Fall From Grace Part 4

I mean I'm still a bit tired, but I'm actually feeling a lot better health-wise; maybe all I needed was a good cry and a full nights sleep. I didn't dream a thing last night which was a welcome reprieve. I slept so deeply, I barely heard my phone chirping from Kim. I glance at the clock and hustle into the bathroom for my 'conceal the fact you cried yourself to bed' make-up when I freeze in front of my full-length mirror. Staring at my reflection, I inch a little closer, not understanding who this person is looking back at me. I was expecting red swollen eyes, blotchy skin, maybe even a red and flakey nose - typical bawlfest outcome. No, this wasn't what I was expecting at all. I look different. Different from yesterday. Different from last night. Me still, but really not me.

You know when you're 15 and wake up on your 16th birthday and you think YAY! I'm old now and I'm finally going to get my b.o.o.bs and no more pimples! Then you look in the mirror and you look exactly the same, maybe a little worse. Well that's what I first thought of, but the bizarro version of that scenario.

I actually look better some how. Almost like my hair grew a few more inches since last night and appears a little glossier and fuller. Plus, I am so not lying about this, but my b.o.o.bs actually look a little bigger. I actually have cleavage popping out of my bra. Dad must have put it in the dryer. I think the crying messed up my eye b.a.l.l.s or something. Maybe the flu bug altered my brain? Maybe I really have been taken by the Stepfords and made into a pretty fem-bot?! Suddenly my phone alarm pierces my ear drums, snapping me back to reality. Fem-bots? Really Stella? Knowing the alarm basically translates to 'leave the house now or you are going to get the shaft', I shake it off and book it to work.

As the day plugs on, I'm actually feeling the best I have in weeks. Kim keeps eyeballing me like I'm on meth or something as I haven't made one single eye roll AND I've been super nice to all the Soccer Moms to boot - a record for me!

Texting Gabs on my break, I apologized for last night and found out that indeed Bongo Boy is gay (sucks) but that thankfully I left when I did as Todd Winters showed up asking Gabs a whole bunch of questions about me. If I was seeing anyone, how I was feeling, if I was into Star Wars. Todd's a nice guy. Too nice really. The Star Wars comment was a little off base but I'm genuinely flattered. I have to think of a nice way to let him down easy. Perhaps if I tell him I prefer Star Trek he'll realize we aren't cosmically matched and move on.

Zoning out as I fold t-shirts and hash over my 'I really want to focus on school right now', or the 'I don't to ruin our friendship' speech, a familiar voice brings me back to the land of here and now.

"Either you're really into orderly t-shirts, or you've fallen into a standing coma due to boredom. Personally I hope it's the coma as the former is really too nerdy for me." Wheeling around, I almost smack Ash in the chin with my elbow before he jumps back in a super fast jolt and avoids the pummel.

"Holy s.h.i.t Ash, didn't your Mother ever teach you not to creep up on people and scare the bejezus out of them?" I stammer, holding my hand to my chest as if it will slow down the frantic hammering that's begun. "Good reflexes though, I'm impressed."

"Sorry Stella, I just thought staring at you any longer without speaking might make me look a little stalker-ish and tarnish my 'new guy' coolness."

"'New guy' coolness? Nah, the chicks are just desperate in this town. They'd take you on even if you had a few sister wives," I say with a smirk getting back some composure.

"Ouch. I guess my charms don't extend to you then Miss Grace. Too bad, I thought we would be dangerously hot together," he says with a wink and a devilish grin as my heart picks up in tempo again. I step back and grab my necklace, playing with the skull charm in a fidgety habit to re-gain control of my nerves.

"So what are you doing here then? Besides Stalking me that is."

Did I just make another joke? Am I shamelessly flirting with him? Yes. Yes I am.

"Hey now, there's definitely something to be said for stalkers; all that determination and focus takes drive. Even 'nerdy' old you would have to admit it's a little admirable."

"Har Har. Ok I get it. But to be fair, I get paid to fold these t-shirts and I happen to be very good at it, so there," I say crossing my arms in front as he hooks his fingers into his front jeans loops.

