Raining, but Gently

Raining, but Gently

a short story by Octavia Kuransky

2250 words

Grace could not find the match to her black shoe. The T-strap in patent, not the sling back with the gold heel. She was on her knees now digging through the bottom of the closet. Fingering the shoe boxes now on the closet shelf. Now under the bed, under the makeup chair, under the bureau. She was running late and in just a few minutes it would be too late. She didn’t feel too bad about it. She didn’t want to go anyway. It was an obligation type thing. An acquaintance she was cultivating. For business purposes. She decided she could wear the sling back. She found her keys and her earrings no problem.

She arrived, surprised to find several spaces in front of the venue. This was not right. She wasn’t that lucky.

“What?” she said quietly to herself and pulled into one of the spots in front of the building. It was lit but not brightly. An artist’s prerogative? A few people stood around in the room. They were all quite young.

“Excuse me.” She asked the bartender. “This the reception for Gayle Fortuno?”

“What?” the bartender said. The music was really too loud.

“I said is this the reception for Gayle Fortuno?”

“Never heard of her.” The bartender said flatly and turned away.

“Wait!” Grace hollered to his back. The back stopped and turned half-way round.

“Isn’t there an art opening here tonight?” 

“That’s tomorrow night.” The man on the stool sitting next to her said. ‘That’s tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow?” Grace repeated. “Tomorrow?” Since she was in the bar, she decided to have a cocktail. She sipped it slowly slipping sly glances at the man on the stool next to her. He was tall, she could tell, even though he was sitting. His posture was erect and he had large masculine hands. He wore no wedding ring. He stared straight ahead and never gave Grace another look. By the end of her cocktail, Grace had decided she was interested and turned to make a remark, but the back of the bar was lined with mirror and she caught a glimpse of a woman attractive but not young and it took her a moment to realize it was herself.  Even in the dim bar lighting, it was obvious she was miles older than the man. Her expensively blonded hair looked a hard white. The careful makeup did nothing to conceal the concave cheeks and was that the beginning of a bent back? She could easily have been taken for his mother. The thought that she had been about what she had been about to do gave her nausea. She slipped off the stool, the strap of her left slingback slipped from her foot and the heel clicked on the floor like the closing of a lock as she stood. She left the bartender a medium tip and walked what seemed a very long way to the door on a floor that seemed to tilt. Behind her she could hear some laughter but was not sure of who or why.

Back at home, Grace sat on the edge of her bed to remove her jewelry. Something was poking her. When she pulled back the blanket,she saw it was the other black T-strap.

“People do forget things. Lose things. It’s not unusual.” Sally was saying over lunch. “I do .” Sally sipped her iced water, then added, “On occasion.” But Sally – Grace knew - was disorganized in thought and habit. Grace was looking at the oversized handbag Sally carried that had fallen over and its contents spilling out on the restaurant floor. Sally hadn’t even noticed the mélange of personal items on display. Sally carried huge handbags packed full of anything, everything one could need for a week’s stay. Sally herself described it that way. “You never know when you’re going to meet your prince charming and have to stay for a week and there’s not your favorite toothpaste”. Grace had seen Sally produce band-aids, nail polish, shoe polish, spot remover, Peds, hair spray (for wrinkled clothing), socks, mouthwash and more exotics.

“Well, I don’t.” Grace said. “Forget things I mean. Certainly not dates.” 

“Well.” Sally said.

“Well what?”

“Well we’re not getting any younger.” Grace knew Sally meant Grace by this remark. Sally wasn’t much past 30.

“I’m only 60!” Grace said. “That’s not old these days.”

“Okay.” Grace said.

A long look in the mirror when Grace got home. She didn’t look 30 for sure but her mind, her memory, herself wasn’t 60. She had to admit some things had changed. Dancing was work now. To go dancing occurred to her less and less. Nothing was where she left it last. Or maybe it was and she just didn’t leave it where it had always been left. People, places and things held a kind of blur about them, books and conversations had begun to run together like water over a fall and there never seemed to be enough salt or sugar on anything. But the worst part, the very worst, was the limbo. The loss of urgency or importance of anything. The easy rationalization around the loss of a client, the lessening of phone calls to and from friends, too much happiness at bedtime. And sleep. When had all this slippage begun? Everyday seemed like yesterday. Everyday seemed normal. The buildings, the birds, the how to drive a car all seemed the same. And yet the persons across the lunch tables were now 30 and she was not. Her clients were 30 and she was not. There seemed to be fewer men.  

She was daydreaming now as she sat in a lecture hall listening to the last of a presentation by a potential new client. Possibly a lucrative one. She was not listening for the “in” to be used in the conversation later, the little second when she would turn the conversation into a contract and the client into a believer. The little instinctual habit she had that had taken her places in the past. Made her outstanding. Fed her bank account. This instinct had been replaced by daydreams. In this case, daydreaming about the ride home in her comfortable car and the smell of gardenia’s that she knew would greet her as she lifted her mail from her box. They were in bloom now.

“I’ll think about it.” the professor was saying in the professor’s office. The eulogy to a sales call.

“Thank you.” Grace said. The benediction and now time to leave. And she was glad to leave and walk in her T-straps to her comfortable car in which she drove to the corner, pulled over to the curb and sobbed.

