Everything Happens for the Best
Sarah Williamsmother of Gracewas fiercely committed to moulding her daughter in her own image. She fancied herself a pillar of strength and success, and thus expected Grace to follow her lead to the letter, no room for creative detours.
“Grace,” Sarah would say with eyebrows arched in matriarchal authority, “if you want to achieve as much as I have, you must walk the very path I lay before you. No wandering off, understood? I hope this lesson sticks for life.”
“Yes, Mum,” Grace would reply, dutiful as ever.
Grace adored her mother and always tried to heed her advice, terrified of letting her down. Her mothers dream? To see in Grace the very essence of a flawless Miss Perfection. Yet, the older Grace became, the harder that seemed.
After all, a childs a childGrace spilled things, tore things, tumbled and smashed. But her academic scores? Spotless. She knew well enough: a C on her report card would be nothing short of a national crisis for her mum.
“Oh, Grace, what a disgrace. How could you possibly get a C? Have you no respect for your father and me? Please stop embarrassing us and fix this immediately.”
“Alright, Mum,” Grace would say, trying to sneak in a protest, “Mum, come on, it was just the one… and it was a fluke”
“Doesnt matter, darling. You must be bettersmarter than all the rest.”
Though it stressed her, Grace quickly turned her C into an A. She finished school with flying coloursthere was never any doubt about that. Sarah Williams beamed with pride when her daughter sailed through the university entrance exams.
“Well done, love,” she even managed to say one day, “keep this up, and youll make me even prouder.”
Sarah ran a construction company, which was hardly a typical field for women, but she ruled it with such iron will that many businessmen wondered how she managed it. She never doubted for a second that Grace would join her empire after graduation.
Of course, Grace longed to break free, spread her own wings, and even secretly dreamed of university in another city. Fat chance.
“Youll stay put where I can keep an eye on you,” her mother snapped, “whats this nonsense about London or Bristol? We have a perfectly good university right here.”
As always, Grace couldnt argue. In her third year at university, something monumental happenedshe actually fell head over heels. Sure, shed gone on a few dates, mostly on the sly, but nothing serious.
Then along came Jamie Barker, with his cheeky grin and mop of blond hair, and her heart dissolved. Jamie was in the same year but a different class. While schoolwork came easily to Grace, Jamie well, academic achievement wasnt exactly his thing. He particularly loathed coursework. One afternoon he cornered Grace outside the library:
“Grace, help! Im drowning in this coursework, can you lend a hand?”
“Of course, Ill help,” she replied, delighted for the excuse.
So began a pattern: Grace wrote Jamies course papers, and in return, he supplied her with romanceand let her love him. They met up, strolled through parks, went to the cinema and cafes.
Sarah Williams grew suspicious and confronted her head-on.
“Grace, have you fallen for someone?”
“How on earth do you know?” Grace gasped.
“Its written all over your face… Bring him round. I want to see what kind of bird he isdoes he fly high or just flutter?”
So Grace invited Jamie over. He was thoroughly inspected by both parents and, to her surprise, even Sarah didnt nitpick. When Jamie finally left, her mother delivered her verdict:
“Honestly, Grace. The lads using you, plain as. Not a thought in that head, and nothing to talk about. What exactly do you see in him?”
“Thats just not true, Mum,” replied Graceher first real stand. “Jamie is ambitious, well-read, interested in history. Maybe hes not as intimidating as you, but not everyones cut from your cloth. Besides, hes young yet.”
“He is absolutely the wrong choice for you,” Mum declared, unmoved.
Grace decided, finally, to stick to her guns.
“Sorry, Mum, but whatever you think of Jamie, I love him and Im not going to stop seeing him.”
Sarah shot her daughter a look of utter exasperation and flung her hands in the air.
“Youll seehes a total non-entity!”
Grace ignored her mothers gloomy predictions and, after graduation, married Jamie. For a moment, it looked like Mum had been wrong.
Life, as it tends to do, proved a point: sometimes the C-graders shoot up the ladder, while the straight-A students hold the ladder steady. Jamie landed himself a rather plush job, while Grace found herself caught under her mothers considerable wing.
Jamie came with his own flata generous gift from his parents while he was at uniwhich meant freedom from Mums reign, but not from her tether, as Grace ended up working in Sarahs firm.
