299 Days: The Preparation Part 2

That summer after graduation but before leaving for college, Grant's dad had been virtually silent to him. His dad knew that Grant had just accomplished more at by age eighteen than he ever would. Grant could clearly sense his dad's jealousy, anger, and resentment. But Larry knew that Grant was even bigger and in better shape than when he was a soph.o.m.ore and whipped his a.s.s. Larry wouldn't even think about hitting Grant now. Grant knew it. Just about every time Grant saw his dad that summer he thought to himself that the only thing keeping him from getting hit was that Grant could hit harder.

Grant understood violence. And he understood what it took to stop violence-the threat of superior violence. Yet another life lesson Grant learned during his childhood. It was a lesson that most other people would never understand.

In late August, it was finally time to go. Grant would be staying in the dorms. He didn't even try to get into a fraternity; poor kids from Forks wouldn't be welcomed there, he figured. His dad drove Grant the four hours to Seattle, virtually without speaking a word. It was a very long trip.

When they got to the UW, his dad did something unusual. He smiled. He looked Grant in the eye and said, "I'm proud of you, son." Grant was stunned.

"Thanks, Dad," Grant said. That was it. Grant was now a college student.

He loved college life. He loved the drinking and the huge library full of books on the Revolutionary War. And the girls. He loved the girls. They were gorgeous. These weren't like the girls in Forks. They would actually go out with him, because they didn't know he was a loser. Yet. He had to keep his past under wraps.

Grant made a complete transformation of himself when he got to the UW. He spent the money he made from working his a.s.s off over the summer on decent clothes. He looked entirely different. He fit in. He was a new person.

Grant got invited to a fraternity party. What the h.e.l.l, Grant thought, this is part of the college experience, right? Grant went to the party. There were lots of really beautiful girls there. Sorority girls.

Everyone was drinking beer. Grant went up to the keg and poured a cup like the experienced drinker he was. That was a thing that kids from Forks knew how to do well.

And then, there she was. Coming in the door. A beautiful girl, with a beautiful smile. Amazingly beautiful. Like an "I have to spend my life with her" kind of amazing. A great song was playing, "Lips like Sugar" by Echo and the Bunnymen. Grant would never forget that song. It seemed to fit the scene perfectly.

Grant was decent looking, so he had a chance with this girl, but it would still be a long shot. He needed to use his secret weapon: humor.

The party was a barbeque, so this girl had a paper plate with a hamburger and a pickle spear on it. Grant was keeping an eye on her in between chats with other people. He was waiting for her to finish eating; there was no use trying to get her attention when she's trying to eat. When the hamburger was gone and only the pickle spear was left, Grant decided to take a risk. He walked up, smiled his big country boy smile, looked at her and gave it his best shot.

"You gonna eat that pickle?" he asked.

She started laughing.

"Oh, you can have it if you'd like," she said, smiling. That was a good sign. So far, so good.

"Nah, I don't want the pickle," Grant said very confidently. "I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm Grant."

"I'm Lisa and I knew you didn't want the pickle," she said with yet another smile. Clever. She was pretty and smart. A great combo. But probably out of his league. Oh well, let's see what happens, he thought to himself.

"What house are you in?" Grant asked, referring to her sorority. Delta something was the answer. Grant didn't really pay attention to what she said. He was just looking at her.

The next hour was the most amazing conversation of Grant's life. It was about everything and nothing. Grant found out that Lisa Taylor was the daughter of an accountant and lived in Bellevue, which was the richest town in the Seattle area. She was pre-med. Yeah, right. A girl this beautiful would be pre-med for about two semesters and then get an easier major.

Lisa felt drawn to Grant. She didn't really know why. He was cute and tall-6' 2"-but there were cuter boys there that night.

This Grant guy was interesting, unlike all the Bellevue boys who were so predictable. Grant had a realness to him. The kind of realness you didn't see in her affluent suburban world where things were... predictable. He was absolutely different than anyone else she'd ever met. Opposites attract.

