Selena Kitt - Grace

“I’m guessing from the look on your face that you didn’t know about those?”

Erica tossed them into the box, shaking her head. She was so tired of the lies, the pretending and hiding and keeping up appearances. But she was keeping secrets too, not telling Clay about his mother, about the fact that he was adopted, so how could she possibly judge?

Clay stood, putting his arms around her, pulling her close. He didn’t say anything, he just held her, and when Erica lifted her head to look into his eyes, she realized the words she’d repeated to him were true. She did love him. She had come to love him very much in a short amount of time. She knew it sounded impossible, but it had happened and it was true. Just like everything she had told him today, the post-coital horror story hidden in a fairy tale, had also happened and was also true.

There were some secrets you kept for a lifetime, and some stories you wished had never happened, and some people you never, ever wanted to leave, and some people you wished you’d never, ever met. But in the end, Erica realized, thinking about her mother, her first mother-the one who had been the daughter of a monster, who grew into a sort of monster herself, because that was the story she had been told was true about her-in the end, you lost everyone you loved, and all the secrets you kept and all the stories you believed died too.

The only thing you could hold onto in the world, the only thing that made any sense, was the feeling she had when Clay put his arms around her and told her he loved her. That was worth having, worth holding, worth its precious weight in gold. The rest of it was just a fairy tale, a made-up story with characters who walked around and talked and did all the things the storyteller told them to until people forgot about them and then they too, were nothing more than dust.

Nothing stayed, nothing ever changed. But love, only love, that was the true part of the story, no matter what the beginning, middle or end.

* * * *

Things had returned to some semblance of normal when it happened. Erica and Leah had gone to Hudson’s the Saturday after they’d returned from their honeymoon to take back some of the duplicate items Leah and Rob had received as wedding gifts. They were meeting Leah’s mother for lunch on the thirteenth floor and Erica was looking forward to her Maurice salad, but it never even made it to the table.

They had just sat down when Leah excused herself to use the bathroom. Erica didn’t think anything of it. Their mother-still so strange to think of her that way, but she was slowly growing used to it-was showing them a new hat she’d purchased and Erica sipped her water and listened, watching Leah disappear around the corner.

Her sister had come home happy and tanned from the Caribbean, talking about blue water and white sand. Her father couldn’t wait to get to his darkroom to develop the photographs he’d taken, and Leah and Erica had curled up on the couch together and played catch up.

Of course, Erica didn’t tell her everything she’d done while they were gone. Her father would find out, soon enough, she gathered, when he went into his darkroom. She didn’t know how often he used that hidden darkroom, to be honest. He had another darkroom. There was a red light over the door that meant keep “out.” That was the darkroom he went to when they’d returned from their honeymoon, coming out with photographs so beautiful they took Erica’s breath away.

“So I hear they’re talking about New York,” Patty said, sipping her tea.

“That’s what Leah said.” Erica raised her eyebrows. She didn’t know Leah had told their mother already that they were making plans, looking for a new house.

“Well, that will be good if you go to Wellesley or Brown.”

Erica shrugged, tracing her finger over the round, wet ring left by her water glass on the tablecloth. She didn’t want to advertise it too much, but she was really hoping to get into USC. Going to Berkley with Clay was the most exciting thing she could imagine. They’d spent all week talking about it, planning for it. Things were moving fast, so fast, but for Erica, they couldn’t be fast enough. She’d spent the whole week with him, playing house, and she discovered that there was nothing in the world she wanted more than to play house with him for real.

She’d fallen in love with him so fast it scared her, but in spite of that, she wasn’t going to shy away from the fact. She loved him, and more than anything, she wanted what Leah had with Rob, what she saw in their eyes when they danced that first wedding dance-only with a smattering less sappy and a dash more sarcasm. That was Clay, and that was what she wanted.

They both heard the raised voices at the same time, their eyes meeting in surprise. Someone was having quite a heated argument at the front of the restaurant. That’s when Erica clearly heard Leah’s voice, pitched at a near scream, loud enough for every head around them to turn in that direction.

“Where is she?” Leah screamed, and that’s all Erica needed to hear. She bolted from the table, Patty close on her heels. “I want my baby back! Where is my baby? Where is she?”

Erica found her way blocked by a crowd of spectators that had begun to gather at the front of the restaurant, near the restrooms. Patty used her shoulder to edge her way through, saying, “Excuse me! Excuse me, please!” the whole time, but she was knocking patrons aside like a linebacker, and Erica followed in her wake, the screaming turning to crying, wailing really, a high-pitched keen.

“Leah!” Patty burst through the crowd, finding her daughter being restrained by a burly security guard, but she was still struggling, kicking her feet-her heels were scattered on the floor, along with the contents of her spilled pocketbook. Erica got on her knees, hurriedly picking up her sister’s things, still trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

“This is hers too.” The woman handed her a hair comb she recognized, one with sharp metal teeth, and Erica looked up, seeing matching gouges in a long line down the woman’s bloody face, right under her eye.

If the puzzle wasn’t clear enough already, Patty cleared things up, leaning over to whisper in Erica’s ear, “It’s the social worker.”

“She could have blinded me, the vicious little bitch!” the social worker snapped as the owner of the restaurant apologized, offering her a cloth and some ice for her cheek, and Erica watched this with growing anger, resisting finishing what Leah had started only by sheer force of will.

No matter what Patty or Erica said, the security guard refused to let Leah go, insisting, “She assaulted that woman! She’s going to jail, Lady!”

Desperate, Erica ran for the pay phone, calling her father who was, thankfully, still at the house. She told him what had happened and he said he was on his way, hanging up before Erica could even finish telling him everything.

“Where is she? Where is she? Where is she? Where is she?” Over and over Leah screamed, her voice growing hoarse, whittled down to a croak by the time the police arrived. The crowd that had gathered was told to disperse, but they refused, staying to watch the train wreck.

The officer put her in handcuffs, but he told his partner they really needed four-point restraints and radioed for an ambulance. When they arrived, Leah was put on a stretcher, this time in some sort of jacket that wrapped around her body and buckled to keep her from moving.

Her eyes were closed, and she was drugged and mumbling when they started wheeling her away. The only word Erica could make out was, “Grace.”

The paramedics tended to the woman, the one Leah had called ‘the ghoul,’ bandaging her face and suggesting she come with them to the hospital.