Chapter 2

~ new mexico ~

Grace met Jack during her sophomore year in college at North Tome University. He was all height and length and smile. He knew the secrets to the world. His laugh grabbed her attention and held it; she was caught between terror and a sigh. Not her type, though. The ones she was attracted to were intellectual, quiet, newspaper-at-breakfast types who washed her in warm comfortable waves of stability. Most days though, she preferred to be alone. She could do so much without a man, why in the world would she want one? Sex was easy to come by, intimacy a waste of valuable time.

North Tome University, a collection of small schools within one organized unit, had about 1200 students on the rural campus at any given time. Most of them lived on campus in scattered dorms and group houses. The community was tight even though the students came from all over the Southwest and Midwest regions. North Tome was known for the J. Smith School of Agriculture and the Founder’s School of Liberal Arts. Those programs were nationally recognized by the Princeton Review. There was a very small Behavioral Sciences department that was recognized as well. Very few students conferred degrees in the sciences, but a small percentage left their mark on the Psychology Department. Jack was one of those few.

The first day Grace saw him, he was kicking a soccer ball with his friend in the quad talking loudly about Anders Gayle, his Abnormal Psych professor. Other students milled around, enjoying the cool autumn afternoon weather.

“The reason why Gayle can rant in front of his classes for hours on end is because he’s his own case study. Abnormal as they come.” He kicked the ball down the long grass through the makeshift goal. The ball careened through the opening between the backpacks. “Oh yeah, score!” Jack dropped to his knees and fell back, his body poised victorious.

“You’re just pissed ‘cause he calls you out on your bullshit theories of what is considered normal in society.” Aaron, Jack’s shadow and childhood best friend, chased the ball and tossed it back over his head.

“What can I say? I’m fucked up. But I’m not as fucked up as he is. He’s one loud dude. And he never stays still. I think twitching was a pre-req for his position,” he laughed.

“True. But you like to aggravate him – he’s a challenge to you.” Aaron dropped down to next to Jack.

Jack gave him a high five.

Grace watched him, shifting her eyes over the rough corners of her book. He looked harmless lying in that bucolic field. She felt delicious, excited to be spying on this man-boy who fluttered in her mind. She held her breath, needing to watch his next move, how he brushed his arm slowly back and forth along the grass. This was her moment of weakness. Her fate was almost palpable.

She sat there for a few more minutes noticing the cumulus clouds as they moved through the complicated sky, stringing dark gray strands across dusk’s dome. She felt quiet inside. A strong sense of peace had fallen over her.

Once, when she was nine, her aunt took her to the mall in Albuquerque to get her yearly pictures taken. Her dark brown hair was turned up at the ends; her blue eyes shone virtue. Aunt Gina had dressed her in green corduroys, her downy red and white sweater, and soft black boots. Gina wanted her to look pretty for the annual Christmas card. It was the last year that Gina could convince her to willingly participate.

Grace fidgeted in the waiting room, hoping her hair looked perfect and her clothes were ok. Gina told her to relax several times before her name was called. She was next.

When Grace sat down in front of the mottled gray picture screen, the lanky guy behind the camera told her to smile big and say “green cheese.” Something in his voice coaxed her guard down and her lips quickly curled upward. He smiled back, snapped the pictures, and told her that she was a graceful little lady.

“That’s my name,” she had said. “Grace.”

“And what a fitting name it is. Have a good day, Grace.” He smiled again.

She had felt effortless and beautiful in that one instant – like she hadn’t seen tragedy and she was a normal little girl. The ugliness in her heart was gone for just a second.

There in North Tome’s quad, watching Jack toy with the tops of the hayseed tendrils in the grass, she wasn’t far from that simple, 9-year-old feeling.

The breeze blew lightly, soft as a suggestion. Jack sat up and locked Grace in his stare. Her tranquility snapped. She was caught.

Jack didn’t get up right away. He held her gaze before rising languidly. He stretched, then slid toward her bench.

“Hi.”

Brown eyes.

“Hi.” Oh God, she thought. Did I just gulp?

“I’m Jack. Jack Esker.”

