have a recommendation for your experiment. Divide it by sex and see what happens. My bet is the women will win every time.”

He looks impressed and nods his head. “I think we should discuss this over lunch.”

Lunch leads to more lunch and then dinners, and inevitably breakfasts.

I have a secret now, and I hold it to my chest like a gemstone. The great Professor Philip Roman is in love with me. He picked me out of all the girls on campus. An educated man who listens to every word I say. He tells me I'm smart and impossibly beautiful.

Now I understand love-making. It's supposed to make you feel good, not bad. We meet in his small apartment when he can get away.

“Maybe we could go to dinner sometime. Or a movie.” I'm naked on the bed, in the crook of his arm, smoking a cigarette.

He takes a drag on his and pulls his fingers through my hair. “I want you all to myself. I can't bear to share you with anyone.”

That's all he ever says. I sit up, annoyed. “At some point, we have to go outside.”

Mr. Roman gives me a big sigh. “Do I really have to say this, Grace? I'm your prof. It would be bad form if people knew I was dating a student.”

“If you knew that, why are you here with me? What kind of relationship is this? Are you ashamed of me?”

“Darling girl.” He stubs out his cigarette and then grabs mine and flattens that as well. “Come here.”

This always happens. He makes love to me and I'm helpless against him. Despite my annoyance, he's like a drug. All my life I've run away from men and now I'm rushing towards one. Philip makes me feel wanted, like I have someone I can count on. These are the best days of my life. I have friends at the dorm, my boyfriend, and great classes. Everything is working out very nicely, for once in my pitiful life.

And it gets better. I'm in social studies class, in the back of the room with my head beside the open window.

The guy next to me says, “Got a headache?”

I turn to him. “Yeah. How did you know?”

“My whole life is a headache. I can spot one a mile off.” He grins and takes out a small aspirin tin from his pocket and offers it to me. “Take two.”

I swallow the pills with a gulp of Pepsi. “Thanks…what's your name?”

“Aaron. Aaron Willingdon.”

“Thanks, Aaron. I'm Grace.”

“No, you're not. You're Amazing.”

Now I'm suspicious. “Okay, how do you know that?”

His brown eyes crinkle at the corners and dimples bracket his mouth. “I'm a spy. No, a friend told me. One of your cohorts from Old Eddy. Judith Reddick.”

“I love Judith.”

We're still chatting when a TA we've never seen before walks into the room. She doesn't look much older than us, with her checkered bell-bottoms and bandana on her head. She proceeds to sit in the swivel chair behind the desk in the front of the room.

“I'm your substitute for the day. Open your books.”

We dutifully open our textbooks and wait for further instructions, but that's it. She spends the entire time spinning in the chair.

Aaron leans over. “Lucy is in the sky with diamonds, I fear.”

At first we smirk, then laugh and look at each other, wondering what we should do, but after a while it gets ridiculous. Aaron stands up, and he's very tall. I'm not sure how he fit under the desk. He says loudly, “Well, comrades, I say we make a break for it.”

He grabs my hand. “Let's get some coffee.”

The entire class follows our lead. For all I know she's still spinning.

Aaron and I head to a small coffee shop off campus. It never occurs to me to be worried about going anywhere with him. He has this big brother kind of feel. We settle in with our coffee and danishes.

“So tell me about yourself,” he says. “You have a wicked look about you.”

“Oh, I have the devil in me. Someone told me that once.”

“I look at your big hazel eyes and auburn hair and see only angels flying here and there…through the air…a girl so fair…without a care…”

“I love corny people,” I smile.

“Then you'll be enthralled with me.”

Aaron and I become fast friends. He just gets me. I find myself telling him about the compound, something I never thought I'd do, but Aaron makes me feel safe. Even when I tell him terrible stuff, he never flinches. He will keep my secrets.

But after a while I notice that he doesn't say much about himself, or he'll change the subject when I ask him a question. It's annoying, but I can't stay mad at him. He'll make a goofy face or buy me a popsicle, or make me ride on the handlebars of his bike, both of us shouting at people to warn them, as we zigzag down the sidewalk.

After a crazy session in bed one afternoon with Philip, I ask my psychology expert how to get someone to talk.

“If they don't want to talk, it's damn near impossible. You could torture them I suppose, but somehow that doesn't strike me as your style.” He kisses my hair. “Who is this person you want to know so much about?”

“Just a friend.”

“A girlfriend.”

“No.”

He looks down at me from above. “Are you seeing someone behind my back, you wanton woman?”

“He's a friend.”

“You tell your friend to keep his hands off. You're my property.”

“I'm nobody's property.” I push him away and get off the bed, grabbing my clothes off the floor.

“Grace! I'm kidding!”

“I have to go.”

The next day a bouquet of red roses arrives at the dorm for me, with a small card. “I'm sorry. I love you. P.”

I've never had a man give me flowers before. I show them to Judith.

“You got it goin' on, girl. You better find me a man like that.”

With all the distractions in my private life, my grades suffer for the first time since before my aunts found me. Aunt Pearl would have had a fit, and I feel like I'm letting her down. I can't jump every time Philip wants me to meet him. Even Aaron takes up a lot of my time with his wonderful goofiness. I'm not sure when he goes to class. He makes me laugh like no one else, but I'm still no closer to figuring him out.

We are weeks away from dispersing for the summer, my first year over. What to do with myself weighs heavy. Getting a temporary job and leasing an apartment for a couple of months is imperative, but what do I want to be when I finish university? The thought of going to classes forever seems preferable to making a decision. So far nothing has reached out and grabbed me by the throat. Some of the girls know already that they want to be pharmacists or doctors or lawyers, although the vast majority are hoping to snag a guy before it's too late.