I'm seriously considering throwing myself a party. I'm posting this chapter a whole day before I was planning to. That's a first, folks. Happy reading.
Chapter 8
Grace lasted three weeks and two days after her graduation. Twenty three days without a drink is a lot for a budding alcoholic, and Grace was rather proud. She decided to celebrate.
Halfway through her celebratory glass of cheap champagne, Grace noticed a fatal flaw in her plan. Celebrating almost a month without liquor by getting drunk did very little good. In fact, Grace thought as she polished off the glass, it did quite a bit of harm.
Grace woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and a new resolve. Clearly, her old resolve to give up drinking after graduating wasn't working. She would simply have to learn to control herself. She would only drink at night, and only twice a week, at most. She wouldn't drink for the hell of it, either. She would only get drunk if she was provoked.
Grace felt good about this. She went to work in a good mood.
xxxxx
It turns out that Grace is the type of person who is easily provoked. She is also the kind of person who refuses to ask for help. This is a deadly combination.
Grace always found a reason to open the liquor cabinet two times a week. If the week was drawing toward the end, and she hadn't gotten drunk twice yet, she would suddenly find herself annoyed by the ugly billboard that had been beneath her notice the day before, or pissed of because McDonalds continued to use styrofoam, and she would be "forced" to drink. She had, after all, been provoked.
Grace always took her two nights of empty drinking and blissful silence.
xxxxx
Grace's new resolve lasted throughout summer and fall. She controlled her habit—not her addiction, mind you, because Grace Polk was not addicted—carefully. No one at the paper she worked at suspected a thing, because Grace always finished her articles before she got drunk, and absolutely never showed up looking like she had a hangover. She controlled her twitches, never begging people to keep quiet as sitcom characters did when they were hung-over. A small part of Grace was even glad she suffered on these mornings; it was her punishment for the last night's weakness.
Unfortunately, as fall turned into winter, her nights of weakness started increasing. Realizing that she wouldn't last Thanksgiving weekend without alcohol, Grace told everyone she was working on a big article for the paper, and stayed in New York for the holiday.
Later, Grace would think that she should have expected Joan to show up the Friday after Thanksgiving. Joan did not take disappointment well, and she had complained loudly when Grace broke the news that she was staying home for the holiday.
Luckily, Grace really was working on an article when Joan showed up on her doorstep, so Grace's lie was never discovered.
"This is a nice place, Grace," Joan said as she settled onto the couch. "How did you afford this without a roommate? I thought prices in New York were through the roof."
"They are," Grace said. "Almost all my paycheck goes into this place. Just enough left over for food." …and beer, Grace thought, but didn't say aloud.
"I'm guessing you don't go shopping much," Joan said.
"Did I ever?"
"Good point," Joan laughed.
Joan then launched into a long story about her attempts to find a suitable job. Since graduating, she had worked in a fast food restaurant, been a secretary for a hot-shot lawyer and worked as a supervisor at Border's. She was now thinking of becoming a substitute teacher.
"Why not just be a real teacher?" Grace asked.
"Too much responsibility," Joan said seriously. "I'd rather be that cool sub that everyone likes. I could be the campus substitute, remember those? Those people that take over for short periods of time when teachers have meetings or whatever?"
"I hated those people," Grace said.
"Well, I would be a good one. They would love me."
Though Grace would never say so, she had to agree.
xxxxx
Grace drove back to Arcadia for the first night of Hanukah, and her dad drove out to New York for the last. It was just the two of them, and Grace was happier than she had been in at least a year. They talked about trivial things, complaining about stupid people and the stupid things they did, and debated politics. Under these easy chats, both of them were content.
Grace's drinking abated somewhat after the holiday. She still drank, of course, but she only drank to take the edge off; she no longer passed out from the alcohol.
xxxxx
Grace had half-expected Joan to show up the day after Christmas. Part of her wasn't even surprised that Adam had made the journey.
No part of her was prepared for Luke's appearance.
"Girardi!" she gasped when she saw him. Two heads turned toward her.
"Young Girardi," she amended. "What are you doing here?"
"Nice to see you, too, Grace," he said sarcastically.
"Now who's Cindy rubbing off on?" Joan asked wickedly.
"Wait," Grace broke in, "you not saying that Luke is actually going out with the Baywatch Science Queen, right?"
"You remember that?" Adam asked, surprised.
"Do you care?" Joan asked at the same time, oddly excited.
