Bowing Out Gracefully

Chapter 11
A New Year's Parlor Game

Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.
I'm just playing around in it for a while. Sadly, no profit can be received from this story.

Grace's frosty behavior towards Jesse continued another day, right up until they boarded the train for Boston. Whatever had been bothering her over the past couple days vanished, however, as she sat, gazing at the blurry scenery whizzing by. Jesse liked traveling the sleek, new, high-speed Metroliners Amtrak had put in service recently. They were quiet, clean, comfortable and wickedly fast: up to a hundred-fifty miles per hour on some stretches. Grace had experience riding the rails, too, but mostly when she was much younger and her family was stationed in Europe. As the hours passed, the colors changed from brown and gray to gray and white, with some evergreens adding a splash of color here and there.

Jesse's mind, however, was on another train trip he'd taken years before with Leslie, from London to Nice. It irritated him that he could not shake off memories of their time together. It also irritated him that he wanted to. Confused and feeling a bit down, he leaned his chair back and tried to nap.

It was dinnertime, but dark and frigid outside, when Jesse and Grace made it back to their flat. The short, two-block walk from the subway chilled them, and their residence hardly felt warmer when they entered. The ever-frugal Mrs. Hill had turned down the thermostat to fifty. Since the water pipes were safely enclosed in her warmer unit below, there was no risk of them freezing.

Jesse immediately turned up the heat and heard the radiators groaning to life a minute later. Grace raced to the kitchen to put a couple cups of water into the microwave. Five minutes later, she brought out cocoa for two and sat next to Jesse on the couch while he checked his mail. She called home to let her father know they had arrived safely. Both still had their heavy coat and hat on.

While Grace looked at the small pile of mail Jesse had set aside for her, she noticed he was opening a letter from Karin. She started to get up but Jesse held her back, saying he was still too cold. She laughed and sat back down. As Jesse started to read the letter, Grace attacked her own: two short notes from friends, a half-dozen Christmas cards, and a letter from…

"Shit! And I was having a good day," Grace griped, balling up the letter and throwing it across the room. "Ish," she explained, answering Jesse's questioning look. He gave her a rueful smile in return, holding up the letter from Karin.

"She wants to know why, Gracie," Jesse lamented. "What should I tell her? It wasn't going to work because she was a good friend, or because she made me feel good. I'm so pathetic. I can't believe I…" Jesse was stopped mid-sentence by Grace hitting him with a cushion. "What?"

"Stop feeling so sorry for yourself, or for Karin, for that matter. What's she want? To get back together?"

"No, not in so many words. She says she just doesn't understand."

"Great, Ish says the same thing. Maybe we should get those two together. No! Cancel that, I like Karin."

Jesse stood and removed his coat now that the room was warming up. Grace did likewise, handing it to him to hang up. When he returned, Jesse made to sit apart from Grace but she patted the spot he'd occupied a moment before. "Still too cold." Jesse shrugged and sat.

After an eternal and uncomfortable minute, Jesse asked Grace the question he'd been wondering about for months. "So…is this Ish guy a real loser, or what? It's hard to think he's so awful if you dated him for two years."

Grace rubbed her face and leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. "The first year was wonderful. He was the perfect gentleman," she laughed. "At least as much as a sophomore in high school can be. But between tenth and eleventh grade he changed. He became demanding and possessive. I mean, not stalker kind of possessive, just always wanted to be with me."

"And that's strange? Sounds like dating to me."

"I know, and it's also why it took so long for me to realize it wasn't good. I never had time to myself. I couldn't be me. Even when we swam – you knew we were on the same swim team, right? Ish was always there."

Jesse could hear the frustration in his friend's voice; feel her tensing up where their arms and legs touched. He ventured a personal question. "How was he demanding?"

Grace shot him a resigned look that said as much as the words that followed. "What do you think, Jess? He wanted to do it," then she added hastily, "and he got…moody when I refused, like it was my fault he wasn't being fulfilled. Typical male bullshit."

