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Normally this is perfect sleeping weather, and just now, just as I am about to return to bed, the lights come back on. I’d forgotten to turn the Christmas tree light off, and there it is, framed in the doorway to the living room, Twinkling its multicolored lights at me. My mind isn’t really on the tree, though. All that I can think of is that cup of coffee, I need that cup of coffee. No, that’s not the only thing I am thinking of. I’m thinking that I’m going to be having a nice, hot cup of coffee and Grace isn’t. Where’s Grace? It that park where I left her on Grant this afternoon have anything in the way of a shelter? I can’t remember. And was that her car I’d seen being towed this evening? If so, she likely didn’t have any shelter at all. I kept telling myself that this was her choice—a choice she had made and had every right to make. But I was just kidding myself. I hadn’t ever asked her that question—whether she lived that way by choice or by chance. I’d spent no real time on. I was enjoying myself so much and neurotically worrying so much if I was good enough, I hadn’t taken a moment to think about the wedding. Many of the choices others are routinely granted had been taken from me by my Father’s needs. Some of the thrill of self indulgence had been taken from me by Jeff. He didn’t care how much I overindulged myself as long as that would allow him to live with me as his wife. What a killjoy. For sure Jen and Sandy would be bridesmaids. I was pretty sure I would be assigned some economically correct bridesmaids from my Father’s world and probably some from the family. It was getting more difficult to think about this as my day, the most important day in my life. Jeff wanted to talk about the ring. I thought that was settled. I loved the ring. I assured him I loved the ring. ‘That’s great,’ said Jeff. ‘You can keep it and it’s your ring. You could also get another and switch off with your mood.’ ‘But,’ I started to object. ‘Before Dad came up with the idea.
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