Between Octobers Bk 1, Savor The Days Series (2 page)

I took my morning run on the treadmill,
setting the machine at the steepest incline, and ran until my legs
went numb. When I walked into my giant closet after a shower, Sol’s
clothes glared at me from under a thin coating of dust.

New leaf
, I
reminded myself, and pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind. It
was easier to dwell with a shovel. If my shoulders weren’t so sore,
I would’ve been outside working on the hole for the pool. The area
was originally chosen for a gazebo, but leveling the ground was
more difficult than I thought. By the time I stepped back to survey
the damage, I was a solid three feet into the dirt. So, I kept
going. The boys liked the idea of a pool.

Stretching the slump from my spine, I
continued towards the kitchen for coffee. More liquid
motivation.

My sister-in-law and best friend, Lily,
arrived and entered without knocking. I made a call for
reinforcements the night before—technically, it was a text
message—and a solid back-up plan.

“Grace! Help!” She squealed, as the
unbalanced stack of boxes flew to the floor.

Surprisingly, I almost giggled. “Are you
sure you got enough?” I teased, stooping into the formal living
room to help her restack. There must have been a dozen.

“I’m going to keep everything you don’t
want.” Her shining brown eyes matched her older brothers
exactly.

Lily was my closest—more accurate,
only—friend. Best friend since the day we met. First day of eighth
grade, fourth period Home Economics. She wanted to be my kitchen
partner because she overheard me telling the teacher I already had
a year of Home Ec at my old middle school in Bothell, a rinky-dink
town outside Seattle where I grew up. I knew how to cook; all two
of the women in my family did. Mom started teaching me as soon as I
was old enough to reach the stove, and Aunt Rose picked up where
she left off. I was trying to get out of the class and Lily wanted
an easy A. After class, she ate lunch with me so I wouldn’t have to
sit alone. I wouldn’t have gotten through that first day of school,
let alone the past year, without her.

Getting started is the
hardest part,
I told myself, tugging at several shirt
sleeves before mustering the strength to remove one. It reminded me
too much of my parents. The way I had to take down and fold their
clothes. So neatly and carefully. My big brother, Ronnie, was with
me that day; Aunt Rose, too. Now, Sol’s sister was helping. With
Lily there, it was easier to remember the moments triggered by his
belongings. Memorabilia.

When I packed up my parents’ things, it was
only a few days after my dad fell asleep driving, and right after
they were cremated—before I developed the urge to cling. Mom’s only
sister, Aunt Rose, happened to be visiting at the time. She was
watching us that night they didn’t come home. She made the
arrangements to have them laid to rest in Fresno—the place my
brother and I were moving to. We didn’t just pack up their clothes,
we packed our house. It wasn’t just a goodbye to my parents; it was
a farewell to childhood, to life as I knew it. My security.

My mom and dad were good people. They
raised me and Ronnie in the Bible-believing church of the South by
way of the Pacific Northwest. My father was the son of a Baptist
minister and my mother came from a long line of Pentecostals. They
used to drag me and my big brother to every gathering, meeting, and
event our church took part in. The church body was small and my
parents took their Christian Duty very seriously. My brother and I
attended every Sunday morning and evening service, every
foot-washing ceremony, baptism, all-night prayer meeting, picnic,
play, potluck and Bible study . . . no matter what.
There is no good reason to miss church,
Mom used to say. If I was sick, I could get healed; if I was
tired, God would wake me; if I did not want to go, I had to pray
for desire. I bet we went eight times a week. When I grew up,
attendance often felt like punishment, but I still
believed.

As we cleared away Sol’s belongings, Lily
got nearly everything she asked for. The only things I held back
were of too much sentimental value to part with. One being a pale
pink dress shirt I bought Sol on his last birthday.

“He hated pink on guys.” Lily held the
delicate fabric of the long sleeve between her fingers, rubbing it
gently as I set it back on the hanger.

“I had to beg him to try it on,” I
remembered. “When he finally did, he looked in the mirror and said,
‘You’re right, Grace. It is a nice shirt.’ It was one of the only
times he ever admitted he was wrong.” I wiped the tears away with
the back of my hand and felt an honest smile on my face.