"Hey!"

"Not you, Jess. I can't see you ever being like that. You're too nice."

"Ahhh!" Jesse cried out, standing. Dramatically covering his heart, he fell to the floor. Below, Mrs. Hill yelled for quiet. "The curse of every guy, to be known to a girl as…nice."

Grace gave him a warm smile and Jesse could tell she appreciated the distraction from painful memories. She held out a hand to help him up and returned to the couch.

"Look, Gracie, he didn't, um, you know…hurt you, did he? I can borrow one of Toby's assault rifles and…" He didn't finish, Grace pushed him over, laughing at the absurdity of the statement.

"No, Sir Galahad, but thanks."

Rising, Grace gathered her things and started to her bedroom. Behind her, she heard Jesse stand. "Grace Jacobs," he said quietly. She stopped but didn't turn. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me, too, Jesse Aarons. Me, too. Goodnight."

Later, in her room, bundled against the cold and trying to keep herself from thinking about Jesse by reading a magazine, Grace gave up and called out. "Hey, Jess, still awake?"

"Yeah, sorta." His voice was muffled by the wall separating the rooms.

"When are you and Leslie going to get back together?"

Grace waited for a minute, then two. The only sound she heard was the click from Jesse's lamp being shut off.

"No, not unless I have a degree. The only thing they'll let me do is post flyers around advertising myself as an English lit or grammar tutor….I know, but I don't want to drive into Roanoke every day….I know! Look, I'm stopping by the middle school to see Mr. Hrdy, I'll be back in a couple hours. Yeah, I will. Bye."

Happy to finish the call to her mother about her latest failure finding a job, Leslie turned off her cell phone and ducked inside a partially enclosed bus stop next to Lark Creek High School. It provided scant relief from the bitter wind and spitting sleet, but it was better than nothing. Putting her gloves back on, Leslie leaned into the wind and continued on.

Over the past few days, since she had last seen Jesse, Leslie had been searching for something to take her mind off her ex-boyfriend. Nothing had worked. Without the diversions of travel and acting, there was little to do in Lark Creek. Even the farm was mostly inactive, except the hour or two a day milking and feeding the cows and gathering eggs. Leslie had even visited Mary Aarons to see if there was something – anything - she could do for her, but with Ellie, Toby and their child temporarily staying at the house, she explained kindly that she had all the help needed.

The growing sense of frustration pushed Leslie to look for a job in town, but her pride would not let her work for minimum wage – the only positions available. Her now former agent in Hollywood had promised to mention her name if some writing or editing gigs appeared, but after Leslie had dropped her acting career she thought it highly unlikely he would do anything. That was the nature of the business world.

Later that same evening, Leslie sat with her brother, Anton, and Brenda, talking about her future. She was disappointed to see that her sister-in-law still bore traces of her younger, snobbish self. A fact that made Anton's marriage to her something of a surprise. Upstairs, Janice – Jan - and Jimmy watched TV, their parents having broken down and purchased a television when the boy was first diagnosed with Leukemia. Bill and Judy were together in Baxley, a nearby town, along with Jack and Mary Aarons and a dozen other families in their farm co-op for the annual business meeting.

The conversation that night, unlike others, kept turning back to Brenda's oldest brother. It wasn't always overt, in fact, his name was seldom mentioned, but Leslie understood the vague references and side looks. Finally, in a fit of anger, she stormed off to her room and locked the door.

Sitting in bed, Leslie knew she had to resolve the situation with Jesse. It was obvious he was moving on with his life, while her pride and shame was destroying her own. In addition, it was rapidly destroying any chance of them being together again. She also knew she would have to make the first move.

Jumping off the bed, Leslie went to her laptop and opened her email application. She started a new message, addressed it to Jesse…and sat. Thirty minutes later, the only things she had put down (and not erased) were a few extraneous characters and the word "sorry." Disgusted she could find nothing else to say, she threw down a pencil she'd been chewing on and slammed her laptop shut.

