Page 103 of Love Is…?
Her father gently patted her shoulders. “Good. I like a decisive woman.”
Tom fiddledwith the small condenser microphone hanging half a metre above Grace’s head. She squinted at him, and sighed.
“Seriously, Tom. This isn’t necessary.” She pointed behind her. “A green screen? There’s one built in to TikTok.”
Tom tutted. Tessa suppressed a laugh, and quickly looked at the floor of the small soundproof room in the back of the MTC. Tom was behaving very much like an overprotective parent whose child was about to jump off the ten-metre diving board for the first time. It was hilarious and completely endearing. The evidence that it took a village to raise a child was on display. Tom was one of many people populating the village of Grace.
“Just let me do this. Sam said I had to, and she’s boss adjacent.”
Grace cracked up, almost falling off her stool. “Boss adjacent? I’ll bring that up at the dinner table the first chance I get.”
Tom pursed his lips, fiddled with the mic again, then walked around the tripod to peer into the viewing window of the rather professional camera mounted on top. That particular piece of equipment had earned another eye-roll from Grace.
“Are you ready to start?”
“In a minute.” Grace met Tessa’s eyes, holding them. “Thank you for this.”
Tessa frowned. “I didn’t do anything.”
Grace hopped off her stool, ignored Tom’s hum, and strode over to Tessa. She leaned down and hugged her. “Yes, you did. You said I could be brave and be my truth.”
Tessa squeezed Grace’s shoulders, then pulled back. “Actually, you said that.” She reached for Grace’s hand. “You are remarkable and strong and have found a way to take back something you gave freely. It’s my privilege to be your chaperone.” She smiled. “You don’t really need a chaperone, but I’m glad I got the gig.”
Grace rolled her lips together, her eyes shining. Then she shook her head as if to dismiss her emotions, released Tessa’s hand, and walked back to the stool.
“Okay. Give me the cue, Tom.”
Tom grinned. “I’m looking forward to this hitting the internet. You’ll be the most virally of the viral.”
Grace wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”
Tessa giggled, as Tom stuck out his hand, counting down with each finger.
Pausing for a moment at Tom’s finger point following his “one”, Grace stared down the barrel of the camera. She possessed the same presence, the command of a moment, as her mother.
“My name’s Grace Taylor and this account is going to feature either my own poetry or that from poets I admire. My first TikTok”—Grace tipped her head slightly—“is an original poem titledQuietly I Givewhich I sent out into the world a while ago, but it became bruised and battered so I’m reclaiming it, dusting it off, and sharing it now.”
Tessa was enthralled. The poise that this fifteen-year-old exuded was beautiful to witness. Grace paused again, delivered a small smile as if inviting the viewers to come closer, and began.
“This moment is much too soon, I say
To hold, to carry, to put on display
Yet it called to me, a truth laid bare
Time, a child, unruly, without care
I harnessed my love, and paid time no heed
To query what is true is more than a need
The answer is brave; it is real to its core
To love, is to live, no matter how raw.”
Tom held up his hand and, like a well-seasoned professional, Grace held her pose and expression an extra second so the edits later would be seamless.
“How about we put you facing more on an angle for the next verse?” Tom tapped his closed lips. Grace stared at him before falling about laughing.