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  • Grace Ch. 12

Grace Ch. 12

The next morning, I awake to sunlight drenching the bed. That makes twice that my phone alarm hasn't gone off. I take it from the night stand and see that it's almost eleven in the morning, much later than I'd normally be up. I also see that I have three missed calls from Nicole. I put her out of my mind, resolving to deal with that issue later. My head slightly aches from not having my usual caffeine fix, but my ass, surprisingly, doesn't hurt at all.

I find my bra and yellow rose dress from last night laid out at the foot of the bed and, deciding they aren't actually that dirty, I throw them back on. I pad, barefoot, down two the first floor and find Richard setting a small breakfast table while Catherine cooks something at the stove. The kitchen smells delightful and I follow the smell.

"Good morning," I offer, shyly.

"Good morning, Grace!" Kathy enthuses, "I was just about to come and wake you. What would you like in your omelet?"

"Oh, I dunno."

I feel strange, asking someone else to cook for me, especially someone who I've already accepted so much generosity from.

"I'm having ham and cheese and green peppers." Says Richard.

I see what he is doing and I smile, grateful.

"May I have the same, please?" I ask.

"You got it, sweetie," Catherine laughs.

"And, I'm sorry, but do you have coffee?"

"We have an espresso machine. Why don't you make something nice for the three of us. " Catherine suggests. "I have a feeling you're not bad at it." She winks at me.

I grin at the invitation, finally feeling pleased at the opportunity to do something for Richard and Catherine, and something I'm not half bad at on top of that.

I find ground beans behind the machine and pull a double shot of espresso, steaming whole milk as it pours then pouring in it in in one fluid, well-practiced motion before topping it with foam. I feel Richard come up behind me,

"You're so fast at this," he admires.

"You have you get the milk to the espresso quickly or it turns bitter."

"Oh," he laughs, "that explains why my lattes are always so...bitter." He turns back. "Sorry dear!" he calls to Catherine and she laughs at him.

Richard dramatically oohs and aahs and I use a toothpick to create my signature leaf pattern in the foam and he makes me giggle with his silly flattery.

I hand him the cup and, with the same silly air, say, "For you, good Sir."

He gives me a deep smile, knowing my words are only half a joke and half a nod to last night. I can't believe I've had the nerve to say them. I suppose that, when disguised as a joke, anything can seem easier to admit.

I pull the next round of shots and start the process over again and, this time, decorate the top of the drink with a swirling pattern before putting it on the breakfast table for Catherine.

I pull three shots of espresso for myself, and top them with cold milk, always preferring cold drinks myself, no matter the weather.

The three of us settle in with our omelets and coffee and I begin to feel like an actual human again once I begin eating and drinking.

"Thank you so much for breakfast" I say with genuine gratitude.

"And thank you for caffeine" Catherine says, sipping her swirled latte. "This really is the best latte I think I've ever had."

Richard hangs his head in mock shame and the three of us share a laugh. I manage to eat a bit more slowly than last night, savoring Catherine's food as it deserves to be savored.

Richard swallows, "I have some good news for you, Grace."

I look up, "Oh?"

"Yes," he continues, "Kevin, who you met at Sensations, has been living in my apartment above the shop for about a year and his lease just recently expired. I called him this morning and he says he's not going to renew, meaning I'm going to be needing a new tenant."

"Richard told me that he offered to let you stay here," continues Catherine, "and that's fine, but I know how us girls just need our personal space."

I nod, honestly a little confused by how I'd been asked to stay and then, so suddenly, asked to leave. I'm left wondering if it is really an issue of my personal space, or if maybe Catherine wasn't so keen on me staying with them in the first place. Either way, I decide, it's probably best if I have my own place. I would have to move out eventually.

"That sounds great,"

"Wonderful," says Richard, "then we'll head down there this afternoon."

-

Sensations looks a lot different in the light of day. It honestly looks like any other shop on this downtown street, inviting and modern against the cobblestone pathways, surrounded by flowering shrubs.

Richard walks in coolly and I follow behind him. I see Kevin, looking especially sharp in a black shirt and gray vest, the long tuft of hair atop his head, gelled and styled neatly. He leaves his place behind the front counter and greets Richard with a handshake, then extends the same gesture to me and I take his hand for a handshake that is surprisingly soft and gentle.