New Year's Eve in Boston was bitterly cold, and spits of sleet stung their face as Jesse and Grace walked the two blocks to the edge of MassArt's campus for a party. The venue was a house rented by a group of eight guys Jesse knew from school and who had been inviting him over all year. Thinking it would be good for Grace to get more of a feel for college life, he'd asked her a few weeks earlier to go with him and she immediately accepted. Now she was not so certain.

"And you'll introduce me to everyone, right?"

"Yes, Grace."

"And you promise not to leave me with any creeps, right?"

Jesse rolled his eyes. "Yes, Grace."

"What should I do if a guy hits on me?"

"WHAT?!" Jesse stopped. "Grace, what did you do at high school dances if a guy hit on you?"

"Uh, I usually walked away. But…"

"Then walk away here, too. These guys are pretty civilized, really." He laughed offering her another alternative: "Or if you want a real boring time, hang around with me."

Grace ignored this. "What about alcohol?"

"Gracie! You're a big girl, if you want to have a beer, have a beer. I don't think they'll be serving anything hard…liquor, Grace. Whiskey, rum those things. They're too expensive for us poor college kids."

Grace gave him a dubious smile as they turned the corner and found the party house with a line of guests coming out the door. On the porch, wearing only shorts and a school sweater, one of the residents waved to Jesse and whistled at Grace. She blushed. Then he fell over the railing into an evergreen, but popped right up and proclaimed himself unhurt.

The night started off well, Grace thought. The house was crammed and the music loud, but no one was being obnoxious – her primary concern. Jesse made a big show out of introducing her to the residents and it helped Grace feel comfortable. Even the raised eyebrows and surreptitious winks amused her. After introductions, he started pointing out others he knew.

"See that guy over there, picking his ass? We call him retread, for obvious reasons. The couple in matching jeans and oxford shirts, they're...ahem...well, Mike's from Texas and we call him Tex. Judy's always hanging on him so we call her, um, Co-Tex." Grace burst into laughter; Jesse continued: "The tall guy plays basketball and somehow got the name Nad...Get it?" Grace looked perplexed. "So when he's playing we can shout, go Nad!"

"Jesse! You're definitely hanging around too many guys."

"Probably...um, there's Karin...maybe we should smile and wave, we're all friends here." Grace didn't feel like it and turned herself and Jesse away so they wouldn't be seen. "Yeah, probably a better idea. Anyway, let's see. That's Sarge," he said, pointing to stocky and muscular woman. "Becca, the blonde over there is one of our regular models and a part-time student."

Grace appraised her. "Nude model?"

"Yeah, sometimes. But I've never seen...um, drawn her," he added hastily.

"What a shame," Grace commented, though Jesse couldn't quite make out how she meant it.

Wandering around, they came across a keg of beer. The line was short and Jesse maneuvered them into it. When their turn came, he handed Grace two clear plastic cups. "Try some?"

"Why not."

He filled Grace's glass half full and his all the way. Moving about some more they arrived in a room Jesse called the gallery. Grace was stunned. The walls of the former formal dining room were covered, floor to ceiling, with every type of painting, drawing, sketch, watercolor (and a few pieces of sculpture hanging precariously or perched on rickety stands).

"This is where the guys put all their rejects."

"Rejects? You have to be joking, Jess; some of these are great."

"Maybe. The guys will be happy to know you like it."

Grace spent the next half hour looking at each work of art, and Jesse stood back and watched her, glad she was more comfortable. He also noticed she hadn't had any discernable amount of beer. As eleven o'clock approached, Jesse said he was going to see some people, leaving Grace to continue admiring the wide range of styles. Shortly after Jesse left, she felt the presence of another person in the room. When she saw who it was she nearly walked out.

