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“Shit. Shit, piss, motherfucking—” Karen stumbles down the stairs, Grace tugging at her hair and shoe flying right off her foot—slamming into the front door with a thud. “Fuck!”
On her hip Grace giggles and babbles, clearly amused at her anger. Karen shoots her a small smile as they reach the bottom of the stairs, and she leaves the shoe for now, skirting around the corner and right into the kitchen.
Mark’s been working earlier and earlier these days. Gone before Karen wakes—which hasn’t been much of an issue. Except, well… Usually him waking is what wakes her, setting her off on her usual routine. Grace, coffee, breakfast, morning walk. The great start to any day. Every day really, all the same.
But, Mark’s never been the kind to behold her to expectations. They’d gone into this with that understanding—that as perfect as those masks, those facades were, when they’re away from prying eyes it was… back to normal. He let her sleep in, which usually would be a gift.
If Grace didn’t have a bible class at the church… Well, it actually started half an hour ago.
“Come on, Gracie,” she says, sitting her down on the edge of the counter, letting her entertain herself as she pulls a ladle from where it’s been left to dry beside the sink. Thwack, thwack, thwack. She smacks the utensil against her leg, and Karen hurries around the kitchen in search of everything she needs.
The two main priorities right now: breakfast and lunch. For Grace, that is. The church usually serves some assortment of coffee and tea after the first class—but Karen can’t let her baby go hungry. She shoves Grace’s favorite, something she knows she’ll keep down even in the car—honey drizzled oatmeal—and starts on the little sandwich. No crust, no meat, Grace doesn’t like those.
“Mmm…” Grace mumbles. “Bahbahbah…”
“That’s right Grace, bah-bah-bah,” Karen repeats under her breath, hands shaking as she puts together the sandwich and tucks it into the Tupperware. “That’s good.”
The doctors had assured her and Mark it’s fine that Grace is little behind on her first real words. Completely normal, she’ll catch up in no time. And Karen knows she should believe that… But, she can’t help but worry.
Worry when nothing but grumbles and sounds come from her daughter's mouth. Are they doing something wrong?
Well, that’s not exactly something she has time to worry about right now.
Click. Click.
She snaps the bright pink, translucent lid into place and swivels, ready to clip into her bag—
Smack.
“Fuck!” Karen slams face first into an open cabinet—their various mugs mocking her as she grumbles, rubbing her nose which took the brunt of the impact. It doesn’t feel broken….
“Ba…. Fuck!”
At that, Karen’s blood runs cold. Her fingers curl around the container in her hands, and she glances behind her to where Grace is still cradling the ladle. Grace smiles at her, her seven teeth poking from between her lips.
It took 15 months, and Grace said her first word…
“No…” she groans, moving back over to Grace to pick her up. “You didn’t say that word, did you, dear? I just… I hit my head, and I heard—”
“Fuck!”
“Oh no. Oh, Grace.” Her daughter must be amused by what Karen can only imagine is a deeply pained expression on her face, the way she giggles and grins unaware of how badly Karen has messed up this time. “...your father can’t know about this. Okay?”
“Fuck!”
“Oh Lord…”
Karen makes it through the next week keeping Grace’s new… favorite word under wraps, which she considers its own sort of miracle. It turns out once Grace started talking with her limited vocabulary, she really didn't want to stop.
Nine days after what Karen has privately called—that private place being her head, of course—the Fuck incident, Grace says another word. And that’s when she thinks she might be off the hook with this one.
“Come on, Gracie!” Mark says, light and laughing as he and Grace roll around in the living room. Karen catches a glimpse of them through the ajar door, laughs softly at their antics as they filter through. “Dad… Come on, you can say it!”
And then… She does.
“Dad… Dada…”
“Karen!”
Unfortunately, it’s too easy to pretend this really is the first word Grace said. It’s the better word—it… Mark’s eyes shine in a way they haven’t in years. They haven’t looked like that since before… For a few moments, as they celebrate, Karen has her best friend back to the way he was.
What Mark doesn’t know won’t hurt him, that’s what she concludes.
Karen could never take this moment away from him.
Him, or Grace.
They can never know.
