It’s been a week since I sent him on his way, and I’m still laughing just thinking about it. Vindication is one of the best feelings in the world.
Now, I’m just stuck, waiting. I’ve written all there is to write.The Book Proposalis essentially complete, with the exception of one thing.
I spend a good chunk of the afternoon hoping for an email from Colin to arrive. Every time I hear the phone ding, I nearly jump out ofmy skin. At 4:00, I start getting myself ready for work, and I leave at 4:30 for my 5:00 shift, even though it’s only a ten-minute walk. I intentionally move slowly, soaking in the beautiful weather. Birds chirp. A fishing boat returns from a day at sea. The baby buds on the trees have sprouted light-green leaves that sway delicately in the gentle breeze. The air is saturated with hope.
The store is fairly busy for a Tuesday evening. I get a group of girls who are probably in middle school, who grab the velour chairs in the corner and gab ferociously about their love interests. They occupy about ninety minutes of my five-hour shift. A runner comes in for a decaf iced tea; a couple of college kids who know Sabrina come in just to say hi to her. A dog walker gets a cold brew. A pair of women come in well after the sun’s gone down and snag two of our remaining sandwiches, along with a cookie and some bottles of water. They sit by the window and chat in curious whispers.
At the end of my shift, I scarf down a protein bar, and on the way home, I realize I’m still pretty hungry, so I swing into the pizzeria.
“Pasta special ends at nine, Gracie, but I’ll hook you up if that’s what you’re here for,” a smiling Italian man says as I approach the counter.
“Thanks, Sal. I’ll just take a slice to go.”
“Regular or Sicilian, bellissima?”
I smile. “Regular, please.”
“On the house, Gracie,” he replies, handing me a poofed-up white paper bag. Inside, my single slice of pizza sits on a thin paper plate.
“You sure?”
“I’m closing up in a few minutes. Extra food gets wrapped up for donations. So yeah, kid. It’s either you or the church.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Anytime, hon. You get home safe,” he says.
I get to my building and head up to my apartment, my pizza sliceresting in my palm. I set it down on the kitchen table and say hello to Dorian Gray, who doesn’t even bother to open his eyes.
I put my purse on the counter and reach into the fridge for a can of lime seltzer.
And that’s when I hear theding.
I grab the cell phone from my purse and swipe right, punch in the code, and open my email. My heart flutters when I see his name. I’m afraid to open it, but I also know that if I wait even just one more second, I will burst into flames.
To:Grace Landing ([email protected])
From:Colin Yarmouth ([email protected])
RE:help
Attachment:TheBookProposal.docx
Gracie,
Come outside, please.
C.
In the second grade, we had a really mean teacher named Mrs. Glugman. She was the kind of awful you never forget. One time, she tossed a boy’s desk over because she found an old sandwich in it. She loved to yell, and even though she was small and fragile looking, she had a strong voice and crazy eyes and knew how to terrify children into obedience.
I was known for keeping to myself and not really bothering anyone. I followed the rules, stayed quiet, and hung out with the few little girl friends I had. When it was time for recess, we would sometimes jump rope, or if it was a nice day out, I might bring a Judy Blume or Beverly Cleary paperback book from home and read it on the bench under the tree in our schoolyard.
One particularly nice October day, I was rereading my tattered old copy ofRamona the Pestwhile snacking on Hershey’s kisses. You know how sometimes you read a book and just get so deep into it that you lose all sense of what you’re doing? Well, that’s happened to me since I was very young. As I was eating, I balled up the little tinfoil wrappers and discarded them onto the ground thoughtlessly.
Mrs. Glugman came out to the schoolyard to retrieve us when recess was over and immediately hollered at me from the door. “Grace Landing!” she shouted.
I sat straight up, and a clenching feeling gripped my stomach. I worried I might throw up.
