Amazing Grace
Depressed, broke and now homeless things weren’t looking good for Terry.
You’re a fuckin loser! his wife had screamed at him as he ran out the door with only a t-shirt and jeans on. Asshole!
Terry was pissed again. His head swam in a sea of sadness. Madness. Is this what happened to his dad? He had judged him all his life. Hated him with a passion. He had never been there for him and even now…now he still couldn’t ask him for help.
It wasn’t his wife’s fault. He had been a loser lately. He’d lost his job, his mind and his self respect. Lost it all in one week. They’d lost a baby. But he knew where it was. Their baby was by the bed. In an urn.
He left the car on purpose. Couldn’t afford the car anyway. Didn’t want the responsibility. Any responsibility. He just wanted to be dead. Couldn’t even do that.
Feet get tired when the booze and adrenalin wears off. Everything starts to fall off. The day becomes night faster than normal. The world gets darker and people’s faces fall as the moon rises. Terry saw the world for what it was and he didn’t like it. But he couldn’t go home. It was just a house now.
Hungry and exhausted he saw a church sign. Let Jesus be your saviour!
Ok let him, mumbled Terry as he stumbled up ….saviour me Jesus. I’m fucked…
He leant against the door frame before he entered. The lino floors, handmade quilt signs and tired easter coloring in competitions a religious dogs’ breakfast. Smiling faces with shining saved eyes drank him in with fervour. Someone to give them a leg up to heaven.
It was then that the old lady accosted him. Pentacostled him. You ok dear? She said with knowing eyes. Have some soup. Some bread. A nice cup of tea and come home with me. I’ve got room since Harold went.
Terry complied. He was compliant these days. It wasn’t worth fighting with old people. They were tough old birds these widows. With nice houses.
Harold was about your size, Grace smiled with porcelain teeth as she walked towards him holding a woollen jumper and slippers. Never worn, don’t worry dear…died before his birthday. He would have loved them.
Terry looked at the old woman looking after him. He had never had a grandmother and she was what he imagined one would be. Soft, smelling of talc and warm hearted. The three of them could live together. Her, Terry and Jesus. He was present at every meal. The silent guest in every room.
Grace’s friends were all in the same boat. It was like the old men had a death pact. They had willed themselves off early after retirement. The thought of being home nagged day and night a powerful and lethal injection. Terry had almost started prematurely. Until he met Grace. She encouraged him to live.
What do you love dear? She said one night. What’s your passion.
Drinking? He replied with a sigh now 3 months sober.
Come on dear, you can do better than that. What career can you do?
I used to be in real estate believe it or not..
Why you’d be wonderful at that. You are so good with people. My friends just love you.
Thanks Grace, yes I could always sell them. That’s the easy part. The hard bit is finding the houses to sell. You know, convincing people to sell..
Well I’ll put a good word in for you at the church if you like. Lots of my friends will be moving to god’s waiting room soon.
Terry shrugged, I’ll sleep on it
Sweet dreams dear.
Grace woke Terry up in the morning with a nice cup of tea and the paper. Employment section open and an ad circled in red texta.
It’s your time to shine dear, she said with a beam.
Maybe it will be different this time, Tery smiled back.
His first listing was a deceased estate. He knew it would be a cracker auction. They always were. The buyers swam in circles around them like sharks. Could smell the blood in the water. Taste the bargain.
The old lady choked on a cream bun, said Terry to Grace who was busy in the kitchen. How’s that for bad luck? Still good luck for me. That’s my first sale back under my belt. The boss is wrapped. Thanks for the tip off.
Just heard through the church group dear. Happy to help. You deserve a hand.
It had started with a cream bun stuck to Elsie’s falseteeth. She had just stuffed the last one in and finished her cup of tea when she ran out of spit. Eyes bulging she grabbed at Grace’s cup when on a whim Grace poured it into the pot plant. Elsie gagged by the bakery delight gargled with horror as her tired goose neck wobbled with red flesh. Pinched nostrils flaring, trying to do the job of a much larger orifice.
Too bad you can’t breathe through your bum said Grace. You push enough air out of it.
Terry’s next listing was a double block and a deceased estate too. Twin spinsters sharing a life, a house and an allergy. The peanut eclair was a stroke of genius taking out two old dears at the same bridge match.
Wow! Said Terry as he came in the door with a smile that hurt. Double trouble..two in one, cachow! Met the executors, auction next month, MITB.