Nice voice. “Grace Aliano.”

“I know.”

Oh God. How did he know?

“We’re on the way to the SUB for dinner. Wanna join us?” Jack motioned toward the Student Union Building. Aaron rolled his eyes. It was almost completely dark now, past her usual dinner time.

Grace couldn’t find the words to decline. She stood, slow as the cool evening, and followed two steps behind Jack and Aaron.

The two guys talked and laughed throughout dinner, swallowing whole chunks of meatloaf and thick-skin mashed potatoes with dark brown gravy. She pushed her vegetables into the center of her plate, waiting for a flash of brilliance. She needed something to say – nothing forced, just something that fit into the conversation. Instead, she mentally compared herself to her unwanted mashed potatoes. She felt lumpy, like she didn’t belong. She was just begging to be sculpted into something better. She almost grinned at her lame analogy before carrying it a step further. If she was the mashed potatoes, Jack was the meatloaf. She supposed that would make Aaron a tasty side.

Grace stayed quiet. The guys cleaned their plates and picked at hers while talking about various weekend events. She knew of the parties, had planned to go to some with her friends. She willed herself to say something to be part of the conversation. Nothing came to mind.

Jack looked at her as he got up to leave. She grinned and waved goodbye to them, excused herself to the library to do homework. He touched her arm when they left. She sat there for another minute and decided to be bold, to follow and converse, to be part of something again.

The night was cold now. Stars glittered in the twilight. The moon already hung crescent shaped in the Eastern sky. It was past its prime this month and already waning.

She stayed in step with Jack. He encouraged her with questions as they crossed the campus. She answered simply at first, then in length. She was slow Tuesday jazz and he was her warm red raincoat.

Jack and Aaron’s dorm room smelled like fresh earth, dark wood and soap. To this day, the scent of a new bar of Ivory sends her back to that mild September evening when she was content to just sit there, listening to Jack pluck his guitar and sing in a whispery voice. By midnight, they had moved on to talk about the ways of the universe. Aaron had left, returned and finally turned out his lights around two in the morning. Jack lit candles, talked a little about his hometown and then asked for her life story. She gave him the usual – grew up in North Tome, lived with her Aunt Gina and Uncle Alfonso, decided to go to North Tome University for the excellent English and photography classes and the degree in liberal arts.

“Where are your parents?”

She surprised herself by not looking away. It was then she told him about the accident.

She was seven when it happened. Screeching tires, sirens, flashbulb pops of light. She hears the voices still though she can’t make out what they are saying. Grace closed her eyes and told him the about that fated night when her life changed and time had a new definition. Most people measured in months, years. Not Grace. Now, everything was either before the accident or after.

She stared up at his ceiling, careful to sidestep the well of emotion that threatened to overflow. She told it matter-of-factly. Her dad had yanked the wheel, but it was too late. Her mom had turned to face her, said it would be ok. Lina, Grace’s mother, had reached back and found Grace’s hand a split second before impact. There fingertips broke contact, hands were wrenched in opposite directions.

She remembered the startled screams. Who was screaming? Was it her mom? Grace didn’t realize until years later that she was the one who screamed until help arrived. She remembers the cool air, how it broke through the trees in sporadic bursts. It was angry, stilted. She looked around but only caught one glimpse of the aftermath. It was enough. She still sees their snapped and broken figures joined with cold black asphalt. She remembers nothing after that until Gina arrived with a fleece blanket and soothing words.

“That’s my story.” She didn’t meet his gaze.

Grace felt exhausted. She had just confessed her secret identity. She was unreliable – not to be trusted with the sanctity of life.

“The intersection is about 5 miles from here, in North Tome.” She thought that would help close the conversation. She needed to shut down now.

“Why didn’t you leave? You don’t have to see the source of your pain on a regular basis.” He thought he was employing good psychology now. He had a diagnosis, the cure was to leave.

“I can never leave. They’re here. New Mexico is home.”

He said nothing. Her eyes closed. Grace fell asleep on the overstuffed brown chair in the corner wearing Jack’s sweatshirt.