She didn't know why, but she felt safe around him. He had a flow, an ease. He seemed more mature than the other freshman boys. She felt like there was plenty to learn about him. Interesting things; interesting in a good way. He was simultaneously brilliant and goofy. Not "goofy" in a weird way. Irreverent. But polite at the same time. It was hard to explain.

The main thing that drew her toward him was his sense of humor. He was a blast to be around. During the long conversation, her sides literally got sore from laughing. She'd never been around anyone like him.

Grant was scared to death. This seemed like the most important conversation of his life; he was a loser talking to a pretty girl. That's scary. He was pulling it off, though, apparently making it look easy.

He had learned from real life scary things-actual threats to his life-to use the fear as a way to focus on the task at hand. To focus on getting away from a knife-wielding maniac, on rappelling off a cliff during a search and rescue, on making a great first impression on an amazing girl. Grant was good at conquering his fear.

"Do you have a major yet?" Lisa asked Grant.

"I think I'll do history," Grant said. "American History." He didn't go into the Revolutionary War stuff because she probably wouldn't care. And he didn't want to seem "weird."

"Where are you from, Mr. Pickle Lover?" she asked with another one of those beautiful smiles.

Grant was afraid of this question the whole time. He had been trying to steer the conversation away from this topic, but knew all along that there was no way to not mention this. Oh well. Let's see what happens.

"Forks," he said. "I have all my teeth and everything." She laughed.

"I've kinda heard of it," she said. "Where's that?"

"Out on the Olympic Peninsula," Grant said. "Clallam County."

"What does your dad do there in Forks?" she asked. Grant could feel his perfect girlfriend slipping away.

Grant looked her right in the eye and said, "He's an unemployed, abusive, former logger."

Silence.

"Just kidding," Grant said. "My dad's a photographer."

She laughed. This guy was so entertaining.

Whew.

"You had me going there with that logger thing," she said.

The conversation went on. Grant felt a buzz like he was drunk, except that he'd had only one or two beers. He was in love.

Great. A loser had fallen in love with a rich sorority girl. This probably won't end well. Oh well. He realized that he couldn't possibly forget about her so he would be stuck with either a broken heart or the best thing to ever happen to him. He mentally shrugged. We'll see what happens, he thought to himself.

Lisa spotted someone and said, "Hey, I need to say *hi *to myfriend. I'll be right back."

Grant finished the beer he'd been nursing and thought about how lucky he was. Everything seemed to be going really well. This might turn out to be a disaster, but tonight was smooth sailing so far.Lisa hadn't come back yet. Grant was getting nervous. Then it was ten minutes and still no Lisa. Grant was worried. Then it was fifteen minutes. Grant started looking for her. Panic. She wasn't anywhere.

Grant had been ditched. d.a.m.n it. It seemed to be going so well. c.r.a.p. He went back to his dorm and thought about how his whole life was over now. No matter what he tried, he would be a loser. Forever. Not even college was helping him.

The next day he went to cla.s.s, but couldn't concentrate. Lisa was all he could think about. While he was walking, he b.u.mped into things right in front of him because he was so focused on her, and feeling like his life was over at age eighteen.

Grant came up with a plan. A stupid plan, but a plan nonetheless. He couldn't remember her last name, so he would go to each of the twenty or so sororities and ask for "Lisa" and see what happened.

He went to the first sorority and asked for "Lisa." The girl at the door asked for a last name. Grant said, "That's the part I don't know." The girl said, "We have several girls here named Lisa, so I really need a last name before I call someone down." Grant left. This was going to suck.

He went to the second sorority on that street and knocked.

Guess who answered the door? Lisa. What are the odds? Grant thought. This was meant to be.

Lisa seemed very thrilled that he was there. He acted like he meant to be there, instead of the fact that he was on a desperate mission to salvage his life from ruin.

