A Touch of Grace

The traffic was crazy. Rows of cars stuck at a red light. Claire still didn't know where she wanted to go. She already had the keys to her new home, but she knew better than to go to an empty, unfamiliar house.

She sighed, looked out of the window. Something caught her eyes. The glowing red banner of a coffee shop. Claire found her eyes misting at the familiar sight of a very familiar place. She hadn't come there in a while, definitely not after she left Brad.

The traffic had started to move by then. Claire drove to a side, parked her car at an empty spot. Then she got off and locked her car, eyes staring at the glass door of the coffee shop, trying to think beyond the blur of tears. There were people inside, talking, laughing, having coffee. Just like she and Brad would. She saw their favourite seat by the window where they'd spent several cosy evenings. She remembered where he'd kissed her for the first time, where she'd fed him a birthday cake. She remembered every damn thing.

Claire opened the door and walked in, not sure why she kept doing this to herself. She found their favourite table empty, sank into a chair. Before she knew it, she was crying bitterly, tears blinding her eyes and clogging her nose. She buried her face in her arms on the table, sobbing, little hiccups running through her body.

"Hey."

The voice seemed vaguely familiar but she couldn't care to look up. She wasn't there to order anything. She was there just to be bloody miserable.

The chair next to her scraped, and then a hand fell on her head. She looked up with difficulty, cleared her eyes as best as possible.

It was Bryan.

Fuck.

She broke into renewed sobs when she saw him, tears turning his face cloudy in front of her eyes. She buried her face in her hands, her body jerking as she wept. A moment later, she was being pulled into a hug, strong arms coming around her, a broad chest supporting her face. Almost involuntarily, she put her arms around him, clinging to him like he was the only anchor in a stormy sea. She felt his gentle hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair, trying to steady her. Claire couldn't believe she had such bottled up emotions inside her for so long.

When she began to calm down, she felt his embrace slacken slightly, allowing her to lift her head. She met his gaze, kind and warm and so comforting it made her want to cry again.

"I'm sorry." The trembling words came out in a hoarse murmur. She tried her best to wipe off the tears, her head reeling slightly from all the crying. "I'm sorry," she repeated vaguely, covering her mouth with her palms.

"It's alright." He moved away, gathered his hands on the table. "Do you want something? Some coffee or..."

"No...I..." she pressed her hands to her quivering lips, trying in vain to stop the fresh tears from sprouting in her eyes. "I better go."

"No. Stay." He held her arm, stopped her from standing. "You aren't okay yet. Just sit here for a while."

Claire obeyed, feeling too tired to do otherwise. Bryan remained seated beside her, staring at her face, but Claire didn't even have it in her to be uncomfortable anymore. Her head was low, hair all over her face, her hands still trembling. Bryan put his hands on hers, warming them up, stopping the trembling.

"What happened?" He finally asked. Claire didn't know where to begin. She sniffed back tears, wiped her eyes with the sleeves of her dress.

"My brother's going to be a dad," she mumbled, even though that wasn't the problem.

"So that makes you an aunt. Congratulations." His hand patted hers. "Why are you crying then?"

"I..." Claire shook her head, covered her face with a hand as fresh tears took over her. "I feel so worthless," she croaked. "My life is going nowhere. My brother is so well-settled, and look at me.... I'm so fucked up, so miserable..."

"Why are you comparing yourself to your brother?"

"Because..." Because everybody had always done that. Growing up, she'd heard the same refrain: why can't you be more like your brother?

"He's got everything." She spoke, her voice throaty. "We're siblings, right? Why couldn't I be like him? Why couldn't I have a proper career, a loving partner? Why am I still single?" God..." She started to sob again, her fingers coming back slick when she used her hands to cover her face. "I'm pushing thirty and I'm still single. And that fucking bastard has moved on! He's in a bloody relationship again, can you imagine?!"

"Hey, calm down. Please." He moved closer, put an arm around her. "Look you can't change what happened. Give yourself time. You'll eventually get over it."

"I mean, what? Wasn't I enough?" Claire didn't seem to have even heard what Bryan just said. "Wasn't I giving him what he wanted? He once said he was just going out with friends. Just going out. And then three hours later he comes home and he smells like some fucking...fucking whore's cologne. And I say, what, did you trip and land in a fountain of Coco Mademoiselle? And a month later he comes home two hours late with the same smell and says he was stuck at work. Stuck at work!"