"Ms. Jacobs, is it?" Clayton Branch asked, looking aloofly over her head at a poor imitation Picasso. He was overdressed for a casual party in coat and tie. "Don't you hate crap art?"

"It's not all bad. Don't you see anything you like?"

Branch turned to survey the entire room. It took a couple minutes. "Maybe. Are you another starving Rembrandt wannabe, Ms. Jacobs?"

"No, I'm working to earn..."

"Oh yes, you're modeling..." Branch interrupted, not that Grace disliked being compared to a model. "I have that girl's watercolor of you hanging in my den. She has promise."

Not caring much for his haughty tone, Grace tried to ignore the man, but he persisted.

"A wager, Ms. Jacobs? Can I interest you in a wager? It will cost you nothing but a few minutes of your time." Just as he had on the street weeks earlier, Branch pulled out a wallet and counted out some bills, setting them on a pedestal with a truly bad copy of...something. Grace couldn't see them all, but at least two of the bills were hundreds.

"You like doing that, don't you?"

"Why not? Daddy's rich and it's fun. At least the money goes to the students who need it."

"I'm not a student," she pointed out, again.

"Yes, but your clothing say you're in need of some extra cash."

Grace shook her head, clearly disgusted. "Okay, then, what's the game this time?"

"Pick out my favorite piece in this room and the money's yours."

For the first time, Grace noticed that there were more than a few people looking in the two doorways to the room. She had the feeling this was not an uncommon occurrence with Branch. Yet, money was money, and she had an excellent hand to play. Turing to the wall behind her, Grace touched a painting of two kittens playing. When she turned around, Clayton Branch was flabbergasted.

"How?" he managed to gasp. Behind them, the audience murmured.

"Pretty good for a female, isn't it?"

He asked again, only slightly less stunned. "How'd you know?"

Grace picked up the money: Three hundred fifty dollars! "You made it easy. This wall was the only one you spent any amount of time looking over; I know you like watercolors more than oils and pencils; there are only five watercolors, and I know you like cats."

"How the hell do you…?" Branch stopped mid-sentence. He was wearing a tie with a cat on it. "I guess I made that one too easy." With a determined look on his face he took out his wallet again and removed all the remaining bills – it made a tempting pile of loot. "It's yours if you can point out the three works in this room that I contributed."

Grace laughed - the man was clearly flustered. "Don't you worry, carrying all that cash around with you?"

"No."

Shrugging, Grace looked around the room again, taking her time. After ten minutes, Branch laughed and asked her if she was giving up. Instead of replying verbally, Grace removed two watercolors from the wall and handed them over. Branch's face turned red in anger and frustration, but he said, "Two doesn't do it. What's the third?"

"That piece of shit on the pedestal. I would hand it to you but it looks like it's about to fall apart."

Clayton Branch threw down the two paintings he held, turned, and walked out of the room. A moment later, the crowd of spectators began to cheer and clap. Grace blushed, made a dramatic little bow, and took her prize, sad to see it was all smaller bills. Then she left the room and went to find Jesse.

"I hear you showed-up Branch," Jesse said as Grace approached him a bit later. "Not bad; most people are intimidated by him."

"Ha! Karin was right, he's a chauvinistic jerk."

"Pig."

"Huh?"

"Karin said he was a chauvinistic pig."

Grace laughed, conceding the point.

"How'd you do it?"

Grace explained the first bet and that it was pretty simple to identify his favorite. Jesse laughed at the idea the macho fellow was such a cat lover. Then he asked about the second bet.

"Jesse, even you would have figured that one out!" she teased, patting his arm. "His name is Clayton Branch." Jesse just stared at her dumbly. "Clayton Branch, Jess…C.B. He initialed all his stuff CB."

In a moment, Jesse laughed so loudly everyone around him turned to see what the joke was about. "Not so smart, is he?"

Grace smiled. "No, and it cost him more than five hundred dollars! I think we should celebrate."