//
They don’t actually get the designated swear jar until two and a half years later, when Grace is four. Now words flow from her mouth non-stop, always asking questions and making observations. She still babbles too, sometimes talks so quickly neither Mark or Karen can keep up.
Still… She’s annoyingly adept at picking up new words.
They’re getting her dressed for the day—Karen brushing her hair, and Mark fights with Grace to get her little shoes on. It’s a Sunday, and of course, they have church.
“Come on, sweetie…” Mark sighs, the little slip on shoe flying off her foot once more. “Be good for daddy. The lord is waiting…”
“We could put them on in the car if she’s restless,” Karen suggests, watching them in the mirror. “I think the shoes hurt her feet.”
Mark huffs, pulling a face as Grace holds onto his hair for leverage as she flaps around where she sits on the edge of the bed. “We should get her new ones then.”
“Well, they do fit. You know how she is, she’s fussy.”
“Fussy!” Grace repeats with a grin, the ‘s’ sound whistling through the gaps in her teeth.
“That’s right, Grace. Fussy.” He grunts, struggling with the shoe once more. Grace wiggles her foot, the pink slip-on twirling around her toes as Mark fights the movement. “One of these days she won’t miss and will kick me right in the eye, I swear it.”
“Piss!”
At that, both Mark and Karen pause. He raises his brows, head swivelling to look at Karen.
“Piss!” Grace repeats, giggling to herself. “What does piss mean?”
“Yes, mother, what does piss mean?”
“Uh…” She swallows, realizing her cursed sailors tongue is catching up to her this time. Karen smiles at Mark—seeing beneath the outrage, and the disappointment (both of which are certainly there)—he is a little amused too. However small and hidden that may be. “Grace, that is an adult word okay?” she says, catching the little eye roll Mark does. “Only me and your father are allowed to say that.”
Slowly, Grace nods, taking it in as usual. Her eyes dart between Karen and Mark—and gosh, sometimes it startles her how similar she is to her father. Sometimes…. Sometimes Karen wonders how much of her is even in there at all.
“No piss?” she asks, tilting her head, and this time Mark has to stifle a laugh—hiding it behind a cough, and Karen very nearly snorts before she catches herself.
That night Mark empties the cookie jar into a small tin—the kind Karen would usually use for her sewing supplies—and slaps a sticky label onto the clear glass jar. SWEAR JAR is written in sharpie on the front, and it sits on the kitchen counter, next to the wooden bread bin engraved with Fresh.
“I suppose this is only fair,” Karen mumbles, only half annoyed at this new development in the Chasity household. She places a dollar bill into the fresh jar, in repent for the piss incident earlier. “Does that mean Grace needs to put in two?”
Mark laughs—loud enough Karen worries he might wake Grace sleeping in the other room. “She’s a baby, what money does she have?” Mark asks with a grin, hands on his hip as he stares proudly at the jar. “Besides, we could make this for her, you know? We already have the college fund, but this could be supplementary. Give our baby girl the best we can.”
“I like that…” Karen places four more dollars inside, for Grace’s earlier transgressions. “But Mark, you know this is a terrible incentive to get me to stop swearing?”
He raises a brow, a knowing look in his eye. “I know you too well, Karen. As if I could ever clean that mouth of yours. Think of the jar as channelling your… less than ideal language into something positive.” He pauses for a moment, glancing at the jar again and then back at Karen. “Just, try to suppress it around the baby?”
“I’ll try…”
//
It’s after Grace turns eighteen, and the divorce, and the reunion with Jeri and Ted, that it turns into a competition. Much to Grace and Mark’s annoyance.
After a few months of staying at the apartment Mark shares with Ted, Grace proposed they make a new swear jar. For Ted, mostly—apparently Peter has quite a bad habit with swearing too, but Karen couldn’t see the boy paying much mind to a swear jar. Certainly not if Grace was the one who set it up.
So, each time they gather from family dinners—all of them, Karen, Jeri, Mark, Ted, Peter, Grace, and Steph—Ted brings his swear jar. They compare how much it’s grown since the last time, the total amount. Usually Karen wins, which leads to…
This.
“Fuck, shit, motherfucking, piss, ass!” Ted drops another five dollars into his jar, a smug grin on his face and he stares Karen down. Daring her to accept the challenger.
