Grace squeezed her eyes shut resting her head against her hand as she looked away from the computer screen. She'd been working on her article for over three hours. Just another paragraph and she'd be caught up through next week. That was one of the bad things about having a weekly column­­–-you couldn't get too far ahead. Her column titled 'Bay Area Highs and Lows' consisted mostly of grunts and groans from readers on every subject thinkable. Road construction, city conditions, and parking were just a few of the important subjects she had to tackle.

Although readers were her major source of information, the mayor, chief of police, city commissioners and so on would often add their two cents. Information was not the problem. Sifting through the onslaught of e-mails and voice messages was daunting. Prioritizing and rewriting everything into a witty and informative column each week, while juggling political agendas, at times became overwhelming.

She looked up at the screen while she opened and closed her fingers several times. Rolling her head first clockwise then counterclockwise, she took a deep breath, and after rereading the last typed paragraph, began pushing keys at an incredible speed. Afraid of losing her concentration and momentum, she refused to be distracted when the phone rang. She knew whoever it was could leave a message.

She felt a surge of relief as she punched in the final period. Taking another deep breath, she stood up and stretched. Okay, now she could finish packing for her long weekend away. She'd give Richard a call when she finished and tell him all systems were on for picking her up at 5:00 am. Why they couldn't fly to San Diego instead of drive was beyond her. He wanted to be able to come and go as he pleased. Since they were going to be there for three days, he insisted on having his own car rather than a rental.

She had never met his family. Now with his younger sister getting married it seemed she'd be meeting the whole clan. She held up a strapless black cocktail dress and wondered if it was too much like the off the shoulder black semi-formal she planned to wear for the rehearsal dinner. Hanging it back in the closet she grabbed a scarlet dress with spaghetti straps and a flared skirt. This will work, she thought.

She wished she could be more excited about this trip, but the truth was that lately she wasn't that excited about Richard. He was safe, their relationship was safe, and in reality everything in her life was safe. She realized that she was becoming quite bored with her safe existence. Maybe, she thought, Richard has an ax murderer uncle hidden in his family's closet or a couple of sweet old aunts who love to serve a little arsenic with their tea--although she doubted it.

Of all the people she knew his family would be the most predictable. His father was a lawyer as was his father and so on and so on. He, of course followed suit. In a few more years he would make partner at the law firm of Hodges, Taylor, and Stern. Richard had his whole life mapped out. A life that was secure and stable, offering no surprises or spontaneity.

Grace pulled herself from her thoughts and threw the last item into the suitcase. She always packed her favorite worn jeans although she doubted she'd have an occasion to wear them. She wondered what it would be like to take a vacation where jeans were the most formal item she'd need to pack. As long as she was with Richard she was certain that she would never know. He loved formality and he felt appearance was everything. This in itself was puzzling. Why had he pursued her so relentlessly? Why not some socialite who could meet his expectations with one hand tied behind her back?

Maybe it was because she conformed to what he wanted without any objections. She dressed for him and wore her makeup and hair the way he liked it. She even changed her interests to please him. She gave up hiking for fundraisers and art shows and trail biking for cocktail and dinner parties. They had been dating for seven months but it seemed to her that they didn't really know each other. At least Richard didn't know her very well.

No doubt the fact that she was beautiful had something to do with his interest. When she wore her shoulder length blond hair up in a French roll or swept back in a chignon at the nape of her neck, she looked sophisticated and enchanting. She could draw everyone to her with her warm smile and dancing eyes.

Left to her own choosing she preferred to wear her hair loose in soft curls. Her favorite outfit was a black turtleneck sweater, straight leg jeans, and black loafers. Her natural beauty without the use of makeup would turn heads wherever she went­--but Richard preferred her in a more classic style and often told her.

Suddenly she felt empty and tired. When did she quit having fun and settle on existing? When did she forget about herself and her needs? She glanced over at the clock. It read 9:45 pm. I'll worry about all of this when we get back from San Diego. Now isn't the time to start reflecting on where I am or where I'm going with my life, she mused.

She went over to the phone to call Richard. Noticing the message light and remembering there had been a call while she was finishing her column, she sat down and pressed the button to listen.