Don’t Let Me Go(108)

Grace



Grace heard Yolanda let herself in with her spare key. It was the key that used to belong to Grace, only now Grace’s mom figured Grace wouldn’t need a key any more, since she never went anywhere by herself.

Grace was lying on her belly on the plywood dance floor — because it was cleaner than the rug — doing homework. The Lewis and Clark expedition and Sacagawea. Grace was writing an essay about how the woman didn’t get enough credit in the history books. Like what’s new?

Yolanda came and stood over her.

“History?” Yolanda asked.

“Yup.”

“I used to like history.”

“I hate it.”

“Don’t you ever dance any more?”

“Not so much, no. I got tired of doing that same dance over and over. I asked my mom if I could take lessons, but she says we can’t afford it. Are you here to go to the meeting with us? For her one-year anniversary? You’re pretty early. It’s not for, like, two hours.”

Yolanda squatted down and put a hand on Grace’s back.

“We need to do her fifth step first.”

“Which one is that?”

“Grace. I can’t believe, after all the meetings you go to, you don’t know the steps.”

“Nobody said I had to listen.”

“The fourth step is the one everybody hates…”

“Oh, right. The inventory. The one where you have to write out all your character defects. Oh, wait, I know. Then the fifth step is the one where you have to tell them all to your sponsor or somebody.”

“And that’s the one thing I absolutely insist on as a sponsor. Any sponsee of mine has to finish her fourth step in the first year.”

“Oh, well, that explains a lot,” Grace said. “Good thing she didn’t put it off till the last minute or anything.”

“Well, you know your mom.”

“I can hear you guys!” Grace’s mom yelled from her bedroom.

Yolanda rolled her eyes ceiling-ward.

“Stay here, don’t come in the bedroom. Muchos privacy required for this one.”

Grace ratcheted her voice into a scrunched-down whisper.

“Are you going to tell her it’s a character defect to not let me see my friends?”

“I can’t really tell her too much,” Yolanda whispered back. “She kinda has to tell me. But if it comes up, I won’t be shy about sharing my opinion.”

? ? ?

They came out of the bedroom after seven thirty, past the time they should have left to get a good seat at the birthday meeting. Grace’s mom was being too quiet, and looking mostly at the carpet, so Grace figured it must’ve been a tough deal in there.

Yolanda elbowed Grace’s mom in the ribs twice, but nothing happened, so she said, “Grace. Your mom has something she wants to say to you.”

Grace sat up cross-legged on her old dance floor and pulled the cat close.

Grace expected her mom to come sit with her, but she never did. She just stood by the kitchen counter, running her finger along the edge where that one tile was missing.

“Shouldn’t I wait and do all the amends together when we get to the ninth step?”

“Eileen,” Yolanda said. “Your daughter is right here in front of you. Make the damn amends.”

Grace’s mom sighed dramatically.

“OK. Fine. Grace. It came up while I was doing the steps with Yolanda that it was kind of mean and selfish of me to take you away from those people.”

“You can say names, Mom. You don’t have to keep calling them ‘those people.’”

“Well, what difference does it make, Grace?”

But Yolanda shot her a tough sponsor look.

“OK. Fine. To take you away from Billy and Rayleen and the others.”

Grace waited. But it didn’t sound like there was more.

“And?”

“And…I know it was very hard on you, and it made you droopy and sad.”

“So…”

“So I’m telling you I’m sorry.”

“But you’re not changing your mind.”

“I’m telling you I’m sorry.”

“But you’re not. You’re not sorry. If you were sorry, you’d stop doing it.”

“Oh, my God,” Grace’s mom said, turning to Yolanda for support. “You see what I put up with here?”

“Don’t come crying to me,” Yolanda said. “I’m with Grace. Sorry doesn’t mean shit. Not if you don’t plan to stop doing the thing you’re so sorry about. There has to be more to amends than just a word. Anybody can say a damn word.”

Grace’s mom squeezed her eyes closed, like the way she did when she was counting to ten to keep from losing her temper. Then she opened them and said, “It’s never enough, is it? Whatever I manage to do, it’s just never enough.”

“Well, that’s recovery for you,” Yolanda said, not sounding too sympathetic. “We better get to this meeting. You just edgy cause it’s your year? Lot of people get edgy when they come up on a year.”

“Maybe,” Grace’s mom said. “I have been feeling a little squirrelly lately.”