2002
"Can I talk to you about something?"
The question had been asked so many times over the years, it didn't take long to catch onto the cues, to know exactly where she was going with this. The way she sighed as though she was about to go through with a last resort. The way she closed her eyes as if bracing herself for the worst. The way she would tiptoe around the issue for a few moments before finally getting to the point. It happened whenever she was thinking about getting serious, whenever she had already gotten serious but was starting to have second thoughts. It happened whenever she was looking for a way out. Every single time she asked, she made it sound like this was a bad idea, like she already regretted asking before the answer had even been given.
But every single time, there was something in her eyes that looked like trust. And after five years, Karen resigned herself to the fact that she would never be immune to it.
At some point in every relationship she had in the time she knew Karen, Grace would come to her for an honest opinion. Karen could acknowledge that she wasn't great at it at first; she hadn't known Grace well enough yet to give any real thought to Danny and how bad of a match he really was. But she got better as she got to know her. She didn't know where the hell Grace found Josh, and she gladly told her so; Grace seemed more annoyed than anything when she was with him. She liked seeing Grace so happy with Ben, even if she wasn't sure how either of them would fit in the other's world in the long run. And then there was Nathan. God, she was so sure about Nathan. He was quirky and fun, and she was positive that the one Grace never thought she'd go for would be the one who stuck. They did the I love yous. They were living together, and he and Will hadn't killed each other. He got along with everyone; there was a balance. It all seemed so imperfectly perfect, finding happiness inside of the unexpected.
She couldn't believe she had been wrong about him. She knew Grace couldn't believe it, either.
Karen wasn't entirely sure what happened to cause such a dramatic turn to happen so quickly. But she saw the aftermath, and she couldn't stand it. The way Grace just shut down after he ended things. Locked in her room for three days. No light, no appetite. Cycling through old photographs, convinced she was going to find the part of her past that ended up dictating her present. Her clothes were stale, her hair was a tangled nest of red, and she looked at Karen like she was so tired of crying but didn't know what else to do. It was jarring to see her like that, when Karen was so used to the vibrant, passionate woman she had come to know and love. She never wanted Grace to hurt that way again.
So if she had to give a little advice from time to time, just to make sure Grace wouldn't hurt like that, that's what she was going to do.
Karen never did understand why Grace thought she could help. She could only assume it was because she's been married to Stan for so long; she just wished Grace could see that the key to her long marriage was distance. The less she knew about Stanley's comings and goings, the longer they were going to last; it was that simple. It wasn't a flawless plan-she had to suck it up when Stan did things that landed him in prison, suggested things like sleeping around while he stayed in prison. And she had to live with the fact that she became a person who considered things like sleeping around while her husband stayed in prison-but it worked, somehow. It just didn't make her a viable candidate for guidance. She had no real, meaningful words of wisdom to offer Grace. She had no anecdotes, no constructive examples from her marriage that would shine any kind of light. What exactly would she say? Stan throws money at his problems; Karen drinks away hers. She didn't know the first thing about healthy relationships.
But that didn't mean she wouldn't try, if it meant she could ease Grace's mind.
She couldn't help but become protective of the redhead over the years; but when she thought about it, it was only natural. Grace deserved better than the men she usually dated, but she almost never sought it out. And then after a few months of the charade, after the flirting and the looks and that thing she always did where she'd toss her hair when she laughed, even if she was talking to him over the phone, she would realize she was wasting her time. Or she would get blindsided by the revelation that he wasn't on the same page as she was. Or some strange combination of the two. And the question would change from being about the relationship to being about how to move on from the relationship. How to process it all. How to stop hurting. How to get over the embarrassment. How to live with a bad decision.
There was something else, too, something that peeked its head around the corner every once in a while when they were alone. That girl's night early in their friendship, with a little too much tequila, when she woke up with Grace's clothes on her body and Grace's body resting gently on top of her. The morning after she first visited Stan in prison, waking up to find Grace beside her because she didn't want to be alone. It made her think that if there was ever a time when Grace tossed her hair and laughed in her direction, she'd probably give in. Because Karen had to be honest; it was kind of endearing.
