What a Character, Part 3 of 4

It's March 1st, time to introduce another of the four main characters from Once Upon A Project. By now, the winner of the complimentary copy I always choose from my newsletter subscribers and the winner of the movie trivia contest I ran here on my blog have been notified, so the only way you'll get a copy is to buy one, so preorder today!

Now that I've made my sales pitch, here we go!

Character Name: Grace Corrigan
Setting: Chicago, Spring 2007

I felt eyes on my back and looked over my shoulder at the two guys I passed, both of whom were looking back at me. I winked and kept going, a big grin on my face. They looked like they were in their early thirties. I'm forty-nine and the grandmother of two. But yet I still caught their eyes. It makes all my workouts, power walking, and those vitamin E creams and those oils I rub into my skin worthwhile.

I'm on a power walk now, through my Lincoln Park neighborhood. Just about every Saturday and Sunday morning I walk three or four miles, even if it's below freezing. At least it's above freezing this morning, but it's still chilly, about 40 degrees. It's cold days like this that I wonder how my second ex-husband is doing down there in Puerto Rico, where he went to accept a promotion to run the San Juan office of the global accounting service he works for. After long and careful consideration, I decided not to join him there. I was on the fast track in my career in public relations. What would I do in Puerto Rico, sit at home and supervise the housekeeper? I didn't even speak Spanish. No sitting around for me, thank you. For years I busted my ass to get my college education, and then my Master's. During much of that time I was a single mother to my only child, Shavonne. My ex adored her - still does - but it was only natural for him to want a child of his own. He thought the move would work well for us, that maybe I'd finally get pregnant if I became a housewife, and time was running out, since at the time I was in my late 30s.

What he didn't know is that I lied to him about fertility problems because I just didn't want to have any more kids. That put a lot of stress on our marriage - eventually it fell apart after we tried and failed at a commuter marriage. But he never found out I was on the Pill. Shavonne was about to graduate high school back then. I wanted to concentrate on my career and just didn't want to start over with diaper changes and a teething infant.

I got pregnant my senior year in high school. My parents were scandalized. They had such grand plans for me. I was going to be the first in my family to go to college. I'd already been awarded scholarships that paid for most of my tuition. My parents insisted that my boyfriend - now my first ex-husband - and I get married, and we did. That dingy apartment we lived in with its thrift store furnishings was even worse than the Dreiser projects where our families lived.

Most teen marriages fail, and ours was no exception. My ex went into the service and put in 20 years, earned a pension, and then took a cushy job in state government in Austin, Texas. He's remarried and doing well, which makes me happy. He wasn't around a whole lot after our divorce because of his Army career, but he contributed to Shavonne's care and saw her as often as he could. I'm proud to say that Shavonne is college-educated, has a good marriage and two great kids, including a brand new baby. I want my baby - she'll be 32 in October, but she's still my baby - to have all the good things life has to offer. I wouldn't mind being in a happy and fulfilling marriage myself, even if it would be a ridiculous third time. You know what they say about the third time being the charm.

Now that I think about it, most of us kids who grew up together in the Dreiser Projects did pretty well as adults. Elyse is a physical therapist. Pat is a prosecutor at the State Attorney's Office. Susan married a millionaire and hasn't worked since she had her first baby, but before that she spent 15 years as an accountant.

No one had more earnings potential than Douglas Valentine, who was six feet, six inches and was drafted by the NBA his senior year at Duke. And Ricky Suarez didn't do too badly, either. He owns two restaurants, a luncheonette in the factory district and a nicer place downtown. I wonder if Pat's parents ever had second thoughts about breaking up their affair, especially since Pat never got married and they never got to have grandchildren. I know my mother tried like hell to get me to stay with my second husband. She never came out and said it, but I think she thought I'd never get another husband who could keep up with me in the earnings department.

She was probably right. I haven't even had a serious relationship in the nine years since my second divorce. I'm Director of Public Relations for a pharmaceutical firm with offices on five continents, and that intimidates a lot of guys. Or else they're looking to get what they can out of me, like the keys to my Mercedes.

It's not like I haven't tried to find Mr. Right. I wouldn't want this to get out, but I had flings with both Douglas Valentine and Ricky Suarez. Douglas and Susan were an item all through high school and beyond, but she broke up with him when he was photographed smooching some other girl while living the high life of an NBA player. Eventually she took up with his brother, Charles. But after she tossed Douglas out, I thought I might be able to get him straight. I knew that one day I'd be making good money, and I wanted a man who was worth something as well. I soon found out that Susan had done the right thing. Even way back then Douglas had a serious substance abuse problem that eventually wrecked both his career and his life.

My fling with Ricky came years later, after I saw a newspaper article about him that mentioned he was getting divorced. By then we were in our early 40s. I got farther with Ricky than I had with Douglas, but then Ricky had a guilt attack and ended it. (Douglas felt no such guilt, even though he and my first husband were friends, just like Susan and me.) I thought Ricky's thinking was ridiculous. Here I was, risking my friendship with Pat for him, and he and Pat hadn't been a couple in over twenty years, for crying out loud. But he wouldn't listen and insisted that it had all been a mistake. We ended up going our separate ways, and I'm still alone. Just like Pat, who is, by the way, my most frequent companion. I haven't seen Susan in years, and Elyse has been pretty scarce, too.

I start swinging my arms with real vigor as I approach the Lincoln Park condo I bought after my second divorce. A white guy smiles at me and I smile back, although I'm thinking, Not a chance, buddy. I love me some brothers. Ricky was a white as I'd go, and he's darker than a lot of black people I know.

Pat's put together a reunion luncheon of former residents of the Dreiser Projects. I have little interest in lunching with a bunch of little old gray-haired ladies, who will probably make up the bulk of the attendees. They'll all ask if I'm married, and when I say no, they'll nod their heads knowingly, thinking that my success has priced me out of the marriage market.

Well, I'm not giving up. But to me, going to an event with no prospects for a date is a waste of time. I'll do it for Pat, who wants to make the point that living in the projects is supposed to be temporary, not a forever thing. She wants as many successful people as possible to attend. I know she means well, which is why I've let her drag me to things like Career Day at the high school to talk to kids who couldn't care less about how they would make a living as adults. If you ask me, if she spent as much time looking for a husband as she does getting involved in community affairs, she'd have found one long ago. Elyse and Susan are both coming, and it'll be good to see them, since neither lives in Chicago anymore.

Yes, this luncheon will be a big waste of time. But you never know who might show up at the after-party at Junior's Bar . . . .