Unsuspecting Blessing.

xxiv

xxiv

I checked my watch: Almost five p.m.,  Brian is late, he texted me telling me to wait here, to pick me up. There must be some good reason for this, because I could have made dinner by now; for myself at least, I don't know how much longer he will be staying with that girl I have yet to meet. I would think, since he is an adult, that he would have the courtesy to let me meet this mystery woman that he has been taking care of for months now. I wonder, is there something wrong with her? Does she have some sort of severe disability? No, that can't be right, she is already technically disabled even if it is just temporary. Maybe it's how she acts? No, he's an odd specimen himself; and that is not something he would stoop to embarrassment for. Maybe she's—dare I say—ugly, or unflattering to herself. I think that it all has to do with confidence; beauty lies within someone's ability to feel beautiful. Or, the most sure of a possibility, Brian has taken a certain liking to her and is worried of my disapproval but what ticks me off more—more than him being late to pick me up from a place he told me to stay at when I can easily walk home—is that his Father, of all slimy people, got to meet her first. Though I guess it could not be helped, if she is in real trouble that is, but if I were to deem him embarrassed it would not be of her; more feasible it would be that he is not sheepish from her but from himself finding someone perchance permanent in his life romantically. I have not seen Brian with any other girl since that middle-school flame and I certainly have worried about the absence of grandchildren in—

There's my car, pulling up. I can't wait to see what had him holding me up for so long. He parked, and got out to open the passenger side door for me. I hopped into the car, the seats feeling all so familiar, until I turned around to face what I assumed to be the cause of latency but shocked at the surreal feeling that encased me at her sight. In the back of my car were two crutches, laying next to a girl sitting. A girl, marvelously pale with soft skin and black hair that make her face shine brighter in an aura of artificial confidence. She is beautiful. And she is quieter than I expected. She greeted me when I turned around, and must have seen the smirk on my face because her pallid complexion turned to a pink, flushed, almost apologetic look and as her mouth opened I interrupted her—and before Brian got back into the car—: "You are perfect."

My remark, as intended, caught her so off guard that she covered her mouth whilst her next words caught in her mouth. "My name is Grace," I said, "I am Brian's Mom." I did not stick out my hand for a handshake as I usually would in a situation like this; as I did for the little wretch Brian dated in middle school and some of high school; and she replied:

"Hi," softly, and hushed, clearly muffled from the uneasiness I set into her, "my name is Julia." And she sat upright as Brian got into the car and shut the driver's side door. Watching her reminded me of unconditional love and gratitude. She knows that she owes much to him, and I hope that—Julia, as I know—loves him well.

"Hey Mom," Brian said, finally greeting me after letting me into the car, "could I ask a favor of you; you so brilliant-minded lady."

Smothering me in the compliments right away, I see. "Yes," I said, sounding reluctant but more than eager to know.

"Dad gave us some papers to read over, and I really need someone super smart to help us understand, and to make sure he isn't pulling something malicious."

I expected something of the sorts to come after a visit to his Father's like that, and am certainly more than excited to help—less excited to know in just which way his Father is going to try and rob this poor girl. "Of course."