“I’m surprised.” Her boss, Bob, was saying. “This isn’t like you. Your numbers weren’t this low even when you first started.” Bob had a square German face and narrow blue eyes so light they looked white. He had no lips at all and because of his accent he sounded mean even when being kind. It must be hard for him, Grace had thought many times.

“I don’t know what’s wrong.” Grace said.

“A vacation?” Bob said. Bob himself never took vacations. His work was his vacation. He loved the company he had built, everyone there had been handpicked by him personally, he had a couch long enough for him to sleep on and he often did. There was a shower in the private toilet attached to his office.

“Maybe a week.” Grace said and for a moment she believed it and felt better. “Yes, maybe a week would do me good.”

A week later Grace called Bob and said she needed another week. And then another and finally she resigned. She sat on her patio and looked into sky the way she had done every day of every week since she began her ersatz vacation. She was down to cheese and crackers and soup every day with coffee not wanting to go out to the store. She bathed infrequently.

Her apartment however was immaculate. All the shoes were in their boxes and the hangers pointed in the same direction. Papers were filed. There were no unanswered emails or phone calls. Now she could begin to think, she told herself. She could begin to observe and understand what was happening.

The first thing she noticed was how quiet her building was. Her apartment. Her phone never rang. She called Sally.

“Hello?” It was Sally’s voice.

“Hello, Sally. It’s Grace. I haven’t heard from you in ages. I thought I would give you a call.”

“Oh hello, Grace. How nice. How are you.” Sally’s voice seemed unsurprised and  distracted. Grace could hear papers rattling.

“Do you have a minute? Did I interrupt anything?”

“Oh yes. I mean yes, I can talk for a minute. Are you alright?”

“Yes, I hadn’t heard from you that’s all. I quit my job.”

“You quit your job?” the rattling stopped. “When did you quit?”

“About a month ago.”

“It’s been a month since we had lunch?”

“Yes about a month.”

“Good god time flies.” The rattling started again. “Well what are you doing?”

Grace didn’t know how to answer this. She didn’t want to say I’m doing nothing.

“Just thinking over my options.”

“Well!” Sally said. “That is news. Look I have to go to this thing and I’m not dressed. Can I call you tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Grace said. I’ll be here. “

“Okay talk tomorrow.”

When Sally didn’t call the next day or the next or the next, Grace was surprised that she was not surprised. She made other calls with the same result. She finally scored a lunch date with Manuel, a former neighbor. They met at a deli a couple of blocks from where Sally lived. It was chit-chat and laissez-faire type talk and Grace realized she didn’t miss it – any of it – at all. When she got home she went through her closet and threw out exactly half her shirts. It seemed the thing to do.

“Hello?” Grace almost didn’t recognize her own voice as she spoke into the telephone. It had been a while since she had spoken to anyone. The lunch with Manuel was almost two weeks ago. When she said hello it really was a question. It really was a question of “is anyone there?”.

“Grace?” The person on the other end wasn’t sure it was Grace either. ‘Is this Grace?”

“Yes.” She said lowering her voice to make it sound more concrete.

“Grace, it’s Bob. From the office?” A couple of seconds of silence and Bob’s face came into view.   

“Of course” Grace laughed a little more for her sake than his. “Of course. How are you Bob?” She was pleased that she had not forgotten social amenities.

“Listen, I know you’re busy and weren’t expecting my call” Bob hurried on as Grace remembered people who were busy do, “But do you have a minute? I need your help with something. I will pay you of course.”

“Oh. Oh yes. Please go on.” Motor memory would carry her. This is what one said under these circumstances.

“Well ….” Bob went on to discuss the details. Apparently a former client of Grace’s had requested a presentation and asked for her to be the presenter. He gave a date and Grace agreed to go. She remembered the client and the company and the company culture and how well she had done there before. She even remembered what she had worn. It was well paid and she could use the money.

When the check arrived a note from Bob was included. It was polite but clear that the client reviews of her presentation were not good. Grace knew she had gotten off track several times, there were too many silences and the client claimed she had not hit on the points asked for. They were sorry to have to report a disappointing result. Predictably there were no other calls from Bob.

Running low on money, Grace resorted to selling things online to survive. Two of her favorite paintings went first. Some designer shoes and suits. And finally some upscale overpriced kitchen appliances. Soon she would have to move. It was that or her car had to go. Her half hearted job searches were going nowhere and no one was calling her back for even the most temporary of assignments. A particular Monday rolled around and Grace stood in the middle of her now empty apartment.

She sat confused in the middle of her living room on a pillow. What had happened? In a year, she had gone from the top of her game to selling off her possessions to survive. Her life had become so quiet that the sudden hum of her refrigerator gave her a start. Oddly she felt nothing. Not scared. Not hurt. Not lonely. Not anything. She remembered Sally’s remark about meeting a prince charming and smiled.

In her empty closet, she removed a large backpack. In it she put some toiletries, some underclothes, a pair of jeans and with only the shoes on her feet she closed the door behind her on her apartment.

When she left the apartment building and crossed the street to the park facing her former building, it was chilly. She paid a dollar for a coffee at the small store she had used for so many years and sat in the chill sipping it slowly. And now, now, she felt the breeze on her face. She waited.