She moved hair out of her face, bit her lip to stop the sobs. Bryan moved his arm away from her shoulders, held her hand instead. "Did you confront him?" he asked softly.

Claire shook her head. "Until that evening, when I returned home to find him sinking his tongue into somebody else's...." She closed her eyes, trying to make the image go away. "He had definitely been with her for a while. So every time he'd kiss me, make love to me... I now cringe to think where his tongue had been, where his...thing...had been..."

She looked at his face. "Maybe I should have just brushed it off... Taken him back..."

"No." Bryan frowned. "You caught him cheating. Why would you forgive that?"

"Because I'm so miserable thinking everyone's sorted and I'm not."

"Who's everyone? I'm not sorted yet."

"You have Grace."

"You have her too." Bryan held her right hand between his big palms, the warmth soothing her skin. "If she makes you feel better, you can always spend more time with her. She usually remains home all day, so you're free to drop in and be with her. At least you'll be distracted and not sitting at a café crying over things that don't matter."

"It matters to me."

"Really? How does crying over a man who cheated on you help? Unless of course you're a closet masochist."

Claire wiped off her tears, feeling the stains making her face all crusty. She rubbed her hands together, looked out of the window.

"I'm ordering coffee," he announced, looking for a waiter. Claire was about to protest but he shut her gently.

"You're cold. You need it." He called a waiter, placed an order for two coffees. "You want to eat anything?" he asked her. She shook her head. "Okay, two coffees then," he told the waiter.

"Why are you here?" She was finally making sense of her surroundings again.

"Came with a couple of friends for a laugh," he explained. "Saw you sitting here while leaving. Stopped by."

"Grace?"

"My parents are keeping her for a couple of days." He smiled, leaned closer. "She talks about you so much. Remember she used to be so reluctant earlier on? Now she wants every day to be Saturday."

"I wish I had someone like her in my life..." She murmured, drawing circles with her finger on the table.

"Why someone like her? You have her." Bryan held her hand again. "Like I said, you can have more time with her if you want to."

"I don't want to use her like a crutch to get over my heartbreak."

"In that case, I've been using her like a crutch the whole time to forget how pathetic my life is." He shrugged, then laughed. "She makes life better, for me, for you. That isn't a bad thing."

The coffee arrived. Steaming and delicious, like molten warmth in a mug. Bryan pushed one towards her.

"Warm yourself up," he said. "You look pale."

"I'm fine," she said, wrapping her palms around the mug.

"No. You said you're miserable." He picked up his coffee, took a sip. "How far is your Christmas shopping?"

"I haven't shopped this year," she took a long swallow of the coffee, felt warm and toasty inside. "Not for myself at least. Just bought gifts for my family and the kids."

"I know a breakup is hard. But you're being unkind to yourself." He shook his head, sipped on the coffee. "You deserve better."

"I..." She paused, swallowed around the lump in her throat. "How's Grace?"

"Fine. Busy with her new helicopter. She did have a little breathing trouble yesterday after playing for a long time, but it wasn't serious."

"Is there no cure? I mean...you know...like a pacemaker or something?"

Bryan shook his head. "She was just four days old when she underwent open heart surgery," he explained. "An eight hour operation. Six months later she needed to be airlifted for a second operation on her heart. Then just after her second birthday Grace's body became weak again. She underwent the final operation they could offer us."

"Final....as in?"

"As in there's nothing more that can be done. Sooner or later her heart will tire and fail." He heaved a long, heavy sigh, staring into the coffee mug. "A heart transplant is the only option now. We are looking for a match since last year, but a child heart donor is very rare. If she doesn't find a donor, she'll lose her life."

"Please." Claire involuntarily reached for Bryan's hand, squeezing it. "Every time you say that, it breaks my heart."

"We've been asked to be prepared for anything." He put his hand on hers. "I just want to make things as easy for her as possible, give her everything she wants, just keep her happy always. Grace is oblivious to the magnitude of her condition. She never complains. She..." He laughed fondly, even as his eyes turned moist. "My mom breaks down sometimes thinking about the future, and she puts her arms around her to comfort her, tells her that she'll never leave us..."

"She will never." Claire looked into his eyes, nodding. "Believe it."

