A mother leaves her young son to take a movie role and pays a huge price for her ambition. 3,044 words. Illustration by John Mann.
During Grace’s divorce hearing five years ago, her husband Ted described her as follows: "If Grace was late for an interview at the studios and our son George, who she loves more than anything in the world, had a heart attack, she’d wait till she got back from the interview to call 911."
As fate would have it, the judge had also been married to an actress when he was young. Ted got full custody. Things changed. A truck lost control and hit Ted’s car, broadside, at a stop sign. It took five hours for the jaws of life to pry him loose and he was confined to an assisted living facility ever since.
As a result, George moved in with Grace full time.
Since his upcoming birthday, his sixth, was their first together, Grace was determined to make it the best ever, assuring Ted he had nothing to worry about and she cared more about their son than any interview. She bought George a shiny red-and-white Schwinn, the same one Pee-wee Herman had in Pee-wee’s Big Adventure, on sale in the Bloomingdale’s Christmas catalogue. Since George had never ridden a two wheeler before, Grace led him outside to a secure area, stood behind the bike and held onto the seat while he tried to pedal. White-faced with fear, the boy wobbled and fell but, after countless failed attempts, broke free. Picking up speed till he was little more than a blur, his smile increased proportionately to the realization of his achievement.
Eventually, he doubled back to where his mother was standing. Only Grace wasn’t smiling. She was inspecting her right hand, the one that held the bike, punctured by the metal spring that attached the seat to its frame. Having severed a small artery below the skin, she saw her blood spurt everywhere.