“Yeah, he was never wrong as far as he was
concerned.” Her eyes shone as she chuckled.

The other mementos I insisted on keeping
were Sol’s old sports equipment, concert memorabilia, his guitar
and saxophone. Those were going into the guest-slash-music room for
the kids. I let Lily take the high school yearbooks and letterman
jacket to give to Maria. I knew she would want those. There were
also several shoe boxes of family photos we’d accumulated, only the
ones of him in double print. She and Maria could fight over who got
what amongst themselves.

Lily folded the cardboard flaps down one at
a time, tucking them in on themselves.

I sighed, looking around the half-empty
closet. “I think we’re done.”

It was a sad and rewarding moment, staring
at the lopsided arrangement. The end of an era. My stomach lurched.
Dr. Lena, as I call her, gave explicit instructions to fill the
empty space because the visual emptiness could be
counter-productive. I quickly reached for some hangers on my side
of the closet and placed them in the opposite end. The recollection
sparked a reminder of my second homework assignment.

Helping to carry two of four boxes, I lagged
behind Lily. “I wish you could stay longer,” I whined.

She loaded up the trunk of her lemon-yellow
Beamer. “I’ll come back tomorrow. You can cook me dinner.” She
chirped. “Hey, Dr. Pataki approved my vacation time. In one more
week, I have a whole week off.” She checked her cell phone for the
time. “See you tomorrow?”

“Want to go out for a drink or
something?”

Her brows pulled together. “You want to go
out?”

I nodded.

Her eyes suddenly brightened. “Absolutely,
but why?”

“Homework.” Dr. Lena and I discussed me
packing Sol’s things last month. When I saw her the last Friday
morning, she’d urged me to catch up.

“Because of Wednesday?”

“Probably.”

“Geez, a whole year already,” she marveled
under her breath, touching her lips with her fingertips.

“Pick me up at seven-thirty?”

“Seven-thirty, it is.” Lily climbed into the
driver’s seat.

I watched her little yellow car speed away
until it disappeared down the hill, trying not to think about what
we’d do or where we’d go. I never really liked wearing dresses, but
Lily always did. I was positive she’d take the opportunity to shove
me into one.

The afternoon passed quickly because I spent
it in the back yard, digging the pool. Essentially using the shovel
as pick-axe because the dirt was too hard and cold. The yard work
helped keep my mind off my troubles, but fall was upon us and I
needed to be reasonable. It was going to take professional help to
get the hole finished and the pool completed before the rainy
weather turned it into a mud pit. The installation of sophisticated
water filtration and heating-related equipment was beyond my
abilities, anyway.

Before setting the table, I made a quick
call to Larry, Sol’s old business partner at the construction
company he owned. Larry agreed to help me find someone to finish
the job.

Dinner was a quiet meal. Spaghetti with
meatballs and electronics. Noah was on his phone, Caleb had his
Game Boy, and I was compiling a list of all the things that needed
to get done before my night out. Right at the top of that list I
wrote, ‘wax legs.’ I hadn’t been out anywhere in forever and didn’t
really want to get dressed up to go sit in some dingy L.A. club.
But much more than that, I didn’t want to bicker about it or listen
to Lily complain about my hairy ways. A preemptive surrender was in
order, by way of waxing.

In the dark night, as I laid in my lonely
bed, I prayed for strength to do the things I’d been avoiding. I
made a promise to myself that I’d do whatever it took. I would be
the driver and not the passenger of my life. I would transfer the
attention from myself onto others. I would stop asking myself how I
felt about my problems and start remembering I was not the only
person in the world who had them.

Santa Monica was beautiful in the fall. The
sky overhead was clear and blue, despite the biting cold that
drifted in from the ocean. As I sat on the frigid patio chair,
wrapped tightly in my robe, I could see through the slats of the
wooden fence into the field behind the house. The hillside was
covered in a blanket of purple blooming weeds. I finished my coffee
and headed back inside for my morning run.

I was motivated. Begging for real change. It
felt like a red letter day, as Mom used to say.

When my heart rate hit the target range, I
let my mind go blank and ran to the rhythm of my music. Fifteen
minutes in, inspiration struck. I hopped off the treadmill and into
my Jeep, heading for the pharmacy down the road.

