Free On Grace by Susie Orman Schnall Page A

Beamer.
    My mom and I talk a couple times a week, and I always look forward to catching up with her. She asks me about the boys and the first week of school. She is an amazing grandmother, and the boys adore her. They have a weekly Skype “date” on Sunday afternoons during which the boys do an art exhibit, showing her all the projects they made in camp, now school, that week. It’s very sweet and I’m thrilled that they have a good relationship. Much better than they have with my dad or Darren’s parents.
    “So, get this. I lost my job at the Westchester Weekly , but I have an interview Monday for a new job,” I tell my mom and proceed to fill her in on all that drama.
    “That’s great, Gracie. I just wish you’d give yourself a little break, though. You’re finally getting time for yourself. Why don’t you just relax a little? Take some cooking classes. Join a theater club and get into the city more often.”
    “I can’t do nothing, I need to do something,” I say.
    “Those things aren’t nothing. They’re rewarding and fun.”
    “But they wouldn’t be fulfilling for me. I need to accomplish something. I need to work at something productive.”
    “Okay, well, it was just a suggestion. But you were always so hard on yourself, so I guess I understand. The website job sounds great, Gracie. Right up your alley. You’ll be fabulous.” My mom really likes the word fabulous. As does my sister Eva. They probably use the word fabulous more often than a Beverly Hills wedding planner.
    “I really hope it works out. I might not get it though. She’s interviewing other candidates who probably have more recent experience than I do and are more on the pulse of this wellness stuff.”
    “Don’t sell yourself short, darling. And don’t assume that anyone has anything over you. You are fabulous, and you deserve that job. So stay confident and put it out into the universe that you want it, and it will be yours.” I’m assuming the reason she’s driving down Santa Monica Boulevard is because she’s on her way to her guru’s office. My mom employs practitioners in all of the “healing arts,” as she likes to call them.
    At this point, I debate whether to tell my mom about Darren. She is a BFOD—Big Fan of Darren—and she’ll be devastated, but she always gives me great advice, and I know she’ll pull through this time, as well. I’m just not sure if I want to get into it with her.
    “How’s Darren?” she asks, and I decide to go for it.
    “Mom, I have to tell you something,” I say, and I know it sounds ominous. I walk to the couch in our sunroom and sit down.
    Dead silence.
    “What, Gracie. What is it?” she asks, and I hear her voice quaver.
    “Darren cheated on me.” I start to cry—talking to my mom about emotional things has always reduced me to a puddle—and tell her the whole story. She doesn’t interrupt me once.
    “Oh, Gracie. I’m so sorry.” She asks me all sorts of questions: When did it happen? When did he tell you? Was it the first time? And then she surprises me. “I know it’s going to be hard to trust him for a while, but you two will work through it. What you have is too important to give up over one silly night.”
    “Seriously, Mom?” I ask in a sarcastic voice. “You think I should just forgive him and act like nothing ever happened? I don’t know if I can do that.”
    “Of course you can forgive him, Gracie. I’m not saying that you should pretend it didn’t happen. Go see someone together. Work it out. You can’t do that to Henry and James.”
    “ I can’t do that?” I start sounding a bit hysterical. “Wouldn’t it be Darren doing that? So now, he did what he did, and if I decide that I would have a problem being married to a man who goes around sleeping with cocktail waitresses, it would be my fault for screwing up Henry’s and James’s lives? Is that what you’re saying?” I am feeling incredulous at this point.
    “No, Gracie. Take a deep breath,