What’s that dear, asked Grace head in the pantry.
Money in the bank! Thanks again for the referral
Oh dear, it’s really nothing. Just a whisper from the social committee. You could have found out yourself easy enough.
Terry grabbed himself a beer and sat down in front of the TV. He was on fire.
Grace was thrilled to see Terry doing so well. And so happy. It was nice to have a man around the house again.
When Terry’s third listing was a deceased estate, people at the office started saying things…
Look at you go mate! You legend. You’re a freakin ambulance chaser, mate!
More like a hearse chaser…hahaha
Just keep doing what you’re doing fella, ching ching!!
Terry didn’t think about it. He just felt the old sales glow and knew he was on a roll.
Grace watched as the car rolled down the embankment. Joan the diabetic wouldn’t eat one of her cakes so she had to run her off the road instead. She stuffed an angel cake in her mouth as she drove off. Extra icing. That stuff will kill me, she’d said.
Her home took a little longer to sell…but she always was hard work.
And so it went on.
Oh Grace, your scones are to die for …
And…
your upside down cake has me in conniptions…
Followed by…
Your white christmas should be called stairway to heaven..
Terry was flat out. He’d never been so busy. The listings were coming in thick and fast. He was knocking them under the hammer left, right and centre. Sweet!
Grace was busy too. Always baking something for a fundraiser, church do or friends farewell. Always trying new recipes which he wasn’t allowed to try until she was happy with them. It was living with his mother but he didn’t care. She looked after him and business was good. He could feel the change in him. He was getting back to his old self.
He set himself goals. He worked out at the gym. He bought himself new clothes and even leased a new car. New beginnings. Maybe buying his own house. He had nailed this church database. This ageing population. His future was looking bright.
You’re not moving out dear? asked Grace nervously. You can stay as long as you want you know. You’re hardly here as it is these days.
Terry stood with his back to Grace looking in the mirror at himself. Slick hair, cufflinks, new suit and tie. Flash as a rat with a gold tooth his old boss would have said. Just need the gold tooth now.
Don’t worry Grace, I won’t do anything in a hurry. I’m still a few sales short of my target he called out as he jumped into his new BMW.
Time to back off on the baking muttered Grace to herself. Harold left me when he got too big for his boots. Ran off with that young floozie. Didn’t know the recipe for a good marriage back then.
Confidence grew back at the church too. No one had died recently. The spate of bad luck and stomach complaints had stopped as soon as it started. Jesus was back and answering their prayers. Although Grace’s cakes were missed sorely.
Terry hit a dry patch. His phone stopped ringing. No houses meant no money. No lifestyles of the rich and famous, no BMW. His luck was taking a turn for the worst.
I can’t believe it, he said in disgust as he threw his jacket on the couch that night. This has been the worst month since I started. I’m looking at a big fat zero. A duck egg! No listings equals no job with these guys. There’s no friends unless you’re winning.
I’m your friend, said Grace, I’ll look after you. I always have haven’t I? C’mon dear let’s have a lovely dinner and watch the tellie. I’ve made your favourite stew.
Terry was defeated again. Compliant. Women were definitely the stronger sex. He watched Grace get around the kitchen with amazing speed for an old girl. No doubt about it. She did keep herself active.
He comfort ate with her in front of the TV and tried to switch off. Couldn’t. His boss’s words rang in his ears. Next house you’ll be selling is your own unless something changes.
He just needed one listing this month. Just one.
Grace…
No answer. Just old lady snoring. Glasses askew on a lined face.
He looked at Grace sleeping peacefully in front of the Tv. She looked so peaceful. Resting in peace.
No…yes..no…YES
They always said I’d sell my grandmother out for a sale, he said to himself as he grabbed a floral cushion and walked towards the recliner. Thanks for everything Grace. You’ve been amazing.
She didn’t wake up.
Rack em, pack em and stack em. Light it up like a Christmas tree. This one’s going to go off like a Fire cracker he said after with a grin. Auction this Sunday! Terry had bit the hand that fed him.
He quickly went through Grace’s belongings to find anything of value and threw a few drawers on the ground to create a burglary scene. He had to cover his tracks. He broke a window and left her jewellery box on the floor. Packed a suitcase and grabbed his things.
Gonna miss your cooking he said as he scoffed a cup cake on the way out. You haven’t lost your touch.
He made it to the car.
Grace had decided she would throw him a listing this week. He had his cake. But he couldn’t eat it too.
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