Anami Residence
900 Park Avenue at 79th Street,
March 31, 2001
Grace woke up with a start, flinging away the bedsheets before running to the bathroom. She could feel the churning heat beginning in her stomach, working its way up as she hurried to raise the toilet seat. She kneeled on the cold marble floor, pulling her long hair away from her face just in time. Her body jerked as she began to retch, her abdomen violently clenching and heaving. Nothing came up but fluid; she hadn't eaten anything since Thursday evening.
She heard soft footsteps in the distance, and she panicked.
"Mommy?"
Grace turned her head slightly, hoping that in her mad dash she had thought to close the door behind her. To her relief, she saw that the door was closed.
"Mommy, what's wrong?" Raphael's voice sounded worried and scared through the barrier of the door, and Grace didn't want him to see her in such a state.
"Rafe, don't come in here. I'm okay, sweetie. I just need to splash some water on my face, and then I'll be right out."
She slowly lifted her head away from the cool porcelain, softly crying out from the pain that moving her head caused. It felt like it weighed a ton, and any minute Grace expected her neck to snap under its burden.
She rose from the floor, flushing the toilet before walking towards the sink. She stared down at her hands as she washed them.
They're the same as they've always been, I suppose.
She cupped them to bring the water to her face, allowing the shock of the cool drops to wake her up fully.
She turned off the faucet and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked into her eyes and was startled to see the swollen redness, dark circles and the great desolation in them. In her own eyes, she looked like an old woman at 33.
She looked again at her hands, then back to the mirror.
My hands are the same, my body is the same, but my face! Who is this, she who stares back at me? She frightens me with her witch eyes. Why can't she just go away?
Grace reached for her toothbrush, averting her eyes from the mirror as she brushed her teeth. When she finished and rinsed her mouth, she looked up again.
I no longer recognize myself.
Her head aching, she stumbled to the door and out of the bathroom. Rafe was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her. His fresh, young face was concerned as she walked up to him and reached out a hand to stroke his shoulder-length sable hair.
"I'm fine, sweetheart. Don't worry."
He didn't look convinced, and he must have seen something revealing in her eyes because his face became strangely blank.
"You would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you? If it was serious?"
Grace felt a pang of fear in her heart; of what, she didn't know.
"Of course I would. Why would you ask that?"
Raphael looked at her for a long moment. "I'm not sure. I just get these feelings sometimes, like there's more going on than I know."
Grace's eyes began to water, and she bit her lip to hold back the tears. She cleared her throat, barely managing to keep her voice from cracking as she spoke.
"Son, I promise you that if anything serious happens, I will tell you."
Rafe watched her with his slightly-rounded eyes, and he eventually nodded. He rose from the bed and went to where she stood, looking up at her.
"Are you feeling better now? Are we still going to visit Grandpa today?"
Grace smiled at his eagerness, and she leaned down to kiss his cheek.
"Yes and yes! Go and get dressed now, and we'll take a nice walk through the park on the way."
Rafe ran back into his room next door, and Grace was alone. She thought over what he'd said about sensing that there was more going on than what he was told, and she felt ashamed of herself.
He sees through my lies, through me, like glass. It's a miracle that I don't shatter.
She opened and entered the walk-in closet to pick out her clothes for the day, and she selected a warm green cashmere sweater and jeans along with a pair of black calf-length boots made from buttery soft leather.
She let her mind wander as she dressed. She thought again about the wrong move she'd made by calling Gabriel, and she sighed in self-disgust. She couldn't believe that she had almost fallen into the trap of inviting him back into her life after so long.
Well, thank goodness that he wasn't home at the time. I would have hated it if he had picked up the phone and I couldn't speak from nervousness, or worse, if I heard sounds of some woman in the background. Damn it, if only I had been able to hang up sooner! I'll bet that the recording that I left sounded terrible.
The week before, when she realized that her crying had been recorded on Gabriel's voice-mail, Grace was alarmed. She began looking over her shoulder when she went out, afraid that she would turn around and he would be there. When the days passed and there was no response, at first she had been relieved but then she felt curiously disappointed along with something else; she'd felt as if she'd been abandoned.
