In the Middle

Chapter Seven

   Grae spent the remainder of her evening sitting in a dimly lit coffee shop, tucked away into the corner. Her hands were clasped around a cup of coffee - the only thing that was bringing her comfort. She couldn't bring herself to think about her next move; instead, she continued to methodically sip the black liquid in her cup, concentrating on the cracked tile on the floor. Grae imagined it must have been beautiful when it was first laid down, when the store first opened. She envisioned a young couple with the dream of opening their own store, opening the heavy glass doors on their first day of business, eagerly awaiting their first customer; the beautiful black and turquoise tile floors shining bright, brand new state of the art machines lined up, ready to make their opening drink. Coming back to reality, Grae instinctively reached for her notebook where she jotted down all of her ideas. Her hand closed around the familiar small, worn black notebook. Mechanically, she flipped through the pages searching for the first blank one. Once located, Grae placed her pen to the page, but the ideas seemed to escape her as she tried to put her thoughts into words. She glanced at the page she had filled last; it was the description of the man she had seen in the photo at Sienna's Senior Showcase. The inspiration she had felt that night upon seeing the man depicted was no longer present. She didn't see him as a leading character for her next short story or novel. Instead, Grae just saw a few words that described half the men in America.

   As Grae slipped her notebook back into her bag, she noticed the phone she had been neglecting was lit up with a notification. Forgetting her vow to leave her phone alone, Grae habitually picked up the device to check the source of the alert. There was no message from Patrick or Sienna asking where she was. Instead, a calendar event filled the screen; dread seeped through Grae. The calendar reminder was one Grae had set a month prior telling that her article was due to be turned into the fashion magazine she'd been working with for the past year. Although it was a small publication, Grae had been able to count on steady work and a cashable paycheck.

   Grae had been putting off starting her article about a budding eco-friendly brand. Most of the leg work was done, but she'd saved the writing of the piece until she was done with the two essays she needed to complete for finals. It would take her the remainder of the day and well into the night to get the piece finished. Grae knew her work would be turned in late, but the editor would be understanding; she always was.

   Why? Why was she putting herself through this? A voice in Grae's head kept asking these question, over and over, until Grae had no idea why she was entertaining the possibility of producing quality work in such a short amount of time, let alone at all. Grae detested the thought of sitting down to write; she knew her spark and inspiration had fled along with the arrival of the piece of paper that changed her future.

   Grae opened up a blank email, planning to draft a letter to the editor of the magazine, explaining that she would be unable to complete the assignment, along with an apology. Unsurprisingly, the words didn't come to her, so she exited the blank document. Planning to ignore the whole situation in hope that it would just disappear was Grae's new solution. She figured if she was already on the path to hell, she may as well go down in flames.

_

   Around 9:30 that night, Grae finally worked up the courage to return to her apartment. She had never known herself to fear facing her best friend or her brother, but she would rather run into anyone else... except maybe Jefferson, or her parents. Reaching her door, she tried to quietly put her key into the lock in hopes that no one would hear her return. Unsurprisingly, both Patrick and Sienna sat on their living room couch. A third person had joined them; Jack sat between the other two, his hand on Sienna's thigh in what Grae figured to be a comforting gesture. She knew that Jack was probably there because Sienna was upset; she was glad that Sienna had someone to turn to, but she wasn't thrilled about her dirty laundry being aired in front of someone she barely knew. The room was silent as Grae entered, but everyone's gaze was fixed on her. She muttered a meek, "Hi."

   Grae expected to be met with a look of anger from them, especially Patrick. To her surprise, Patrick kept an even look on his face, and used a soft tone when he finally spoke to her, "Are you okay?"

   "Yeah, I'm fine. I just needed to leave. Look, I'm sorry for freaking out, but I just don't really know what to do right now. And I just can't bear to talk about it. I'm just... sorry."

   Sienna was next to speak, "It's okay, Grae. I know I sound like a broken record, but we were just worried about you. You haven't been yourself since you got that letter, but we can't help you if you don't let any of us in."

   Grae didn't know what to say; the word "sorry" felt inadequate, and she just felt moronic. She could tell they wanted to help her, and even though deep down she knew she needed a shoulder to lean on, the words couldn't seem to leave her lips.

   The silence was cut by the shrill ringing of Grae's phone. She glanced at the device and saw that the editor of the fashion magazine, Shelley, was calling. Although she desperately didn't want to, she accepted the call, trying to think of how she could possibly excuse the absence of her article.

   "Shelley, hi. How are you?"

   "Grae, hi. I'm alright. Sorry to call so late, but I was wondering if you could resend your article? For some reason, I didn't get it and I need to get it to an editor ASAP so we can get the layout finalized."

   Straight to the point, thought Grae. She knew there was no time to beat around the bush. "About that, I didn't send an article. I didn't write one."

   Grae was met with silence on the other end. Finally, Shelley spoke, "Grae, please tell me you're joking."

   "I wish I could, but I have some things going on right now, and I wasn't able to complete the article."

   Shelley's tone turned to one of ice, one Grae had never heard come from her mouth, "Fine. I'm afraid we are going to end our working relationship at this time."

   Even though Grae knew those words were coming, she couldn't help the slight hitch in her breath as Shelley spoke them. This seemed to thaw Shelley's coldness.

   "Grae, I'm going to be frank with you. I thought you had amazing potential; you're an extremely talented writer. However, if you ever pull something like this again, you won't find work in this profession. I had high hopes for our work together in the future. Good luck, Grae."

   With that, Shelley hung up, and Grae broke down into tears for the second time in the matter of two weeks. Forgetting she wasn't alone, Grae jumped when she felt the familiar arms of her brother go around her. She couldn't take it anymore. She was tired. She was ready to give in.

   Patrick's voice broke through the sound of Grae's sobs, "Grae, you're coming home with me."

   Grae barely recognized her own sad, defeated voice as she whispered, "Okay."

   He was right. She couldn't do this anymore. It was time to move on.