"Just because I don't have an eidetic memory doesn't mean I blunder about, unable to remember simple conversations, Adam," Grace said nastily.
"Told you we shouldn't've surprised her," Adam said to Joan. "She doesn't like surprises."
"Shut up, Adam, I already told you, this is the way we do things," she retorted.
"Yes, and for reasons passing understanding," Luke remarked.
Grace decided it was time to take control. If this continued, she might find herself so provoked that she would be sneaking tequila into whatever she was drinking that night. And Grace hated resorting to use her mom's old tricks.
"I don't have room for you all," she said bluntly. "How long are you going to be here?"
"I'm moving to New York, Grace," Adam said lightly. She rounded on him.
"You're moving to New York," she repeated, shocked. "And you're just now mentioning it."
"It never came up," Adam said sheepishly.
"Right. Okay. I'm this close to killing you, you know that right?" she asked conversationally. She showed him her thumb and forefinger, spread half an inch apart.
Adam nodded.
"Alright, then," she continued, "let's work this out. Do you have an apartment? Are the Super Siblings staying with you?" she added hopefully.
"The what?" Joan and Luke exclaimed together, scandalized.
"Ah," Adam said quietly, "that's the problem. I can't… well, apartments are really expensive, Grace. I can't really afford to live in the city."
"But you just said you're moving here," she said slowly.
"Um, see, by 'here' I meant, well, here," Adam said, pointing to the ground.
Comprehension dawned. Grace was actually speechless.
"Isn't it great?" Joan asked happily. "You said it yourself, Grace, you can barely afford this place."
"There's only one bedroom," Grace pointed out, deciding not to mention the larger problems with this plan.
"I still can't believe you're springing it on her like this," Luke muttered. "You can't just tell someone you're moving in as though it were a long-standing agreement. It doesn't work like that. I should have called ahead, given her some sort of warning."
They ignored him. Luke, either not noticing this or not caring, continued to complain under his breath.
"Grace, you need a roommate," Joan said over Luke's mutterings.
"I do not."
"I'm worried about you, Grace," she said.
"You don't need to be," Grace said quickly, "I'm fine."
"Sure you are," Joan said automatically. "But I still worry."
"Why?" This time, both Grace and Adam spoke.
"Do I need a reason?" she countered.
Three heads nodded. Luke had stopped his tirade, and was part of the conversation once more.
"Well, I don't have one, exactly," Joan said softly. "I just… have this idea. I never talk to you anymore, Grace. I don't know what's going on with you. I… have this feeling."
Not for the first time, Grace suspected Joan knew more than she let on, and was angry as hell about it.
"Girardi!" she almost yelled. This time, only Luke reacted. "Join me in the kitchen. I'm getting us all drinks. You must be thirsty. And for God's sake, sit down," she motioned to Adam and Joan.
Adam jumped slightly in surprise, apparently unaware that the four of them had just had a rather lengthy conversation in Grace's entryway. Joan sat down huffily.
"Grace," Luke began when they had reached to kitchen.
"What did you say to her, Girardi," she interrupted in a hiss. "Why is she forcing Adam on me?"
"Nothing, Grace, I swear."
She stared at him.
"I keep secrets well, Grace. You can trust me. You know that."
Grace considered the facts. Joan knew something was different about her, knew that Grace was hiding something. Only Luke could possibly have a clue about her secret. Luke and Joan talked. Luke could have easily told Joan about the night he met Alex. It's the only logical way for Joan to guess Grace had a problem. Having made up her mind, she was ready to tear Luke to shreds.
Before she could open her mouth, though, Luke's words echoed in her mind. You can trust me. You know that. And she did. As convinced as she was that only Luke could have blabbed her secret to Joan, Grace was convinced that he would never betray her like that. Luke just didn't do that sort of thing. Before, when they were together, he had understood her, and Grace suspected that even now, over four years after the break-up, he understood her in a way no one else did.
But why? she asked herself, before shaking her head slightly and returning to the situation at hand.
"Fine," she snapped. "Let's say I believe you," she chose not to see the happiness that flicked across Luke's face, "let's say that Joan has suddenly become clairvoyant. That doesn't change the fact that there isn't room for you guys to stay here. I still only have one bedroom."
"But you forget that I have a credit card, Grace, and that there is a hotel room just down the street."
"I love you," she blurted out. A chorus of ohshit-ohshit-ohshit-ohshit erupted in her mind.