"So, do you want the honest answer or the non-stalker answer?" he replies.

"Both please."

"Ok, non-stalker is that I need some new clothes until the rest of mine get shipped here from New York. Stalker answer is that I just wanted to see how you were doing after last night."

"Oh. Um. Ya, I'm good. Uh thanks for asking," I pause, surprised over his openness. "I'm really not usually so bizarre, but I've been getting over this flu and it's beaten the c.r.a.p out of me lately. Hormones in overdrive I guess." Mortified I mentioned hormones, I snap my mouth shut and stare down at my riveting feet. What is wrong with you Stella?

"I'm glad. I meant what I said too Stella. Whether her reasons for leaving you were well intended or selfish, you can never think it was an easy choice. Sometimes s.h.i.t happens and there is nothing you can do about it. Well, besides buy some expensive jeans - is that really what they cost?" he says gesturing to the rack beside us with a look of horror.

Grateful for the topic change, I push forward with trying to get him undressed.

"C'mon guy, they're True Religion! They make your b.u.t.t look incredible. Isn't that worth a few hundred?"

"You think I need it?" he says with a glint in his eye. Is he actually flirting back?

Grabbing his shoulders and turning him around in a move I had no idea I was b.a.l.l.sy enough to pull off I say, "We all need a little help from time to time. You're ok, but I work on commission so yes, you need it." The heat rushes through his t-shirt and sends my fingers tingling. I pull my hands back and fold them in front to quell my shaking hands.

Craning his neck back to check his b.u.t.t out, he laughs, "Alright, I'll try them on. But I'd better get a discount for all this hara.s.sment you know. Aren't you supposed to suck up to me and tell me I look devilishly handsome?"

"I think tough love is better, don't you? I mean, we wouldn't want you walking around like this any longer would we?" I say gesturing up and down his body.

Smiling as he turns back around and meets my gaze head on, we share a connected look and it's like last night at The Grind. Like we're the only two people in the store. That thrum of electricity is making me shake harder but this time I feel more powerful, like I'm controlling it, not the other way around. It feels incredible. I don't know how I was able to not stumble through this conversation so far, but I feel different today.

Guiding him to the men's section, we start picking up some very expensive things to try on - hey a girls got to make a living and from the look of him so far, I'd say he has expensive tastes even as he jests, and a very deep wallet. Our conversation flows easily and naturally. As intimidating as I initially thought he was, he's really not too bad. Kind of like when you LOVE a celebrity and you covet them forever; their movies, pictures in magazines, and you have little scenarios running in your head of how they would desperately fall in love with you the instant they met you. Then you see them in an interview and they sound super dumb and annoying bringing you back to reality as they lose that rock star status in your brain. Ash is far from annoying and stupid, but I realize he's just a boy and what have I got to lose? I feel a definite connection with him, whether it's one-sided or not.

Hauling armloads of potentials, we head back towards the change rooms. I unlock number 2 with my free right hand and enter first to hang them up. As I sort them on the pegs, I ask him about his photos.

"So are you thinking of doing photography full time in the fall?" I ask. When I get no reply, I turn around expecting him to be meandering around the belts, only to find him right behind me, blocking my entrance.

"Geez Ash, you're going to have to stop this creepy silent stalker c.r.a.p. I know some kick a.s.s self defence from gym cla.s.s and I'm not afraid to use it."

Without answering my question, he stares into my eyes with a fierce intensity I can't figure out. The air between us seems charged and heavy. I'm finding it hard to breathe in this tiny s.p.a.ce with him.

Turning serious, he says, "Look Stella, one of the reasons I came here was to apologize for my abrupt exit last night. I guess I was a little overwhelmed by you seeing my prints on the walls. It made me nervous, and I don't do well with nervous," he breaks off.

What? I made HIM nervous?

Leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his jeans pockets, he continues, "I love to take pictures, it helps me find beauty out of the garbage in my life. But I never show them like that. I don't know what got into me and why I let Mrs. Castillo see them in the first place. I was in there one day having a coffee and flipping through my book when she bombarded me in a frenzy and wouldn't let me out of there until I agreed to let her show them."