"I wish it could change things." Bryan finished his coffee in a few long gulps, then looked at her. "Finish that. It'll turn cold."

"Oh." She sipped on the coffee, found it indeed a little cold. "I'm moving to my new house next week."

"That's great," he smiled. "So something'll keep you busy, huh?"

"I have enough to keep me busy." Claire finished her coffee.

"But you still manage to feel sad." Bryan gathered the mugs, rising from the chair. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

She nodded, not finding enough strength to get up. It was getting late. But she didn't feel like going home. Peter and Pauline would probably be wrapped in each other, and they had good reason to tonight. It wasn't their problem that seeing them so in love just made her pity herself all the more.

"So." Bryan returned, sat down again. "You want to go home?"

She shook her head. "Don't feel like it." Bundling her hands in a single fist, she kept her forehead against it. "I'm sorry about saying all that. You didn't have to know it."

"I probably didn't. But you needed to vent." He was smiling when she looked up. "I'll get you home. Come on."

"I have my car. I can go."

"Yeah, but you don't want to. So someone has to get you home. The café will shut in a while."

Claire smiled for the first time. "Do you usually stop for people throwing up by the roadside or crying in a coffee shop?" she asked. Bryan laughed.

"I stop for people who need help," he said. "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." He checked the time. "You want to have dinner somewhere? I'm kind of hungry."

"I don't feel like eating."

"So you're going to go home and cry yourself to sleep on an empty stomach, right?" He raised an eyebrow. Claire hung her head low, feeling uncomfortable suddenly. For some odd reason, Bryan got her. He gauged her emotions even before she could process them.

"What about dinner then?" He asked again.

And now he was asking her out for dinner...

"You don't have to if you..." he began to add.

"Okay." Claire relented, realizing she didn't want to go home to find her brother making out with his wife. "I'm not sure how much I can eat, but..." She looked at him, smiled shyly. "I like your company."

"And I like yours." He smiled, rose from the chair. "There's a Chinese restaurant close by. Let's go there."

Claire rose from the chair, feeling like she hadn't walked in ages. Bryan held her when she faltered, steadied her with a hand on her waist. They headed out into the night, mostly quiet. But once in the restaurant, the mood changed. Bryan joked and laughed, and Claire found herself laughing easily. The man had gone through so much, just like his daughter. But neither of them had lost their ability to enjoy life and be happy with what they had. In the middle of dinner, Peter called to ask if she was okay. She told him the truth, that she had met Grace's dad on the way and had decided to spend some time together. She could sense Peter's smile when she asked him about their big news. He said both of them had shed tears of joy for a while, making Claire wish she'd been there to capture the moment. She hung up after assuring him she'd be home soon.

Dinner was nice and easy. They shared about their professions; his furniture business and her handicrafts e-store. He spoke about Grace, her antics, habits, quirks. He also told her about his parents and younger brother, who was due to get married next year. Claire really wanted to ask about Grace's mom, but didn't. Spoiling a nice dinner with a nice man wouldn't be a clever move.

She drove Bryan home since he didn't have his car with him, despite his protests.

"Feeling okay?" he asked her while they made the journey. "You ate little."

"I'm fine," she smiled. "I lost my appetite after crying so much." She gave him a sidelong glance. "When are you meeting Grace?"

"Tomorrow morning. She usually remains with mom while I'm away at work, and I pick her up on my way back."

"I miss her when I don't see her."

"I know. She's infectious." He laughed softly. "Everyone at the hospital loves her so much. They spoil her rotten. Right turn, please."

Claire turned, noticing a nice, single-story house at the corner. "This one?" she asked. He nodded.

"My parents live there," he pointed behind him to the lane they'd just crossed. "You sure you can make it back home?"

"Yes." She saw Bryan get off, discreetly adjusting his pants. "Thanks for today. I didn't think the evening would end this way."

"Neither did I, but..." He smiled, leaned against the open door. "Take care of yourself, yeah? There's no use wasting your energy on someone who couldn't value you."

Claire nodded, like trying to follow his words. "I'll see you Saturday, then?"

"Yeah." He shut the door. "Drive safe, okay? You have my number, right? Mind letting me know once you reach?"

"I'll be okay."

"I'll be worried."