"Wh-what?" he said weakly.
"Get a grip, Girardi," she said, faintly panicked, "I was just joking."
"Oh."
Feeling there was very little left to say, Grace went back into the living room. Joan and Adam were talking about his plans to get his art into some New York studios, and flirting gently. Grace wondered briefly if they would ever get together again, before deciding that they were better as friends.
"So tell me, Rove, were you serious about moving in with me?" she asked sharply, not bothering to sit down on the couch.
"I didn't know there was only one bedroom," he said.
"How is that an answer?" Joan asked indignantly.
But Grace smiled. Adam truly was a great friend.
"I'll help you find a place," Grace offered. "Working at the paper means you see all the ads for apartments before they hit the streets. We'll find you the best deal."
Adam smiled her, and Grace couldn't help smiling back.
xxxxx
Grace thoroughly enjoyed the next day. Luke dragged Joan to some science museum, getting them both out of her hair, and she and Adam spent the better part of the afternoon looking for his apartment.
They arrived back at Grace's place with enough pizza to feed them all. Joan greeted them ecstatically; a day with Luke in a museum is trying.
"It's fantastic, Adam," Joan squealed when he showed her a photo of his new home. Luke and Grace winced slightly.
"If she squealed any higher, only dogs would hear her," Luke whispered in Grace's ear. She bit back a laugh.
"It's a studio apartment," Adam said proudly.
"When are you moving in?" Luke asked.
"Just after the New Year," Adam answered. "My dad's gonna help me bring my stuff up here."
"I bet he'll be glad to get his shed back," Grace remarked.
"Actually, he said he wasn't going to change it. He says he doesn't want me to avoid visiting him because I have to work at a studio, and I don't have one there."
"That's so sweet," Joan swooned. Grace and Luke exchanged glances, identical smirks on their faces.
xxxxx
The three of them stopped over for breakfast the next day before leaving for Arcadia. It was a pleasant breakfast. When Grace shut the door in Joan's face (that girl just doesn't understand that some people don't like hugs) after the final good-bye, she felt good about life. Adam was moving to New York, but not to her apartment, Joan was still crazy in a good way, and she could still trust Luke.
Unbidden, the question she had refused to answer earlier reappeared in her mind. Why did she trust Luke so much? Especially now, when she hardly ever saw him?
xxxxx
Back in Arcadia, Adam was dropping Joan and Luke off, into Helen's waiting arms. Just as Adam was about to drive away, though, Luke appeared by his truck and knocked on the window. Confused, Adam rolled the window down.
"Luke," he said blankly.
"Adam, do me a favor," Luke said quickly. "Watch out for Grace."
"Watch out for Grace," he repeated dumbly.
"I'm worried about her, Adam," Luke said, and a shadow crossed his features. "She's changed."
"Grace is tough," Adam said confidently, "I'm sure she's fine."
"Adam," Luke said quickly, "I'm worried about her. So is Joan. Grace isn't happy."
"She may not be," Adam said, almost as quickly, "but she has to be the one to make herself happy. I already told you, she's tough. She takes care of herself."
"We're her friends, Adam," Luke said, wincing as he heard Joan's earlier argument spring from his mouth. "Friends look out for each other."
"I'll always be there for her," Adam said. "And she knows that. But she needs to come to me. That's the way it works for us. We don't push each other."
"I'm not asking you to push her; I just want you to notice if she's okay or not. My God, is it that hard for you to look out for your oldest friend?"
"Look, I know you love her," Luke sputtered, clearly outraged but Adam continued, "and you do, don't even try to deny it, but I don't think you really get her. She's very independent."
"You think I don't know that?" Luke asked, exasperated.
"I'm starting to wonder."
"Fine, don't look out for her. Just, at least don't forget her. Talk to her sometimes."
"Maybe you should take your own advice," Adam said, starting to get angry.
"If you think she needs help, if she's not okay, I want you to call me. If you can spare the time, of course, from your precious studio" Luke spat out, also angry.
"Grace is fine," Adam repeated stubbornly, before rolling up his window and driving away. Luke trudged back into the house.
xxxxx
xxxxx
Next chapter up in about a week, and the story should be finished within a month. Thanks for making it this far.
I'm resorting to begging here: please review, and please please let me know if you have a suggestion for improvement. I'm worried I over-used italics, and that the chapter is too choppy. Let me know what you think.