"Hey Miss Grace, how's that tattoo feeling?" Kevin takes my arm and pulls it close to his face, mumbling to himself, "No redness or infection, a little bit of scabbing. Looks excellent."

"It feels fine," I smile at him.

Kevin turns his attention to Richard, "Come on up, ya'll. It's a little messy but I'm packing so what can you do?"

We follow Kevin to the back of the tattoo studio, past the buzzing sounds of Sky's curtained off area and to a stairwell. Sky. That's who I was trying to remember. Bethany said it was Sky who had told her that I was here, in Asheville. This has got to be the person she was talking about.

But before I can so much as peak a glance at Sky, we are ascending the stairs at the back of the studio, following Kevin to the top.

"Now all the furniture comes with the place-" Kevin begins to explain, but I am barely listening.

This place is beautiful, as nice as Richard and Catherine's house and much nicer than any apartment I've ever stayed in before.

The floor is plush beige carpet that looks as new as the tan walls, decorated with huge, colorful paintings. The living area extends into a dining and office space and all the furniture, from the TV stand to the desk is made from rich, red wood. The dining space connects to a large, circular kitchen, with a counter looking out at the living room, giving the entire space a very open feel. On the other side of the dining area, a large balcony extends

Kevin saunters past the leather couch and flings himself onto the matching armchair. "-and if you need anything, this guy is amazing about getting things fixed super quickly." He points to Richard with both hands and winks. "Go, explore, check everything out."

I peak into the kitchen first, the gleaming silver appliances looking as if they've never been used. Normally, I'd open the oven and refrigerator doors and inspect the cabinets, but I feel weird touching or moving anything in this place. How did Kevin manage to keep everything so spotless?

Past the dining area is a short hallway and, to my left, the master bedroom. A plush white bed, not unlike the guest bed I spend last night on, sits in the center of the room and is surrounded my nightstands and dressers all in a light, ash wood. The light wood against the ocean blue of the walls reminds me of being at the beach. This room is nearly immaculate except for the piles of boxes against the walls. If this is what Kevin considers messy, then I am officially a hoarder.

I find myself really wishing I could live here. But, who am I kidding? I'm positive that there is no way I'll be able to afford this place without a roommate. Maybe for two months tops until my savings run out, and then what? I feel a stabbing pain at the reminder that I am, in fact, unemployed...and who's going to hire the girl who got fired for mouthing off at a customer?

The attached bathroom has one of those walk-in showers large enough to fit an attached bench inside, just like my childhood home had and I fall in love a little deeper with this place. There's a second, more publicly accessible bathroom attached to the hallway and then, at the other end a locked door.

"Kevin? What's this room?" I call to him, jiggling the handle.

"Oh, that's Richard's storage," he laughs, "couldn't tell you what's in there, I've never opened it."

Richard laughs along, following up close behind me and placing his hand on my waist. "I'll have it cleared out before you move in," he assures me.

"About that," I begin. How embarrassing. How do I tell Richard that a place this nice is absurdly out of my price range? He knows that I just lost my job though, so surely, he's can't expect me to be able to afford anything this spacious and new. "I really hate to bring up money, but, that might be an issue for me."

Richard nods, finding his place near Kevin on the leather sofa and gesturing for me to sit with him.

"Employees, don't pay rent here, silly." Kevin chimes.

"Employees?" I stare, confused at Kevin, and then at Richard.

"Oh, sorry, Rick, I thought you told her." Kevin blushes.

"Only if you'd like the job." Richard says quickly. "I know being a receptionist probably isn't as exciting as being a barista. But Kevin's beginning his apprenticeship to become a tattoo artist and I need someone I can trust at my front desk. A friendly face for my clientele."

I'm honored at the notion that Richard trusts me enough to suggest that I be the face of his magnificent studio. And getting to live here for free seems too good to be true.

"I feel like you're being too generous with me," I say.

"Perhaps," he acquiesces, "but you are worth it."

Now I am the one blushing. I feel so well taken care of with Richard. I finally feel like everything will be alright.

"I would like to work for you," I say.