Bullshit. I've managed without Gabriel for years, and I don't need him now. Whatever his reasons for not acting on my misguided call for help, I don't care. I have to be the one who'll step up and do what's best for myself and my child. I'm sick and tired of playing the damsel in distress! God knows that the whole charade of my marriage was based on that role, but no more. I must figure out what I'm going to do next, and then take action. I'm through with waiting in the wings while my life, my entire world revolves around either one man or another. It all ends now.
She finished dressing and walked to her bedside table, reaching out for her daily planner. She flipped through the pages, her eyes searching for the red circles that indicated her last period cycle. Finding them, she calculated the days.
Three weeks ago was the last one. David and I made love when it was over, about two weeks ago. The bouts of nausea began last week, as well as worst of the migraines. What the hell's going on here? I can't be pregnant again; it would be the worst timing in the world, considering that I'm going to leave him.
Lost in her thoughts, Grace absently placed a hand on her abdomen. She didn't want it to be true, but she didn't know what else it could be.
She glanced at the bedside clock; it was 9:30am. Her planner was still open next to where she sat on the bed, so she turned the pages until she reached the section where she kept the phone numbers. She looked up the number of her gynecologist while reaching for the cordless phone. Her head pounded harder with anxiety as she dialed.
"Hello, you have reached the office of Dr. Karen Sato. I'm not in right now..."
Grace patiently waited for the beep before speaking, her voice nervous.
"Karo, it's me, Grace. I haven't been feeling well this past week, lots of nausea and that type of thing. Could you squeeze me in for a check-up on Monday afternoon? It's urgent. If you want to get back to me, call me on my cell. Bye."
She disconnected the call and returned the phone back to the night table She jumped when she looked up to find Raphael standing at the doorway, watching her.
Grace rose from the bed. "Hi, baby. How long have you been waiting there?"
Rafe shrugged. "Not long. Mom, do we have to put the special cream on today?"
Grace watched him, noting the expression of distaste on his features as he spoke.
He hates it,
she realized.
But it's necessary to protect him from prying eyes.
"Honey, you heard what the dermatologist said. It's necessary to protect your sensitive skin from the sun whenever you go outside. The sunlight can be very damaging for people with fair skin such as yours."
Rafe frowned. "But I don't like the way it makes me look when I have it on. I look like I'm from outer space, and it makes me look pale and sick when I'm not! People, both on the street and here at home, look at me with pity on their faces and that's NOT necessary. I also don't like the feel of it on my face. It's unnatural."
She felt a rush of heat in her cheeks as she registered her son's complaints. It pained her that he disliked the daily regimen so much, and she hated making him go through with it.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't think about how you would feel about the whole thing. I'll talk with the doctor next week and see if she can put you on something else, okay? Something that's less thick so it won't cover up your rosy cheeks. But in the meantime, let's continue with this cream for just a little while longer."
Rafe brought over the small orange tube of sunscreen and placed it in Grace's waiting hand. Unscrewing the cap, she watched her little boy's face and again chided herself for her cowardice and dishonesty. She squeezed a generous dollop onto her fingers and went to work, covering his skin with the disgusting mixture. She wanted to cry as his beautiful skin was smothered by the white lotion, and she cursed herself repeatedly inside her mind.
Grace caught a whiff of the cream and her brows drew together in a frown.
"God, this stuff stinks!" She said it in self-directed anger, and Rafe looked at her with wide eyes.
"Mom, I'm sorry that I yelled at you before." The look in his eyes told her that he thought she was angry at him, and her voice softened as she rushed to correct him.
"Don't apologize, my angel. You have every right to say what you feel about anything you want. I'm very proud to have you for a son, do you know that? I love the fact that you can share your opinions so easily, without worrying about what other people will think. By being able to do that, you're stronger than most people."
"Why do some people hold themselves back, Mommy?"