Grace’s head is in her hands. Mark has that tired look in his eye. Jeri is amused, brows raised, curious if Karen will accept. Peter is still shovelling the Chasity Chili into his mouth. And Steph is grinning, knowing where this is going.
Karen grabs her purse from the kitchen, pulls out a twenty dollar bill and drops it into the jar. Ted’s eyes flash with horror, but before he can rebuke, Karen is two steps ahead.
As she opens her mouth, Grace claps her hands over her ears in preparation.
“Piss, ass, shit, fuck, motherfucker, asshole, bitch, pussy, twat, cunt, dick, bullshit, whore, tits, slut, cock, prick, bastard, dickhead Goddamn.”
The room is stunned into silence.
Ted is the first to speak.
“Okay, that last one doesn’t count—“
//
It isn’t until a day after Grace’s high school graduation that she learns the truth.
It had been a slip of the tongue—and Karen had always intended for neither her daughter, nor her ex-husband, to ever find out. Of course, it’s been years, and they’re more honest now than ever before.
But Karen knows what this will do to Grace. Turn her into a guilty mess, Karen has seen it before, and it’s difficult to bring Grace down from such dramatic heights.
“How many?” Grace begs to know, shoving pennies into the jar now—having gone through all the dollars on her, emptying her piggy bank on the living room carpet. The poor porcelain big lasted 11 years, and Karen is sad to see him go. “How many bad words, mom?”
Karen sighs, struggling to pry her daughter’s hand from where it’s shaking in the cash filled jar. “Gracie, you were a baby—you didn’t know any better. All this money is better put in your piggy bank. I’ll get you a new one, okay? You don’t need to—”
“I must repent,” she wails, tears spilling now and even in the ridiculousness of it all, Karen’s heart bleeds sympathy. She’s sure once upon a time, she might have reacted like this too. Her own parents wouldn’t have been so reassuring as Karen is attempting to be. “Even when blind to my sins they still stain my godly image!”
“Grace.” Karen finally pulls her hand free, gathering it in both her own—rubbing a soothing thumb back and forth across the back of her knuckles. Grace’s bottom lip wobbles, the same way it always did when she was little, and she curls up tighter where she’s sitting on the kitchen counter. “I promise you, God has forgiven you for any grievances before you were fully conscious. There is no need for money in heaven—and so there is no need for your money in the jar. Okay, dear?”
For a moment she still appears unconvinced, eyes darting down to the stuffed jar, and then back to Karen’s waiting and patient gaze. She sucks in her bottom lip—her cheeks puffing out, making her look even younger than the baby girl she’ll always be to Karen.
“If it’s not for God,” she starts, tentative and brows furrowed in confusion—in curiosity, too, “then… Why do you do it?”
At that Karen laughs, releasing Grace’s hand from her hold and her fingers twist into the pale fabric of her skirt. “It was a deal with your father—to deal with my sailor’s tongue. He wanted my swearing, and my bad influence on you when you were little, to lead to something good. This jar…” Her hand finds the top of it, palm pressing against the cool rim. Inside, Grace’s money still sits, and Karen dips her hand in, gently pulling a handful of it out and placing it in her daughter’s lap. “The jar is for you, Grace. The original idea was college—and it still can be, if you decide to go. But, whatever you need or want, the money is yours. The rest of it is already in a savings account, it’s waiting for you.”
Her eyes sparkle at that—partly from the tears still caught in her lashes, partly from excitement. A grin overtakes her face. “Really?”
“Of course.” At last, Karen returns the jar to its original state. She thrones at the pile of coins, sliding it to clash against the counter. “Though, I suppose the first purchase would be a new piggy bank?”
At that, Grace breaks out into a fit of laughter—and Karen can’t help but join her.
Some days Karen still worries she might have ruined Grace forever.
But on days like this, with moments like these, Karen knows her daughter will be okay. If she’s already this far ahead of Karen at eighteen, she can only go further.
Karen is sure of that.
//
There are many times Karen Chasity has been nervous—but never quite like this.
“She’ll be fine,” Jeri says softly—always Karen’s rock, her fingers fidgeting with the loose strands for Karen’s hair trailing over her shoulder. “The moment she sees you and Mark out here, she’ll be dancing across that stage. I promise you.”