"The wrath of Mrs. C. It's a crime to say no to her, Check out the county by-laws, it's there," I say.

"No kidding. She's great but a little intense you know?"

"Oh I know, believe me when I say that you don't cross that woman. Unless you have a death wish that is," I say quirking a smile at him.

He laughs, letting go of his serious face and relaxing again.

"I'm serious though, have you thought of doing it professionally after high school?" I ask, bringing my fingers up to nibble on the nails. Filthy habit.

"Sometimes. I dunno. I think I would kill myself if I had to make a living taking wedding photos of b.i.t.c.hy brides." He shudders at the thought making me giggle at the idea. "You think they are that good?" he asks.

He stares down at me and my mind just goes blank. What I really think is not lady like enough for me to admit. I clear my throat, "Of course I do, my G.o.d, your work is awesome, I wish I had one ounce of your talent. Truly. Would your parents support you?"

"My Father isn't really that interested in my career choices, I don't think he would have any issues. My Mom died a long time ago." A sadness crosses deep into his expression.

Good one Stella, bring up his dead mom.

"I'm so sorry Ash, I didn't mean to bring it - "

Waving me off he says, "Geez Stella, think nothing of that, I've dealt with the past, it's ancient history, and I'm ok with it, really." Smiling at me again, he lightens the mood. Thank G.o.d. I never really knew how to deal with death. Humiliation and disappointment is old hat to me, but death freaks me out.

"I just wanted to explain my actions, that's all."

"No worries, really. I - " He leans away from the wall to walk forward, pushing me back into the small claustrophobic room with him as he starts to undo his jeans. Whoa.

"What are you doing?!" I shriek.

"Well I AM in a change room, and I thought I would try on all this stuff you think would look amazing on me," he says shining me a confident grin.

"Well let me get the h.e.l.l out first! You change with the door closed Ash. What a line. Does that actually work on anyone? No wonder Francine and you are an item, she's such a sucker!"

As I try to shimmy around him and out the door, he pulls his right arm across and blocks my exit, "Now Stella, have I ever said I was dating Francine?"

"It was just an a.s.sumption - I mean, you hang out at school and the gossips are wagging about your togetherness. It's pretty obvious Ash." I take a deep breath trying to stay cool and nonchalant and stop that enormous flush that is creeping up my neck.

"If I were you I wouldn't a.s.sume anything Stella. Next time just ask me." He enunciates those last three words as he moves towards me like he's about to kiss me. I can see the fine lines on his lips, his beautiful eyes, his smooth skin and his breath intoxicates me, making me forget the world. He smells different from any guy I've ever known. Normally it's cheap heavy cologne and tic-tacs. Ash smells a little sweet, like soap and spice. Very unique and very s.e.xy. Finally, he leans back, taking his arm down and flicking the top b.u.t.ton of his jeans open, exposing the top of his black waistband underwear.

"Now. If you're not going to a.s.sist me in the changing department, then I must ask you to leave before I take my shirt off and you find yourself unable to resist my amazing body. It might get a little embarra.s.sing for your boss," he grins, nodding towards Kim whose eyes that are trained on us like daggers.

"I don't get paid enough for THAT Mr. Grey, call me if you need a new size," I say squeezing by without a backwards glance and shut the door behind me. I smile to myself and step back onto the floor, thanking the G.o.ds that at least he didn't see me trip on the way out.

Chapter 10.

The Past JOHN GRACE.

I need a maid. Period. I know I can afford it, but I always think I should just suck it up and wash my own G.o.d d.a.m.n underwear. Then I find myself sorting darks from whites hating every nanosecond of it. Stella claims she doesn't mind and typically does most of it whipping around with her iPod on full blast. But soon she's leaving. Gone. My G.o.d, she is actually packing up and leaving. Panic has definitely started to set in the last few weeks. My anxiety is through the roof thinking of her alone in the big city. I know I have to let her go but sue me, I just can't.

