Friday, January 20, 2006
Grace Triumphant 005
March 4, 2005
Hillary's house sat near the summit of the mountain. On the outside, it looked like an ordinary but attractive cottage. But it went further back into the trees than was apparent, so that when you stepped inside you entered a bright, expansive country home, with light colored woods and cheerful braided rugs, wool throws, and every comfort imaginable, all in a place that felt like home.
When I knocked on Hillary's door that night, she appeared in her robe and let me in. The cough that she'd had for months was worse again. It never went away, even after rounds and rounds of antibiotics. She insisted that once spring came she would be right as rain.
"The winter has settled in my chest," she told me as she led me inside. "Oh dear, I am so tired. Do you mind cooking, Grace?"
"Not at all." My cooking was never equal to Hillary's but I could turn out canned soup very well.
"I've been in bed all day. No energy. But I'm so glad to see another soul," she said. She settled onto the sofa and I covered her with one of the many comfortable throws that decorated the sofas and chairs. Then I explored her refrigerator. She had a rice pilaf mix and plenty of veggies, so I cooked up stir fry for us. My own mother had always kept me away from bread and milk when I had a cough, and I followed her example. And Hillary's appetite was certainly healthy enough.
I had to remind myself that Hillary was the same age as Anita and my own mother. Not that Hillary ever said her age. But she had two children who were older than I, both actors trying to get a break: one in New York and one in Hillary's natal town of London.
Face lifts, constant dieting, and more homeopathic and natural remedies I'd ever seen before all kept Hillary in a nether world between teenager and middle-aged mother. She wore jeans that were a size or two smaller than my own, kept her hair colored light brown with blond streaks, and usually moved with boundless energy and enthusiasm.
"You know, when you crash, you crash all the way," I told her as I settled on the floor with my back against the sofa where she lay.
"I'll call that doctor up and give him a good piece of my mind," she said. "He's supposed to get me better."
"Doctor who?"
"No, Jenkins, down in Asheville. Oh and it's so far. So much trouble to go. Don't do the dishes now, Grace. Let's watch something."
So I turned on the VCR and we watched Double Indemnity.
"Oh and that young man John called to see if you would be here tonight," Hillary said while, on the screen, Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray were eying each other up and down and plying each other with double entendres.
It just figured that the thought of matchmaking would revive Hillary. She didn't take marriage seriously for herself, and both children had been born between husbands in her multi-stage marital history. Yet she lived in the hope that I would find a "sincere young man" and settle down, forever happy like a character from a fairy tale.
"Did he really say he wanted to know if I'd be here?" I asked.
"No, what he said was that he wanted to remind you to pick him up before the gym tomorrow because his car is in the shop," she said. "But he was really calling to get a chance to talk to you."
Barbara Stanwyck was telling Fred MacMurray how unkind her husband was, and I wanted to listen to it, but Hillary said in a singsong voice, "John likes you, Grace!" Then she coughed into her hand.
"Hillary, John has dated every girl in that church," I told her. "I am not going to date him. We're just trophies to him. He dates a girl for a few months and then gets rid of her. Well not this girl."
"But you have to date to know if you should marry," she said. "He's not willing to settle until he finds the right one."
"The odds alone say I'm not the right one."
"Oh, you pessimist!"
"We had one date, and while we were sitting in a concert, I had this great spiritual revelation," I told her.
"The Messiah?" she asked.
"Yes, when he took me to The Messiah. John thinks I'm a girl who has visions or something."
"Even a girl who has visions needs a good man. He may have figured that out by now."
"Hmm, only been two months---"
"Oh, you're impossible!"
I liked John enormously. He was the most handsome man I'd ever dated. But I didn't want to admit it to anybody. I really doubted that John would fall in love with me. A serious dating relationship just didn't seem like a good idea, because I didn't want to lose his friendship.
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Hillary's house sat near the summit of the mountain. On the outside, it looked like an ordinary but attractive cottage. But it went further back into the trees than was apparent, so that when you stepped inside you entered a bright, expansive country home, with light colored woods and cheerful braided rugs, wool throws, and every comfort imaginable, all in a place that felt like home.
When I knocked on Hillary's door that night, she appeared in her robe and let me in. The cough that she'd had for months was worse again. It never went away, even after rounds and rounds of antibiotics. She insisted that once spring came she would be right as rain.
"The winter has settled in my chest," she told me as she led me inside. "Oh dear, I am so tired. Do you mind cooking, Grace?"
"Not at all." My cooking was never equal to Hillary's but I could turn out canned soup very well.
"I've been in bed all day. No energy. But I'm so glad to see another soul," she said. She settled onto the sofa and I covered her with one of the many comfortable throws that decorated the sofas and chairs. Then I explored her refrigerator. She had a rice pilaf mix and plenty of veggies, so I cooked up stir fry for us. My own mother had always kept me away from bread and milk when I had a cough, and I followed her example. And Hillary's appetite was certainly healthy enough.
I had to remind myself that Hillary was the same age as Anita and my own mother. Not that Hillary ever said her age. But she had two children who were older than I, both actors trying to get a break: one in New York and one in Hillary's natal town of London.
Face lifts, constant dieting, and more homeopathic and natural remedies I'd ever seen before all kept Hillary in a nether world between teenager and middle-aged mother. She wore jeans that were a size or two smaller than my own, kept her hair colored light brown with blond streaks, and usually moved with boundless energy and enthusiasm.
"You know, when you crash, you crash all the way," I told her as I settled on the floor with my back against the sofa where she lay.
"I'll call that doctor up and give him a good piece of my mind," she said. "He's supposed to get me better."
"Doctor who?"
"No, Jenkins, down in Asheville. Oh and it's so far. So much trouble to go. Don't do the dishes now, Grace. Let's watch something."
So I turned on the VCR and we watched Double Indemnity.
"Oh and that young man John called to see if you would be here tonight," Hillary said while, on the screen, Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray were eying each other up and down and plying each other with double entendres.
It just figured that the thought of matchmaking would revive Hillary. She didn't take marriage seriously for herself, and both children had been born between husbands in her multi-stage marital history. Yet she lived in the hope that I would find a "sincere young man" and settle down, forever happy like a character from a fairy tale.
"Did he really say he wanted to know if I'd be here?" I asked.
"No, what he said was that he wanted to remind you to pick him up before the gym tomorrow because his car is in the shop," she said. "But he was really calling to get a chance to talk to you."
Barbara Stanwyck was telling Fred MacMurray how unkind her husband was, and I wanted to listen to it, but Hillary said in a singsong voice, "John likes you, Grace!" Then she coughed into her hand.
"Hillary, John has dated every girl in that church," I told her. "I am not going to date him. We're just trophies to him. He dates a girl for a few months and then gets rid of her. Well not this girl."
"But you have to date to know if you should marry," she said. "He's not willing to settle until he finds the right one."
"The odds alone say I'm not the right one."
"Oh, you pessimist!"
"We had one date, and while we were sitting in a concert, I had this great spiritual revelation," I told her.
"The Messiah?" she asked.
"Yes, when he took me to The Messiah. John thinks I'm a girl who has visions or something."
"Even a girl who has visions needs a good man. He may have figured that out by now."
"Hmm, only been two months---"
"Oh, you're impossible!"
I liked John enormously. He was the most handsome man I'd ever dated. But I didn't want to admit it to anybody. I really doubted that John would fall in love with me. A serious dating relationship just didn't seem like a good idea, because I didn't want to lose his friendship.