"Are you sure, Grace?" he asks, "I don't want you to feel pressured. You can still live here and work elsewhere. Or I can help you find a different place entirely."

I shake my head, "No why? This is amazing. I'm so grateful."

"Wonderful, then let's head downstairs and look at some forms."

-

I lay on my stomach on Richard and Catherine's guest bed, my earphones in, zoning out to some random new age instrumental song. If I close my eyes, it almost feels like I could float away into space on the notes of a pan flute. I feel more relaxed than I have all week. Finally, things are going my way and falling into place in a way that makes sense.

I have a new job, I have a beautiful place to live, I have whatever weird relationship I have with Richard and I suppose Catherine too. Kevin seems nice, like maybe we could be friends. Things are alright.

I smile to myself. I'm sketching on my small, travel pad. It's another image that has formed itself organically and I watch as my hands create the figure of a woman from behind, huge dark wings sprouting from her back, spread wide open. Flames lick at her feet, but she floats above them. It is a dark but powerful thing I've created, and I savor it as my thumb smudges in rough shading.

It's nice having this time to myself. It seems that, for the past few days, I've been so occupied with other people that I really haven't enjoyed myself without an accompanying sense of guilt. But just the thought of being preoccupied with other people makes me remember that I had missed several calls from Nicole and never returned them. Shit. I really do not want to ruin this wonderful mood by fighting with Nicole. But, then again, If I've ever felt like I was in a healthy enough head space to talk to someone like an adult, it's now.

I pick up the phone and press her name. The phone rings just once and, instantly, Nicole is on the other end.

"Gracie! Oh my god, thank you for calling back. I know I don't deserve it but please hear me out." She is rambling a mile a minute and I'm struggling just to catch up. "I have been thinking a lot and talking to Brad to, but, I mean, fuck Brad, because this is between us. The point is, I was really wrong to not believe you over Bethany and I was really caught up with my feelings for Brad and I wasn't thinking about you and I'm so sorry."

"Um," I pause, "Hi, Nicole." There's so much for me to process. She's had feelings for Brad...but I can't really blame her for how she feels. And now she's taking all the blame for everything and apologizing for our fight?

"It's good to hear your voice, Grace. Where are you?"

"Just with friends. But I found a new place to stay."

"Oh, Gracie. I'm so sorry. Of course, you did. Because I said we shouldn't be roommates. That was so stupid and immature of me. We're not in high school, I mean, I should be able to communicate with you like an adult."

That makes me laugh, "I don't think any twenty-one-year-old is actually expected to have adult-like communication skills."

She laughs a little too and sniffles. Has she been crying?

"I just, it's okay that you found your own place. But I hope you'll still be my friend. Can you forgive me?"

The truth is that I'd forgiven Nicole from the moment I left the apartment. She's always been impossible to stay angry with; I love her too much. She's my beautiful, perfect best friend who saved me from my dysfunctional relationship and from my own stubbornness.

"I forgive you, of course Nic."

"Thank you! You're the best! And maybe I can come see your new place sometime?"

"I'd like that." I smile, preparing to say goodbye before I remember, "Oh. So tell me about you and Brad."

"Grace, I have to confess. I've had a crush on Brad ever since you brought him home last Christmas. But I was going to be good and let you have him. That's what friends do. But when you just seemed so...uninterested, we started texting, just as friends. But I always wanted it to become more. So, when Bethany hurt him, I just got so mad and...and I took it out on you and that was wrong. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Nicole. You were hurt, I get it. I already said I forgive you." And I do forgive her. After all, I was never interested in Brad. Hell, I've gotten further with Nicole than I'd gotten with Brad.

"I know, 'cause you're the sweetest."

"Well," I say, "You have my full blessing to date Brad, for what it's worth."

"What? It's worth a lot! Thank you. That means a lot!"

"Nicole?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really glad things are okay between us."

"Oh my god, me too," she enthuses, "my heart was aching, I swear. Oh! Um, actually. When are you coming to get your stuff?"

I suppose I do have a lot more to pack if I'm going to fully move into the apartment above the tattoo studio.

"Can I come by tonight?" I ask.

"Yes, please."

We hang up and I put my ear buds back in. I feel, if such a thing is even possible, even more at peace than before.

Everything is going to be okay.

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