Claire sighed. "Okay," she nodded. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

She drove off, smiling to herself all the way home. She crept quietly inside, Peter and Pauline already asleep. Then she undressed, brushed her teeth, and climbed into bed, phone in one hand and Brownie next to her.

*

"This is for me?" Claire asked, eyes wide with pleasant surprise. Grace nodded, then giggled. Claire held the card in her hands, innocently hand-drawn with crayons and colouring pencils. The picture had a big green Christmas tree in the middle, decorated with bells and stars and every possible thing one had ever seen on a Christmas tree. There were colourful gifts scattered around the base of the tree, and at the bottom of the card was written 'Merry Christmas to Miss Claire' with a red crayon, and then Grace's signature.

"It's so pretty," she smiled, pulling her into a hug. Grace giggled again, her brown eyes twinkling. "You're only getting better at painting. This is so nice."

She kissed her forehead, fondness filling her heart. "Thank you. I'm going to hang it in my new home."

She was moving the next day. There was not much to be moved, though. Just a few bags and boxes and it would be done. While leaving Brad, she had only taken her own stuff, leaving behind all the furniture and appliances that she'd bought for the house. Her new house was already furnished, so she had bought a couple of mattresses and some bed linen. Slowly she'd get around to decorating the place.

"Well, actually, I have something for you too." Claire reached for the other chair, where she'd put down her bag. She opened it, fished out a box wrapped in glossy, red paper. Grace stared, like she knew there was something fun inside.

"Here. This is your Christmas gift from me." She smiled, as Grace reached her small hands out to hold the box. "Go on, open it."

Grace put the box on the table, stood up from the chair, and proceeded to remove the paper. With a little help from Claire, she managed to unwrap the box, then lifted the flaps to find her gift inside.

"Airplanes." There was a look of wonder on her face as she stared inside the box. Then with gentle hands she fished out the two toy airplanes one by one. "For me?" She asked just to confirm. Claire nodded.

"Thank you," she giggled, looking at the toys on the table.

"What are they?" Claire smiled.

"This is a glider." Grace expertly held up one of the planes. "This is its canopy," she started pointing to parts of the plane. "This is the rudder, this is the fin, these are the wings, this is the flap, this is the elevator..."

Claire stared, impressed by her perfect knowledge of planes, even though she was yet to begin school. In the last few months, she had impressed and surprised her in many ways, whether talking about airplanes, or analyzing the characters of the stories she read to her, or ruing how lonely her daddy was. Claire had never seen her sad. She wondered if anybody had. Despite how frail she was, her spirits were always high.

"This one is a jet," Grace continued, moving over to the other toy. "It's very similar to a glider, but has winglets on the tips of the wings, turbine engines under the wings..." She looked up at her. "I'll have my own airplane when I grow up," she said. "Like this," she held up the glider. Claire smiled.

"Of course you will," she nodded. "You'll fly your own plane. Who will be your passenger?"

"Daddy." She said promptly, playing with two toys in two hands. "Grandpa, grandma, uncle Rory. And you."

Claire raised her eyebrows. "Me?"

"Yes." She looked at her, eyes narrow. "Won't you come?"

"Oh, I will," she laughed, kissing her cheek. "I will."

She looked out of the window to see if Bryan was there yet. It was the last day before Christmas, and the younger volunteers had organised a small program for the kids where the parents were also invited. Grace had worn a pretty princess dress, a small tiara in her hair. Bryan had stopped to speak to her for a while when he came to drop Grace, asking if she'd been okay after that day.

She actually had. Now when she thought of it she realised she'd only been polite and discreet about her breakup, had avoided trashing the man she'd spent so long with. But after that attempted voice message and then crying in front of Bryan, telling him all the nasty details, she indeed felt a lot better.

"So what are you doing on Christmas day?" Claire asked her, keeping her engaged until Bryan arrived and the show started.

"We give gifts to children who don't have parents," she answered, checking if her dress was alright. "In the evening, daddy's friends come over. Sometimes we go to visit them. And we eat ham."

"Do you decorate the tree?"

"Yes. Daddy does the top because he's big, I do the bottom." She smiled at her, a new tooth coming out from the blank space. "Grandma makes cake. I love it."

"Sure you do." She looked out of the window again, found Bryan arriving. "Daddy's here," she said. "Come on, let's put these back in, and then we'll go to the hall."