On Grace by Susie Orman Schnall Page A

scream “Oh my God!” when she saw the two policemen at the door. The next few days are a complete blur in my memory. All I can make out in my mind are a steady stream of people, the phone constantly ringing, people coming softly into my blue-flower-wallpapered bedroom where I had retreated, and the horrific sound of my mother wailing. Up to that point, I had only heard my mother cry. Wailing is a completely different sound. Like an animal mother in the jungle who has just lost her baby to prey.
    Our family was always close, but there had been alliances. My mom and Eva had that oldest-daughter thing going for them. Plus, Eva was everything my fancy boutique-owning mother could crave in a daughter: she was girly and she lived for clothes. My dad and Danielle were tight because she loved to play poker and go to the horse races with him. I had a good relationship with both of my parents, but my older sisters had them first.
    I was closest with Danielle. We had long conversations, first about how we should do Barbie’s hair, then about who was our favorite on Charlie’s Angels , then about boys, and everything in between. And she taught me a lot, too: from how to tie my shoes when I was five to more advanced things as we got older like how to practice kissing boys with a pillow and how to hug your friend and smoke a cigarette at the same time without burning said friend’s long, 1980s, Aqua Net-saturated curly hair.
    Danielle’s death severely affected everyone in my family in different ways. I just became a very sad girl. I escaped into my friendships and alienated my parents when I probably needed them the most. They were just too clingy then. Now, as a mother, I realize they were trying not to lose me. But back then, I thought they just didn’t understand me. I started smoking pot with some of my friends who were into that. But I never lost myself. I always did well in school, I kept up with my dance classes, I respected my parents’ curfews and rules. I just had this foggy outer self that I turned to now and then when I didn’t want to be safe Grace.
    Everyone at school knew what had happened, and most kids were afraid to talk to me. Elise Connors, who was in all my honors classes but was more of an acquaintance, actually told me that she didn’t want to bring up my sister because she didn’t want to remind me of it. She didn’t realize that I was reminded of it every minute of every day.
    When I went to Penn and started to develop new relationships, I felt the need to tell close friends about Danielle. I didn’t think people could truly know me unless they knew about her. Cameron was really supportive, asking to see photos of her, and saying all the right things when the tears and memories would start rushing in.
    Now that I’m older and time has softened the acute pain, I mostly miss Danielle in times like this. Times of crisis when I know her advice would have been better than my mom’s and Eva’s. I realize I can’t really know that, because she was only a teenager when she died. But a profound relationship with a sister is like no other relationship, and we just knew each other so well. Sure, my mom and Eva know me, but they can be a little “on” for my taste sometimes.
    I check the time, wash my plate, and head outside to greet the bus. Lorna calls to me as I make my way to the corner.
    “Grace, I’m so glad I saw you. I feel like I haven’t seen you the last couple days. Anyhoo, how is school going for the boys so far?” she asks. I know she’s genuine, but there’s just something too damn perfect about her that drives me nuts. She’s like overly tasteful monogrammed powder room hand towels ironed just so. An impeccably matched outfit with no stains. A proper dinner party where nothing goes wrong.
    “It’s been going great, thanks so much for asking. How about for the triplets?” I ask.
    “Stupendo! It’s their last year in the elementary school, and they’re starting to act a little