money and success.
I felt the nod against my chest. I hugged her close. I tried not to give voice to the thousand platitudes that pushed against my tongue. My assessment of her work wasn’t going to matter right now because she was flayed open by the criticism of this Dr. Rossum, but I couldn’t keep quiet.
“Your vision of the world, Grace, of making the boring and simple objects seems so interesting is part of what makes you so amazing. If other people didn’t view your work as unique and special, no one would be asking you to take pictures. No one would be paying you real money. Real money, Grace, is the currency of criticism. Not words.”
Grace remained quiet, only the soft hiccupy sounds of her breath could be heard in the still room.
I didn’t know how to fix this. I wasn’t going to convince Grace that she was awesome at photography, so I did the one thing that I knew how to do.
Her sorrow had exhausted her. She watched me with big eyes, wet with her earlier tears, as I undressed her. I swept my hands in long, soothing motions down her body until I could hear her breath quicken and see her body flush in response. When she moved to reach for me, I looped her wrists lightly in my right hand. “Let me do all the work, honey.”
I slid down her body, running my mouth over her soft, rounded belly and lower still until I rested between her lush thighs. “I promise you won’t even notice the time passing.” Then I was too busy doing other things with my tongue and mouth to say another word.
Grace voiced no complaints. I knew that this was just a temporary fix, but it was all I could offer.
***
Leaving Grace sated and sweaty in bed, I padded to the kitchen to rummage around for something to eat. Grace’s apartment was the antithesis of our house. It was quiet and clean. At my house, the television was always on and there were always random people moving in and out to drink, play cards, or just hang out. Grace’s place was a sanctuary. I wanted to provide this kind of atmosphere for Grace and me; a place like this that could be a haven for both of us. I’d do anything to make that happen.
Chapter Sixteen
Grace
The next day, I felt wrung out, like day-old bread. All the soothing concern that Noah had lavished on me seemed to have dissipated with the rising sun. He didn’t want me to be alone that day and insisted that I go with him while he trained. I packed my books into my messenger bag and left the camera backpack lying in the corner. I wasn’t sure if I would ever feel the confidence to wield it again.
“Do you miss the Marines?” I asked, fiddling with the radio. I wondered if I would miss my camera. Sometimes I would forget I was even carrying it, since it was such a natural extension of my body. This morning when I picked up the camera bag, it felt like it weighed as much as a cement block and I could barely drag it into the closet. My portfolio was lying on the desk, and sitting on top was a mint tin emblazoned with the tilt shift photograph I had taken of the Alpha Phis. Lana must have left it for me last night. I assumed it was one of the many rush-related paraphernalia they had produced. Maybe it wasn’t true art, but I couldn’t deny a surge of pride when I looked at the tin with my photo printed on the lid.
“Sometimes, but not today,” he said, interrupting my reverie.
“Why not today?”
“Today is Field day. If I were still in the Marines, I would be cleaning today. Shining my shoes, cleaning the barracks. Everything.”
“But if today weren’t Field day?”
“It’s nice not to have every aspect of your life under someone else’s control. I don’t miss walking in the desert and disrobing in order to take a—well, you know. I don’t miss getting shot at. But I miss my brothers. I think that’s why Bo and I enjoy living with all the guys. There’s a sense of community there that we had in the Marines. Plus, you know, you were paid to shoot stuff up. It’s unreal in some ways. But every day was like a challenge, a competition between yourself and the elements or the insurgents.”
***
The Spartan gym looked like