Then, of course, there was that kiss, the one that was supposed to prove just how deep in it Grace was with this new guy. It was her own fault for pushing it that far; she just didn't think Grace would actually go for it. But then the redhead took her face into her hands. But then the redhead's lips collided with her own. But then the redhead made her weak in the knees and follow the taste of that kiss even after Grace pulled away. Karen played it off like it was nothing, joked about how Grace was screwed even though she was secretly questioning if she joked about the right person, if she was joking at all. The kiss didn't seem to set off the same things in Grace that it did in her. But maybe it was a show. Maybe she was better at saving face than Karen thought she was. Maybe she was waiting for a sign that it was okay. Maybe Karen was kidding herself.
Maybes made Karen crazy. It was better if she didn't think about it.
And now, here they were, about to start the cycle again, with a question that would have sounded so innocent if it weren't for the memory of every other time it had been asked. Can I talk to you about something? Karen saw Grace fidgeting in front of her, pursing her lips, wringing her hands, letting her gaze fall to the ground like the weight of the question was too heavy for her to keep her head up. She knew this dance. She knew to let her make these moves, get a little more comfortable, work up her nerve.
"Look, I wouldn't normally bother you with this," Grace finally said, even though they both knew by now that it was a lie. "But Will and I are still...recovering, I guess. Leo's a sensitive subject right now. I just need someone to talk to."
Leo. The man who rode in on a white horse to blind Grace from the path she thought she wanted, one she would have taken with Will, one that would have welcomed a tiny new member into their family (good lord, where was the question for that subject? She would have been able to save everyone a lot of trouble). The fact that she thought she had to hide his existence from Will at all should have been a red flag. The fact that she was so torn up about keeping up the secret should have made her think twice. Karen wasn't sure if Grace was still seeing him because she liked him, or because he caused such a huge rift in her world that to give up now would have made everything that came before it pointless. And she wasn't sure if Grace even figured out her reasons yet.
Which made it the perfect time to ask her question.
Until now, Karen could group each guy's problems into one pile full of similarities. It was almost like a bargain bin compilation record, full of songs that all sounded the same and clearly weren't worth it. But she would make her way through each track whenever Grace asked her to. There was Danny's "Sad Songs for Childish Lovers," filled with one hundred different ways to express how immature he was. Josh's soundtrack was packed with songs that were gentle and awkward, because that's all their relationship was. Sometimes, Karen swore she could see Grace physically struggle to come up with reasons why she was sticking with him. Her problems with Ben were scored by something that sounded too ambitious for its own good. And Nathan...well. Those songs always sounded chaotically hopeful. Until he stopped playing them altogether.
Karen could only imagine what kind of problems Grace would come to her with, when it came to Leo. Which songs would be put on repeat. How many times they would study the lyrics until they started to make sense. She couldn't get a solid read on him, even when she tried. God, this guy better be worth it.
But she doubted it.
She just didn't get a good feeling from him. She thought he was smug when he had absolutely no room to be. She didn't think he was nearly as funny as he thought he was. He got too comfortable too quickly, especially when the redhead was still on the mend with her best friend. She was hoping that Grace could eventually feel it, too, once the newness of it all faded and she was left with a prince who was less than charming. But until then, she would do what she always did whenever the question was asked.
"Well, sure, honey," she said as she watched Grace pull a chair up to her desk. She rested her chin on her hand and offered up the same smile she always did when the redhead asked for an ear. "Tell me all about it." She saw Grace take a breath like she needed a spare moment to collect her thoughts. And as she listened to Grace start to pour her heart out, Karen wondered how long it would take for Leo to let her down, putting on a smile to hide all the doubts history created in her mind.
It would all play itself out soon enough; of that, she was sure. There was no way Leo Markus was going to last.