"Oh, hey, hi," Grant said like he wasn't alarmed at all. "I was just following up from the party last night. You kinda disappeared."

Lisa smiled. She a.s.sumed he remembered what sorority she was in and had come to see her. "I'm so glad you came by," she said. "I went to say *hi' to my girlfriend and she grabbed my arm and took me over to the Beta house. I thought I could get back to see you, but I couldn't." She seemed to be telling the truth.

"Well, let's go get something to eat," Grant said. "Some place with pickles." Lisa burst out laughing. That was how he asked her out on their first date. Pickles. It actually worked.

Grant and Lisa were pretty much inseparable for the next three and a half years.

Chapter 5.

History Grant joined a fraternity of good guys. The fraternity wasn't the bunch of d.i.c.ks he a.s.sumed they would be. Several of them came from small towns like he did. Most of them seemed to be like him; they were at the UW to get good jobs and have some fun.

Grant was doing really well in cla.s.s, especially history. He took an introductory cla.s.s on the Revolutionary War and after about two weeks, his professor, Professor Estes, asked him to stay after cla.s.s.

"Where did you learn so much about the Revolutionary War?" He asked Grant.

"The library." Grant wasn't trying to be a smart a.s.s. "What is the one question you would ask a Founder?" his professor asked. This was his standard question for seeing if a person was a serious thinker on this period of history or not.

"Oh, that's easy," Grant said. "I'd ask Thomas Jefferson why he thought the American Revolution turned out so differently than the French Revolution."

"What do you think President Jefferson would say?" Professor Estes asked.

They spent the next two hours talking about the differences between the American and French Revolutions. The basic answer was that the American colonies had a tradition of self-rule and diverse religious backgrounds, while France was run top-down and only had one religion. The American revolutionaries were also very conscious of how most revolutions end up-a bloodbath of terror by opportunistic politicians. Also, the American revolutionaries did not try to hunt down and kill all their Loyalist opponents. They hung some of them, of course, but they let most of them either go to Canada or reintegrate into America if they pledged not to cause trouble. Reconciliation was the difference.

Grant shrugged and summed up his point to Professor Estes. "The Founders were practical people," he said. "They understood that they needed the former Loyalists to be doctors, businessmen, farmers, laborers. The nation wouldn't last long if it was constantly re-fighting that war among its people. At some point, a country must put all the old vendettas aside and get on with building roads, establishing inst.i.tutions, growing businesses... living life. The Founders prized the country actually working after the Revolution more than they wanted to hunt down people they hated. That's where the French went wrong."

Professor Estes was taking it all in. He just sat there for a while. "Are you in the History Department?" he asked Grant.

"Yes, I'm an American history major," Grant said.

"Would you like to work for me as a researcher?" Professor Estes asked.

Grant blurted out, "A job working on this? Getting paid to learn about the Revolutionary War? h.e.l.l, yes." Then he corrected himself. "I mean, yes, Professor."

Grant ended up producing a senior thesis paper on the differences between the American and French Revolutions. It was even published in a scholarly journal, a very rare honor for an undergraduate. For a senior seminar project, he wrote about the differences between the guerilla warfare in the American and French Revolutions. He compared the theories of Mao and those of the American revolutionary guerilla leaders and found that tactically, they were largely the same.

The UW was so different than Forks. Grant thought that just about everyone he met, especially the rich kids, lived in such an artificial world. In their world, food was always in the grocery store, the power was always on, and the police always came when they called 911. They had no idea what being hungry was like, what a cold night was like, or what violence was.

Lisa fell into this category. Grant couldn't expect a beautiful, charming, future doctor girlfriend to be a hillbilly. In fact, her being a hillbilly would defeat the whole purpose of Grant starting a life in the suburbs with a respectable job and a respectable wife. Hillbilly was exactly what Grant was trying to get away from.

But every time Grant saw how the affluent Bellevue people lived, he kept wondering how this could be sustained. No one else seemed to be wondering about this. He couldn't get his mind off of this topic: American life was unsustainable. He thought about it all the time, in between thinking about Lisa and his future life in the suburbs.

