Broken Grace by E.C. Diskin

Author:E.C. Diskin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3, epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2015-08-25T07:00:00+00:00

SEVENTEEN

GRACE SAT IN THE TRUCK OUTSIDE of Vicki’s house, looking at the street, the houses. This had been her neighborhood. She’d sent a text to Vicki about popping over after a run, the police had said. And Lisa said she was a runner. She rested her hands and chin on the steering wheel and closed her eyes. She felt the cold air in her lungs, the steady rhythm of her feet hitting the pavement, the peacefulness of those early mornings, of the quacking ducks in the distance, the occasional deer in the woods. It was real. It wasn’t wishful thinking. She remembered running.

Her cell rang, pulling her from the trance. It was Officer Bishop asking her to come in again.

Lisa’s outburst after their last trip to the station echoed in her ears: Don’t volunteer to help them. But maybe they had a new lead, or maybe going would show that she was cooperating. And Officer Hackett was on her side. She told Bishop she’d be there shortly. Lisa would want to go with her, but she was so paranoid and hostile toward the police, and Grace felt about ten years old when she was by her side. She would handle this herself.

She pulled out of Vicki’s drive and, once on Red Arrow Highway, remembered the route Lisa had taken to get to the station. It felt like an improvement.

She listened to the tape on the way over. It was Grace’s next session, and Dr. Newell began by asking if the Xanax was working—if she was sleeping better. Grace said that it was helping. She said she felt like a new woman. She could hear the lightness in her own voice.

Dr. Newell asked if she’d noticed any negative side effects. “You could say that. My boyfriend seems to like them too.” The doctor was not amused and threatened to discontinue the prescription if Grace was sharing them. Grace quickly apologized—she hadn’t given him any or suggested he take them; that was the problem, she said. Michael seemed too interested in getting high all the time. It was part of why she wondered if she could stay with him. She had told him about seeing the doctor and about her relief at getting the pills, and then noticed several missing by the end of the week. The doctor made Grace promise to hide them if necessary—or she’d end the prescription.

“Well, beyond that, anything else troubling? Any changes in appetite, anything that you’re concerned about?”

“Only that I might get fat,” Grace said.

The doctor questioned her meaning, and Grace said that a few days earlier, she woke and found the fridge wide open, chips and dip on the counter and the remnants of what looked like melted ice cream in a bowl. Michael had been at an all-night card game and wasn’t even home yet, so she knew it had to have been her, but she didn’t remember eating any of it. “Can that happen?” she’d asked. “Sleepwalking and eating?” The doctor confirmed it was possible and suggested reducing the dose.

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