Christ, when did my little girl become a grown up? I can still remember changing diapers, taking her to first grade, coaching her soccer games, then came the bra store - what an awkward ordeal that was. Now she's graduating and going to college all on her own. What the h.e.l.l am I going to do? Sentiments aside, maid hire comes first.

I'm just so proud of her and how she turned out despite the circ.u.mstances. You'd think she'd be way more screwed up dealing with me as a single father but she really is incredible. It's only been the last few weeks that she's seemed a little off. I count myself lucky that she never became a disgruntled teenager. I couldn't take the drama.

I've always felt she was way more grown up then she was. An old soul. Perhaps I gave her too much responsibility but she really never seemed to mind. About a month ago I started to notice some changes with her. Definitely s.p.a.cey and holed up alone in her room all the time. She blamed exams but I know something is up with Gabs and pray not a guy. Teenagers and hormones, someone kill me now.

Just as I'm shoving the vacuum back into the closet with a little more aggression then necessary, the front door opens and Stella rolls in from her Sat.u.r.day shift.

"Hey Stells. I didn't know you were scheduled for today. I didn't get back until after 11 this morning. Sorry I missed our breakfast date."

She seems happy (good sign) but distracted, as she fumbles to hang her keys, dropping them for the second time. Dam, maybe it IS guy trouble? Or should I say, guy, but no trouble? This isn't making me feel any better.

"No worries Dad. I had to work at the last second anyways. How was Providence?" she asks, leaning down to pick up the keys once more, her mind a mile away.

"It was great actually. We held an interactive forum with a bunch of really brilliant kids... "

She's checking her phone and not listening to a single word.

"...who are convinced that aliens as are going to come to earth and impregnate all the humans with super smart alien babies trained to take over the earth."

"Cool." She walks past me, still fiddling with her phone, towards the kitchen and grabs a drink from the fridge.

"Whoa, earth to Stella? What is up with you today? Are you on drugs? That's it, you're grounded until I die." I fold my arms and lean against the archway into the kitchen.

"Sorry, I'm just thinking Dad. Hey can I ask you something?"

"Uh sure." Please don't let her ask about s.e.x. No s.e.x. No s.e.x. No...

"Um, I don't want to upset you, but I'm curious about something." she asks.

"OKkkaayyyy. You're making nervous Stells. What's up? I promise to not flip out.... much."

"Um, OK. Here goes. How did you and my mother meet?" she questions with a wariness in her eyes.

Ouch. Did not expect that one, worse then s.e.x. Well almost. I guess I knew this day would come. I kinda thought maybe she would be content with dear old Dad and not ask too many questions. Suddenly I'm brought back to HER, and I almost smile, she always had that effect on me. Even after the lies and abandonment, I waited so long for her to come back to me. I was such a sucker.

"Why do you want to know that Stell?"

"Oh you know just curious, we've never actually talked about it; what it was like when you met? Was it love at first sight or did it happen later on? Stuff like that."

She's turned from me, staring out the window, phone forgotten in her hand. Serious questions aren't really our thing here.

She's never asked anything this specific before. It was always something like 'where'd she go?' 'Why did she not want us?', or 'how could she do that?'. Stella was never interested in the good parts, the beginning. Just the end.

As I watch her silhouette, I notice she most definitely looks different today. I can't quite put my finger on it but it's there. Her hair? She looks older somehow, more like her mother then ever before. How have I not noticed? It seemed to happen over night - where has the last 17 years gone? Without wanting to, I'm forced back, back to the beginning when I first met Helena. Even thinking about her still takes my breath away.

"Well, let's see. We met when I was attending a desperately dull nerd convention, as you would call it, in San Fran." Stella turns towards me, interest piqued. "I headed down to the hotel bar to grab a drink and some dinner, and she was sitting at the bar, all alone with this giant beer. I was surprised to see her drinking a beer, I don't know why really, but I guess I thought she should have been a white wine spritzer kinda gal, it made me laugh. She was just breathtaking. Long blonde hair. Beautiful. Just like you Stells," I give her a wink and she blushes.