When I returned, the house was still silent.
I looked in on the boys before setting up in the master bathroom.
After yanking on a pair of latex gloves, I started mixing. My
naturally blond hair wasn’t a pretty gold or bright yellow, it was
the dirty-looking, dishwater tone. I always hated it and Sol
didn’t. But he wasn’t here anymore. He’d died and left me all
alone. I had to start over. I brushed out my hair and began
applying the dark goo. When my head was thoroughly saturated, I
used an old mascara brush to add a coat to my eyebrows.

The day slipped away. I kept busy washing,
scrubbing, and in most places disinfecting, the entire house.
After, I finished the grocery shopping and made chicken parmesan
for an early dinner. The kids noticed my dark red locks as soon as
they got up, but hadn’t said much about the dramatic change. I’m
not sure if they liked it.

True to form, Lily showed up an hour early
to dress me. She was decked in a tight, coral mini dress that
beautifully accentuated her caramel skin. She’d straightened the
natural curls from her hair. It was hanging silkily down her back.
Her makeup was flawless as always—smoky eyes and nearly nude lips.
The most envious part, aside from her effortless hourglass shape,
was her thigh-high boots.

I complimented them, leaning against the
door frame, pathetically posing, begging her to say something about
my hair.

She gasped, “It looks so good!”

“You think so?” I loved the new color, but
knowing Lily approved made me love it even more.

She rushed in, quickly kissing the boys
hello on her way to the master closet. I sat at my vanity, watching
as she combed through the racks for at least twenty minutes,
searching for the perfect outfit.

“What do you think of this?” She held a very
short red dress.

“I could wear some slacks and a cute top,” I
pleaded. “I don’t like that shade of red. It makes me look
green.”

“Your hair is red.”

“It’s burgundy.”

“Maybe you’re right. Overkill . . . hmm . .
. Where’s your LBD?”

“My what?” I ask, picking at my chipped nail
polish.

“
Little Black Dress. You have one,
don’t you?”

“I have black dresses. I never gave any a
title, though. Check in the back corner.” I pointed in the general
direction, suppressing a yawn and wondering how many I’d have to
try on before she decided.

“I don’t see any.” She grunted, pushing and
pressing between bulges. “You need to move more stuff over. This is
ridiculous.” Murmuring a complaint, she lifted several hangers full
of dresses and sweaters, too heavy for Southern California, and
shifted them to the scantily clad opposite side of my closet.

“There.” She sighed the word, exaggerating a
wipe of imaginary sweat from her brow.

“There’s one, right there.” I pointed behind
her at the newly placed collection of hangers.

She yanked it down and bid me to try it on.
When I grudgingly slipped into the dress, I realized it was made of
stretch cotton. “Now I remember why I don’t wear this.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll fade when I wash it.”

Lily laughed, “A real clothing
conservationist. You know, you’re fighting their reason for
existing.”

In the full-length mirror, I checked each
angle. The fabric clung like a second skin, hugging my waist and
thighs and coming to a halt just below my knees. The modest
neckline led to three-quarter sleeves. The racy part was behind me.
I turned my naked back to the mirror.

“I have to change my bra.”

“You should wear it.” Lily took the chair at
my vanity.

“It isn’t too tight?” I hadn’t worn anything
that tight since high school. Even then, it was denim jeans,
covering my whole leg. The dress was tight everywhere. “I don’t
look like a slut, do I? The back makes me feel naked.”

“Grace, don’t over-think it. You have a
great body, show it off a little.” She smirked and shook her
head.

“I’m going to a place I’ve never been,
dressed in a way I’m not used to. I do not want to give off the
wrong impression.”

“Oh, honey, giving the wrong impression is
fun,” she sang, smiling brightly.

Lily was in full-on Barbie-play mode. After
dressing me, she sat me down and started pinning my hair into a
lovely chignon. Shoes were next—black platform heels she’d brought
from her house. Slipping into them, I kind of felt like
Frankenstein’s monster. There was no give in my stride, so it took
a few trips around the house to get a feel for them. I insisted on
wearing a pink wrap around my shoulders to cover my naked back. I
told Lily it was just in case I got cold, but she knew better.