Chapter 5
Grace
I’ve been job huntinglike crazy and still nothing. It’s hard to find another part-time gig like the one I lost two months ago that will allow me to continue as a full-time student. Then again, I might not be a student much longer.
Although I accepted an alternate payment plan option when I started school, things are still tight. I’ve been paying for school terms monthly rather than having to come up with a huge sum every semester, and it was fairly manageable with a part-time job.
Now that I’m unemployed and have missed a couple of payments, I’ll be dropped from classes soon. It’s my last year. I can’t afford that now. On the bright side, I’ve got a ride now. I never imagined Rowan was planning to loan me a car.
If I have to work at night or juggle multiple jobs with school, it’ll be much easier to get around. That’s why I ultimately accepted the car. Despite my pride, I knew it would help me out a lot.
“That’s right, Grace. Keep looking on the bright side.”
I let out a puff of frustration. Looking on the bright side would be a lot easier if I could get a good night’s sleep. I feel like a zombie trudging around with the few hours of sleep I get at night.
Shoving aside the laptop—another gift from Rowan— I flop back on the satin sectional. He thought of everything. There were tampons in the bathroom. I blushed so hard when I found them, I almost burst into flames.
“He bought me tampons,” I moan for the hundredth time since I happened upon them. On the bright side, maybe his girlfriend stacked the apartment, and she purchased all the lady stuff. So, I can stop wallowing in embarrassment. Rowan must have a girlfriend. I frown. Screw that. That side isn’t so bright because now I’m jealous as hell.
Throwing my head back, I let out a frustrated growl. “I need to stop this and focus on getting my life together.” Rowan made it clear that he isn’t interested. Two days later, it still stings.
Sighing, I reach for the laptop again. When I grasp it, pain stabs my palm. “Arg! Damn it.” I keep forgetting about the blister. Cradling my right hand, I can’t help seeing myself yanking the door open at my old apartment and staring at the raging flames in the hallway. And now I’m back to the harrowing memories.
Focusing on anything else is hopeless for now. I consider calling Ashley to chat, but she’s probably in class. There’s no one else except...
“No.”
Calling my mother isn’t a great idea. Not in my current emotional state. But as I stare at the phone, I can’t help feeling like her attitude will be different. I almost died in a fire. Surely, she’ll be on my side for once, if even just to give a few comforting words.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab my phone and dial Mom’s number. I don’t even have it saved in my new phone. It rings a few times before a confused “Hello?” sounds.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Grace? Did you change your number?”
I scratch my forehead. Mom and I have never had a close bond, so it always feels a little awkward at the beginning of phone conversations. “Yeah. How’s it going?” I close my eyes. How’s it going? I sound like I’m talking to a new acquaintance.
“It’s going. It’s the middle of the day, shouldn’t you be in class?”
“I’ve taken a little time off.” I’m miffed that she hasn’t asked me how I’m doing yet. That would give me the opening to share what happened.
“Time off? You’re studying art. How hard can it be? Why do you need time off?”
I close my eyes and pull in a deep breath. Okay, I see the problem with my foolish optimism now. Why did I think this conversation would go differently? “Art History,” I bite out. “I’m pursuing a degree in Art History.”
Mom and Dad frown upon my choice of study. It’s like they think all I do in classes is finger paint.
Before Mom can make me feel any lower, I blurt out, “And I’m taking time off because I almost died.” I pull in a deep breath and dig deep for my composure. “I mean... I was in a fire last week. It was bad. I lost everything.”
“Grace, that’s horrible.”
I sit taller, relieved by the sliver of concern I hear. “It was—”
“If you’re calling for money, we can’t help you. Isabelle’s wedding is coming up and—”
My hope deflates and is trampled into the ground. I roll my eyes. The entire world knows about my sister’s approaching wedding. She posts about it enough on social media. And she’s yet to invite me. Not that I’m eager to attend.
“That’s not why I’m calling. I don’t want money. I’m... fine.” I almost choke on my disappointment at her reaction.
“Oh. Good. You know, if you’d listened to your father and me—”
“Mom, I have to go.” If I don’t interrupt, the I told you so speech will bring me to tears. Typically, it doesn’t, but I’m near a breaking point right now. “Tell Dad I said hi... if you remember. Bye.”
I hang up and drop the phone on the couch. Hitting my left palm against my forehead, I hiss, “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Why would I do that to myself?
Mom just stifled my spirit in one minute of conversation. Is she right? If I’d stayed home and subjected myself to the life they wanted me to live—like my dutiful, airhead sister—would I be better off?
Maybe making it on my own isn’t going to work. I mean, I’m back to square one after years of pushing myself. Annoyed with myself for allowing Mom to get into my head so easily, I get up and aim for the door. I leave my phone, bringing only the key to the apartment. I need to go for a walk and blow off steam, and I don’t want to hear from anyone.