One evening, Jamie arrived home in high spirits.
“Gracie, theyve given me a managers position! Only on probationbut Ill make it stick, youll see.”
And so he did: a quick few months later, he was officially promoted. Jamie wasnt keen on the idea of his wife toiling away under her mothers shadow.
“Grace, youll never get anywhere working for your mum. Time to cut those apron strings,” he grumbled. “Youll spend your life tiptoeing around her moods. She bosses you aroundhell, shes a tyrant, and you you let her!”
Being called a doormat by her own husband stung, but she knew there was truth in it. Eventually, Jamie stopped complaining about her spinelessness, but that didnt make things any easier. He grew withdrawn and indifferent, and, to be honest, Grace found it a relief: at least hed stopped nagging.
A year passed. Then, one evening, Jamie walked in and quietly announced:
“Ive met someone else. I love her. Im leaving you. Sheswell, shes real, you know?”
For the first time, something in Grace snapped. She shouted, hurled a plate, lobbed Jamies phone at the wall, tore a few shirts, then finally calmed down.
Jamie watched the spectacle in silence, finally murmuring,
“Turns out, youve got spirit after all. Funny to learn that now.” And just like that, he left.
“I hate you! I really do,” Grace muttered, then packed her bags, found a flat to rent, and moved out.
She didnt breathe a word to her mother. She already knew the speech shed get. For about a month, or maybe longer, Grace managed to keep up the pretence, but Sarah Williams was not to be fooled.
“Grace, whats wrong? You look as if your souls left for the seasidetrouble with your husband?”
“What makes you say that? Theres no troublewith Jamie. Because, well, I havent got a Jamie anymore.”
“Oh, I knew it! Hes left you, hasnt he? When did this all happen?”
“Back in April.”
“And you kept it to yourself?”
Grace sighed. What was the point of arguing? She patiently endured the flood of negative wisdom about Jamie, and herself too, just for balance.
“Told you so. At least youre not his housemaid anymore. Thank goodness there are no children. My advice? Actually listen to me next time. Have you got that now?”
“Mum,” Grace replied unexpectedly, standing up, “everything happens for the best. And by the way, Im quitting the family firm. Had enough.” She swept out of the office, leaving Sarah thoroughly befuddled.
Grace resolved to get as far from her mother as possible. She knew the coming days would be full of lectures and constant supervision.
Limping with an injured ankle, she left her flat but didnt really know where she was headed. She hopped on a tram, got off at her stop, and promptly felltwisting her foot in some ridiculous pothole.
“Well, thats all I needed,” she thought, wincing with pain.
“Are you alright?” asked a young man nearby, having also alighted from the tram. He helped her up. The moment she tried to take a step, the pain shot through her.
“Does it hurt?” he asked sympathetically.
“A lot,” she grimaced.
“Right, hop onwell, lean on my shoulder,” he said. In a flash, he scooped her up and carried her to his car, before she could protest. “Lets get you to A&E, just in case its broken.”
“Im Tom,” he said, once they were underway. “And you?”
“Grace.”
In A&E, X-rays revealed just a sprainno break. Her ankle was wrapped in a rather unglamorous bandage, she was given strict instructions, and sent home. Tom waited with her, then drove her back.
“Can I have your number?” he asked politely, “in case you need a hand or something.”
Grace obliged. The very next day, Tom rang:
“Can I bring over anything you need? Bet your ankles still shot, isnt it?”
“Hmm, erm… juice, some fruit… Oh, and Im out of bread,” she confessed.
Soon, the bell rang. Grace hobbled to the door. In walked Tom, juggling two bags stuffed with food.
“Good heavens, whats all this?”
“Well,” Tom grinned, “were celebrating how we met! Dont worry, Ill do the lotor perhaps we can be on first-name terms?”
Grace burst out laughing. She found Tom refreshingly easy to be with.
Tom did all the worklaid the table, microwaved some kebabs, poured juice into glasses. No booze, he declaredhe didnt drink. The evening was a hit.
Four months on, Grace and Tom were married. A year later, they welcomed baby Emily. Whenever people asked where she had found such a terrific husband, Grace would laugh:
“He literally picked me up off the street! Dont believe me? Ask him yourself”
Thanks for reading, and best of luckmay everything turn out for the best!