G.o.d, she DOES look like her, I mean the hair is a different colour, but it's slightly wavy just the way hers was and all down her back. They have the same smile, which perhaps could be why I never really got over her, I see her everyday looking back at me. Helena always had an ethereal glow about her too. I could never explain it quite right but it was a feeling I got being around her. Looking at Stella I can feel the same glow. Perhaps I've finally lost it.

"C'mon Dad, don't embarra.s.s me. Geesh. Ok ok you can embarra.s.s me a little - back to the bar, we are both drop dead gorgeous, yes go on."

The way she smiles at me gets me every time. In that instant I know I raised her right, I know I did the best I could and I would never have it any other way. It's killing me to re-hash the past but it was bound to happen sooner or later.

"She was at the bar, so I sat next to her, and we just started chatting. We talked for hours until the bartender kicked us out, hitting it off straight away, like old friends - comfortable from the start. She was also insanely smart and funny, just like me," (Har Har) "so I guess you could say it was love at first sight. Well at least for me it was, I'm not sure she ever felt that way," I admit, pushing off from the door jam. I head towards the kitchen and start to prepare dinner, hoping I've answered enough. Stella turns back to look out the window with a distant look on her face.

"Is there something going on with you Stella? I mean, you really haven't been yourself lately and then a sudden interest in your mother? Do you need to talk about anything? I could call Age, or Maria if you wanted to talk to a woman about, well, woman stuff?"

"Thanks but I think I have all the 'girlie' issues covered Dad. Sorry to bring this up with you. I was just curious. Hey, you wanna watch a movie tonight? I heard they are running a slasher flick marathon on AMC."

"Sounds perfect," I say with a forced smile even though it feels like my stomach has turned to stone.

I head outside for some air and start the BBQ. My mind travels back to where I left off and what I could never tell my daughter. We did close the bar that night, and then we went back to my hotel room. I expected her to be gone in the morning but she wasn't, she stayed the entire weekend. Needless to say I didn't go back to the convention.

I left with heavy feet on Sunday. She said she would keep in touch but I knew better, at least I thought I did. I couldn't have been more surprised when she showed up on my doorstep two weeks later with a suitcase. I didn't hesitate, I grabbed her and never looked back.

It was the happiest I had ever been. We did everything together, attached at the hip. Inevitably she came to me with the news that she was pregnant. She seemed angry at first, which I chalked up to nerves and our short courtship. I thought maybe it was that we weren't married so I started saving and planned to propose as soon as I had the money for a ring.

I bought the ring two days before Stella was born. I never got a chance to give it to her. I was so nervous but not in a bad way. I knew she would say yes, but it's just something we guys get nervous about no matter how sure we are of the answer. Then Stella arrived early and the romance was thrown out the window.

There was never the perfect moment with dirty diapers and a crying baby. I remember the day she left just as clearly as if it was yesterday. It was a miserably rainy Tuesday, typical spring weather. She said she needed to get to the store for more formula. I said I would go, but she insisted. She had dark circles under her eyes; it had been a hard go the last two weeks. I thought she just needed some air and a little peace and quiet.

She kissed me and Stells Good-Bye and I swear I saw a flicker in her eyes. The flicker that later told me she wasn't ever coming back. She grabbed her coat and purse and that was the last I saw of her. I immediately thought she was kidnapped, in an accident, hurt or lost somewhere. There was no explanation for it. The police tried to calm me down and make me see the obvious conclusion - that she bolted. I wouldn't accept it and grew so agitated by them. My mother came over and basically sent me to my room to calm down.

Then I found the letter. It was rolled up like a scroll and tied with a red ribbon in my sock drawer. I could barely read the words; my hands were shaking so much. In a nutsh.e.l.l she didn't want this life, it wasn't what she signed up for. She loved me, but she's just not mother material. She couldn't stay, hoped I would understand in time, but I was never to try to find her. I never knew whether she noticed or not, but the note was tucked right next to the ring box. Maybe she found it and it scared her, maybe not, I'll never be sure. I felt so much guilt about it, like it was my fault. Maybe I was overbearing, crowding her; she was a free sprit and I was traditional and boring. I stopped beating myself up about it awhile ago, but I still think of her almost every day and wonder if we ever cross her mind.