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“You’d better stay out here,” Je
He nodded, taking up position against the opposite wall. Leaning back, he crossed his booted feet at the ankles and his arms over his chest.
“I’ll keep an eye out for cops… or cheating ex-boyfriends,” he said, proving that their minds had been ru
Je
But as soon as she got to the end of the short foyer, which opened to encompass a kitchen on one side and a giant open living area on the other, she realized that the normally messy room now looked as though a tsunami had hit it. Twice.
The living room was in shambles. Clothes were strewn everywhere. Cushions were missing from the sofa. Cords were yanked loose from the television, DVD player, Playstation, stereo, and everything else that required electricity to run. Zack’s abundant and cherished hockey trophies were knocked off their display shelves. A few were broken, and one… one was rather creatively rammed head-first into the wall. A definite forfeit of his security deposit.
Making her way to the bedroom, she found Ro
Grace sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, photo albums and newspaper clippings spread all around her. Obviously she’d settled down somewhat. Or rather, she’d shifted from ranting and raving to quiet and dogged personal devastation.
Because in her right hand, she held a pair of scissors with bright red handles, and was using them to thoroughly and methodically cut the photos and newspaper clippings surrounding her into tiny, unidentifiable slivers.
Her face was streaked with tears and lines of what was probably supposed to be waterproof mascara. Her hair was a blond rat’s nest, frizzy in some places, pulled straight in others. She looked like she’d been, quite literally, through the wringer.
“I tried to stop her,” Ro
“I won’t be sorry,” Grace insisted, not bothering to lift her gaze from her current project. “I could never be sorry. Zack is the one who’s going to be sorry.”
With that, she jumped up, grabbed an armful of the scrapbooks and paper fragments from the bedspread, and headed for the French doors overlooking a small balcony. Through the doors she went, night breeze ruffling the curtains behind her as she marched to the iron railing and pitched the records of all Zack’s sporting achievements into the street.
Some of it floated gently downward like feathers. The rest fell and landed with a resounding thunk. Je
“Grace, sweetie,” she said softly as the other woman came back into the room. “Let Ro
“I don’t want to talk. I want to hurt him.”
Grace rushed across the plushly carpeted floor, throwing open the closet doors and yanking garments one by one off of their hangers. Casual shirts and slacks, suits, hockey jerseys, a tuxedo… she piled up as much as she could carry and stormed back across the room, tossing everything over the railing to join the rest of Zack’s belongings on the street.
This was getting out of control. If they didn’t stop her soon the cops really would be called, and Grace would likely be hauled away for destruction of property, littering, and breaking and entering, among other things.
On Grace’s next trip inside, Je
As intended, the query drew Grace to a halt in the center of the room. Blond curls floated around her face as she turned on Je
“Are you taking his side?” she demanded. “Do you think I’m making this up?”
If Je
“Of course not,” she replied evenly, hoping to bring Grace’s level of rage down just a notch. “But I wasn’t there, so I don’t really know what happened. Can you fill me in?”
Behind Grace, Ro
“He’s a lying, cheating bastard,” Grace spat. But she didn’t move closer to the closet or back toward the balcony. “I went there to surprise him. Ro
Anger tinged her words, but there was sadness there, too, and her eyes glistened with tears. “She was in his bed, half naked, and he was in the shower. What does that tell you?”
“That he’s a lying, cheating bastard,” Je
Grace blinked a few times, as though trying to follow the rapid switch in topics. No doubt she was so focused on her own misery that nothing else made much sense to her.
Je
For months, she’d walked around in a daze. She functioned, she communicated, she went to work and came home, went to her Wednesday-night knitting group and for drinks afterwards with her friends.
But the whole time, she’d felt removed from everyone and everything around her. Her entire focus, her every thought had been on Gage… how much she’d loved him, how much he’d disappointed her, the life they were supposed to have had together, and the life they now never would. Everything else was just white noise.
So she knew how Grace felt, knew what she was going through and the kinds of thoughts that were racing around in her brain.
She also knew that if she could just keep Grace distracted, she and Ro
“I’m sure Zack has something in the fridge. Help yourself,” Grace told her distractedly.
Je
It took a second for Grace to absorb what Je
“You’re right. Why am I even here?”
Behind her, Ro
“I’m better than this. I’m better than he is. He never deserved me.”
“No, he didn’t,” Je
“Let’s go somewhere else-your place or Ro
Grace shook her head. “I want to go home. I want to drink wine, and eat Oreos, and sleep until I’m old and gray.”
Both Je