Excerpt: Grand Court

When she gets back to her apartment, everything looks pristine. She has trouble turning on the light, disturbing the silence, but when she does, she notes everything around her—from the medical bills she left scattered on the old dining room table last week to her sneakers, one pushed up insistently against her computer desk, the other sprawled out lazily in front of the recliner. Her bed sheets are unfurled like a badly behaved flower, blooming haphazardly, with undignified wrinkles and petals trailing against the ground. She does not want to sit on it, she does not want to sit anywhere, to ruin the shape or feel of things from her life before she met Drew. The Marine who is moving to Colorado in a week. She never even got his last name.
She chuckles as she realizes anew why she might have difficulty taking risks—because change, even on such a micro-level as this, is hard for her to handle. How on Earth is she ever supposed to have sex with someone? Let alone a relationship? She cannot even handle a drink or a cup of coffee. And in all honesty, that is all that she knew for sure that Drew wanted from her. Most of the rest of her “intel” was based on assumptions.

Though she could tell that he was lonely. It was written all over his face, from the desperation in his eyes to the twitching of his cheek. Even the rancidness of his apartment spelled it out for her. She can smell her own, after all.

In the morning, of course, after he has slept his hangover off, he would forget all about her. It would be like their little interlude never really happened. They might even be riding in the same elevator (for the next week, Rachel’s heart will skip a beat whenever they pause on the 8th floor,) and not say a word to each other. He would forget about her and yes, she would mourn the loss of him. It might be months, after all, before another kindhearted person would take notice of her, only for Rachel to drop the ball again.

When you are as lonely as Drew and your inhibitions are low enough, you might reach out to anyone. And do anything.

Rachel sighs, finally sitting down on her bed and breaking the illusion in her head, but she finds she has to adjust herself immediately as something hard stabs into her left butt cheek. Gasping, Rachel pulls out the silver photo frame containing a photo of her and Grandma in front of Grand Court. It must have fallen off of the ledge at least a day or two ago to get so tangled up in her bed sheets, serving as yet another testament to her own messy demeanor.

Frances is smiling in the photo, her lips upturned just slightly as if she is shocked by this occurrence as her granddaughter is. Is it because she is standing with Rachel? Rachel peers at the picture closely, taking in the rose-lined pathway to the main entrance, and then it suddenly hits her—why her grandmother must have decided to go to Grand Court without making that much of a fuss. Shocked, Rachel leans backwards, her lips forming into a perfect “O”, her first comfortable show of surprise since Drew had entered her life. The pieces are falling into place at long last. Lonely people can smell their own, and the desperate steps that people take to reach out to one another before it is too late. After all, nobody wants to be forgotten.