American history was great and all but Grant found something that was even cooler, and that would pay better.

He had always worked at least one job since he was kid. He wanted to earn some more money-partying and having a girlfriend wasn't free-so he took a job at the federal prosecutor's office as a photocopy clerk. He got to meet all kinds of lawyers and FBI agents. It was very cool. He quickly realized that he could be a lawyer.

Grant was drawn to the law. His mind naturally worked like the law: elements, applying the facts, coming to a conclusion supported by a law, and making arguments. He could instantly pick up on legal theories and could remember every detail of legal cases and history. It was weird. He was made to do this.

Many people he respected were telling him that he should go to law school. He brought up the idea with Lisa.

"Law school would be great for you," she said with a huge smile. "We could do med school and law school at the same time." She had stayed a pre-med major and was getting straight As. She was actually going to be a doctor. She was also probably very glad that she could tell her family that her boyfriend from little old Forks was going to law school. It sounded a lot better than a "history major." And way better than "unemployed logger."

Grant remembered his conversation with his Grandpa: "Only rich people can be lawyers." Well, now, he was about to be one.

The one thing Grant didn't think about much during these years was Forks. He was completely wrapped up in Lisa, school, working, achieving, achieving, and achieving some more. He was getting papers published, planning on law school, and was in a very serious relationship with a gorgeous soon-to-be doctor. He was accomplishing everything he set out to. And more. Lots more. This was the path he thought about when he was nine. It was all coming true.

Chapter 6.

Law School and Marriage About a year into their dating, Lisa invited Grant to meet her parents. Grant was nervous. They would be on to him and his hillbilly past.

Past? Yes, it was his past now. He was a completely different person. He wasn't a loser anymore. He was a respected person. He figured he could pull off meeting the parents.

When they drove to her parents' house, Grant could not believe how big and beautiful it was. It was the nicest house he had ever seen. Later he would think about it; they had a nice house, but it wasn't a mansion. It was just so much better than the shack Grant had grown up in.

Lisa's dad, Andrew "Drew" Taylor, was a partner in a giant national accounting firm. Her mom gardened a lot. When he met Mr. Taylor, Grant shook his hand firmly and said, "Pleased to meet you, Sir."

Lisa's dad appreciated the "Sir" part but said, "Please, call me Drew." Grant nodded.

Lisa's mom, Eileen, seemed nice. He lightly shook Mrs. Taylor's hand and said, "Pleased to meet you too, ma'am." "Call me Eileen, Grant," she said.

So far, so good.

They got to know each other. Surprisingly, Lisa's parents both grew up on farms in Eastern Washington. Eastern Washington was the rural part of the state. It was nothing like Seattle. Lisa's parents were down to earth people. They had worked hard, achieved a lot, and were respectable people. Lisa and her parents actually appeared to like each other; it seemed so different than how Grant grew up. He felt comfortable around them, but in their nice home he still felt like a hick masquerading as a college student.

They had dinner and Grant was not making any mistakes. He knew which fork was for salad and which was for dessert. He didn't try to be funny or to be... himself. He was playing it safe.

"So, Grant," Drew said, "Lisa tells me you're a history major. What do you plan to do with that?" He didn't say it like a put-down; he was genuinely curious.

"I plan on going to law school," Grant announced with pride. The Taylor's eyes perked up. Lisa hadn't told them that; she wanted to surprise them with the good news in person.

Going to law school was the right answer. "I am interested in being a judge, perhaps," Grant said. He never used the word "perhaps" except in fancy settings like this.

Law school? Maybe a judge? That was music to the Taylors' ears. The night went well. The Taylors were nice and they seemed to think Grant was OK. No one asked about Forks.

Grant took the law school entrance test and did very well. He got into the University of Washington and didn't even use the Indian thing.

Lisa got into the UW Medical School the same year. They were set.