Jesse smiled as a group of partiers descended upon Grace, having heard about Branch, asking of her secret. She was led off and he dropped the smile. His friend had sounded just like Karin the first time they had…

No, that isnot going to happen.

As midnight approached, Grace noticed people pairing up to give the closest partygoers a New Year kiss. A guy she hadn't met was passing out Champagne in cheap plastic stem-glasses. Grace took the one he offered and looked for Jesse. Not finding him, she backed into a corner to have the fewest possible neighbors. When the countdown began, she nearly punched a guy who was obviously trying to get close to her.

"Fifteen… Fourteen…" the crowd shouted.

"Ouch! Gracie, what the hell are you doing?" Jesse shouted over the three-dozen or so partiers nearby. She had turned away and "accidentally" elbowed the unrecognized person approaching: Jesse.

"Ten… Nine…"

"Ohmygod, sorry, Jess."

"Eight… Seven…"

"'S okay. It wasn't intentional…was it?" he asked, smiling.

"Six… Five… Four…"

"No, of course not. Here, come here," she instructed, pulling on Jesse's arm and using him as a shield of sorts.

"Three… Two… "

Standing next to his friend, her arm looped in with his own, Jesse felt a warmth and comfort long missing from his life. He closed his eyes and sighed as the last number was shouted.

"ONE… HAPPY NEW YEAR…!"

All around them, partiers were clasping each other on the back, kissing their friends, giving 'manly' hugs, sloshing beer on the floor, and jostling one another. Grace and Jesse stood still, simply smiling and nodding at those who approached, neither seeming to want to release the other. Across the room, Jesse saw something that startled and upset him more than he thought it should: Karin Bennett was kissing a person he knew from one of his classes. Then she disappeared back into the hoard of guests.

"Jess?" It was Grace. "Was that Karin over there?"

"Um, yeah."

"You okay?"

He looked down and gave a little smile. "Yeah, I guess. Look, you want to go?"

Grace didn't even have to answer. Jesse could see she was not comfortable at a place where she didn't know anyone. She downed the Champagne in one long swig, eyes bulging as to make Jesse laugh, set the cup on a table and followed him out.

The walk home was colder and windier than earlier that evening, and the quick shot of wine made Grace's head spin a little. Jesse, who had also had a couple beers, seemed uncommonly giddy as she told him stories of the people she'd met. By the time they were back to the flat, both were chilled to the bone and sat on the couch covered with a large comforter Grace had received for Christmas.

"God, it's cold here. Why didn't you tell me that when I said I wanted to live in Boston?" Grace asked, rubbing her hands together and then on her legs to warm herself. Jesse, more used to the cold, told her to quit complaining. With that, Grace covered her head, giggling.

"I'm tired, Jess," Grace suddenly proclaimed, jumping up and shedding her winter outer garments. "Off to bed I go."

Amused that the small amount of alcohol could make her so tipsy, Jesse called after her, "Don't forget to pee and brush."

Grace disappeared into her room, exiting again after a minute of loud giggles. She wore heavy flannel pajamas and headed to the bathroom. Jesse noticed her bottoms were on backwards, the drawstrings flapping like twin tails behind her. While his flatmate used the loo, Jesse picked up their coats and headed to bed himself, but met Grace in the narrow hallway. She was still giggling and blocking the way. Finally, he backed against the wall and let her pass. Five minutes later, he could still hear her giggles as she talked to herself in her room. Concerned, Jesse knocked on her door.

"Come in!"

"You okay, Gracie?" She obviously was not.

"I'm FINE! Hehehe. Jesse, come sit here." She patted the edge of her bed. He sat. "I never got to give anyone a kiss for Yew Near." Pouting, she closed her eyes and seemed to fade in and out of consciousness.

Uh-oh, someone slipped her something he realized. "Grace, you go to sleep, okay? I'll...we'll figure it out in the morning." That should be interesting!

"Prooooom-isssse?"

"Yeah. Goodnight."

Before he'd left the room, Grace started snoring.