Karen smiles, knowing it’s true, but it does little quell her worries. This is her baby, and this is such a big day. “And you and Ted, darling,” Karen adds, “she’ll be happy to see you too. You’re family, don’t forget that.”
Jeri just winks, standing from her seat as Steph slinks into the crowded theatre from the fire exit—smoke still blowing from her lips. She excuses herself, greeting Steph with a hug and guiding her over to their selected seats.
Though, one good thing is that though Karen may be a nervous wreck—Mark isn’t faring much better.
“Gracie’s all grown up, Ted!” he cries, wringing his hands together—wearing his neatest dress shirt and sweater vest combo. On the left side, just above his chest sits a little patch—rainbow. Grace made it for him, and Karen smiles at the sight. “She’s always been so small, and now she’s graduating.”
Ted seems out of his element, equally disgusted and confused by Mark’s dribbling and terrifying sincerity.
“Babe, it's a community college graduation,” he says. “She majored in religious studies, it’s not that hard.”
“Religious studies!” Mark yells back, and it sets him off with another bout of sobbing.
Yeah. Karen is handling this a little better.
They hadn’t been sure Grace was going to college—years ago. With so much change—the divorce, the revelations, her whole life turning upside down. Karen and Mark had stewed and argued about choosing now. Too late to make a difference, to fix the mistakes they made, the things they taught her. Too early, destroying the most pivotal year of Grace’s life.
She hadn’t applied anywhere before graduation. That wasn’t even the worst thing. Her appetite shrunk, she turned inward. Even with Steph at her side, even as she guided Grace further out of the closet Mark and Karen had foolishly shoved her into—making themselves out to be martyrs, protectors, when that had been nothing but self-congratulatory lies—Grace wasn’t okay.
With time, she got better. Time heals all wounds, and they became a real family again. The year following high school Karen and Grace took up part-time work together at the church. Something good to keep them busy, and it allowed Grace to make changes too. That summer they held their first Church sponsored pride event.
Karen sobbed as she watched Grace give a speech up there, usually where their priest would give his sermon.
“I have my parents to thank, for who I am today,” she’d said, draped in her Literal Jesus drag Karen and Mark helped her put together. Similarly Karen had don a more subdued version of Mr. Eastwood—the whole room filled with so much pride. Karen could never forget that day. “They made mistakes, as we all do, but seeing them live as their true selves… It taught me how important love is. For a long time I valued devotion above all else—even if it meant hatred, if it meant cruelty, if it meant lesser evils for the sake of good. My mom taught me that love is the right answer, that you cannot deny the heart what it needs. And my father taught me that what you want matters too—and nothing, not even God, should stop you from getting there.”
There will be no speeches from Grace today, she had assured them at breakfast yesterday. That was reserved for the guest speaker, but Karen wouldn’t mind hearing that speech over and over again.
“Are you excited for the ceremony, Stephanie?” Karen asks, as Jeri and Steph return.
Oddly enough, Steph looks nervous too. “Yeah,” she says with a small nod, a bouquet of flowers in her lap, it’s a collection of lilies. Grace’s favourite… She loves all flowers, has adored meadows for as long as she could adore anything, but lilies had always been Grace’s favourite. Karen smiles, overwhelmed by the sweetness of the gesture. “Grace called me whilst I was outside—she’s super stoked.”
“I’m sure,” Karen says with a small laugh. “Her dream as a little girl was to give a sermon at church. She’s always quite liked attention.”
The theatre quiets with a hush as the house lights dim, and the dean of Hatchetfield Community College steps out.
It doesn’t take long for Grace’s name to be called—she is a Chasity, after all.
As expected, she skips out on stage—darting right for the certificate in the Dean’s hand, shaking his hand with such vigour she looks like she might explode with excitement. A moment later, her eyes sweep the crowd, and they land on Karen.
There’s that same look in them. The look from the Church Pride event, from when she first stepped out on stage as Literal Jesus, from when Karen caught her kissing Stephanie in the backyard. A sparkle of pride, of excitement, and of love.
It taught me how important love is.
Karen grins right back, shooting her two thumbs up. Beside her, Mark jumps to his feet hooting and hollering—as does Ted, quickly following his partner’s lead.
And to think, the Chasity Swear Jar made all this possible.