Broken Together

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Broken Together Page 3

by Cassie Beebe


  The woman took in a breath that caught in her chest. “You’re right, sweetie,” she said, clearing the lump from her throat. “That wasn’t a nice thing to say. Mommy’s sorry, okay?” There was a rustling sound, and she added, “Do you wanna play something on my phone?”

  Maggie enthusiastically agreed and, after getting her set up with a game and reminding her not to drop it, her mother let out another deep sigh, grateful for the reprieve.

  Jacob stared at the seat in front of him, his tired eyes glazing over, taking in the conversation he couldn’t help but overhear on the quiet bus. His chest was tight and a lump rose in his throat. It was harrowing, observing the heartache that a husband and father could cause with his poor life choices, and for once he was grateful that he didn’t have anyone in his life close enough to hurt.

  With that thought, he was reminded of all of the people he had managed to scar with his decisions. The image of a bloodied police officer, lying in the entryway of his home for his wife and children to discover, filled his mind. He thought about the graduations those children would have, the fatherless dinners, the aisles they would walk in bittersweet solitude on their wedding days. A few drops spilled over the brim of his eyes, and he took in a staggered breath to relax the pressure in his chest.

  Utterly fatigued from lack of sleep and the weight of his guilt, he wiped his eyes and let them fall shut. Pulling his hood tightly over his head to conceal himself, he rested against the window again, his consciousness quickly slipping away.

  A few hours later, the bus pulled into another stop, and the driver announced that the riders had ten minutes to use the facilities, if needed. There were more passengers on board than there were when Jacob fell asleep, so he guessed they must have made a stop or two since Allentown.

  He used the restroom quickly, washed his hands, splashed some cool water on his face, and returned to the parking lot to stretch his legs. Maggie’s mother was pacing outside the bus, talking on the phone and smoking a cigarette, occasionally peeking in the bus window at her sleeping daughter. Jacob gave her some space, striding near the front of the bus and enjoying the feeling of blood pumping through his stiff legs again.

  “Yeah, we’re about twenty minutes away,” the woman stated into her phone between puffs. “No, actually, it’s been pretty empty. For most of the ride it was just us and one other person.” Her gaze flickered cautiously to Jacob and quickly dropped back to the ground when their eyes met.

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. “No, mom, I’m not smoking,” she tossed her cigarette and stepped on it. Jacob smirked to himself. “Yeah, I know,” she said, her voice heavy with guilt and worry as she looked through the window at her daughter, still sleeping soundly against her pillow.

  Jacob covertly followed her gaze for a brief moment before turning his eyes to his feet, kicking the gravel beneath them as he struggled to keep his mind away from the unpleasant thoughts that had lulled him to sleep and burdened his dreams. Not only was little Maggie a somber reminder of his sister, but she and her mother both forced him to think about the consequences of a man’s actions, the people who remained, broken and hurting, once that man was finished using them for his own selfish gain.

  The soft mumbling of the woman’s conversation with her mother faded into the background as he unsuccessfully tried to keep his mind off of the remnants of his poor choices.

  Remnants like Officer Perez’ wife and two daughters.

  Jacob let out a rough sigh and rubbed his hands across his face as the woman returned her phone to her pocket and lit up another cigarette. She took a deep puff, letting it out slowly as she closed her eyes and leaned back against the side of the bus.

  The more broken she looked, the more Jacob’s guilt ate at him. His palms began to sweat as he anxiously tapped his foot, and without a second thought, he took a step forward.

  “Hey,” he greeted nervously.

  Her eyes snapped open and she cautiously returned his gaze. “Hello,” she replied.

  “Um,” Jacob started, immediately cursing himself for the utterance. He remained silent for a minute, hoping that perhaps she hadn’t heard him. After a minute, though, when he returned her gaze again, her face held a look of confused expectance.

  Dammit.

  “I, um,” he began, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation earlier… about your husband,” he explained.

  Her expression shifted from curiosity to embarrassment.

  “And… well, I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Jacob continued, “that you have to deal with all of that.” Their eyes met for a moment and he said with sincerity, “You deserve better.”

  Her eyebrows raised and she let out a small scoff. “Are you… trying to hit on me by bashing my deadbeat husband?”

  “Oh, no!” Jacob exclaimed, eyes wide. “No, no… I wouldn’t have even thought of that.”

  She raised her eyebrows again at that, and he quickly realized how that must have sounded.

  “I mean not that you’re not... you’re very…,” he trailed off, trying to redeem himself without making her more uncomfortable. By the look on her face, he determined that he wasn’t succeeding. “Okay, I’m just gonna stop talking now,” he chuckled awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” the woman said, trying to assuage some of his obvious embarrassment.

  Catching a glimpse of her eyes, reddened by tears, Jacob’s gut tugged at him again. “It’s just that...,” he began again, hoping he could accurately explain himself without putting his foot even further into his mouth. “I’ve been in a sort of… similar position,” he started. She let out another stream of smoke as she listened to his explanation. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Selfish ones. And the truth is, I didn’t really think much about how my actions affected other people.”

  The woman was listening attentively now, ash falling from her cigarette as she halted her puffing.

  “You and your daughter kind of got me thinking about consequences,” he continued with a shrug. “And… I don’t know. I guess I just felt the need to… apologize for something.” He scoffed at himself and the silly notion that apologizing to this stranger would have any effect on the people who were truly on his mind. Shaking his head, he said, “That probably doesn’t really make any sense, but –”

  “No,” she interrupted, meeting his gaze earnestly with wet eyes. “It does make sense,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

  Jacob breathed a sigh of relief at her understanding. “You’re welcome,” he said.

  She gave him a small smile as the bus driver approached, announcing that it was time to get back on the road. The driver boarded the bus, and Jacob gestured for the woman to go ahead of him. The rest of the passengers had already boarded, so the door folded shut loudly behind him.

  Almost half an hour later, the bus stopped in Altoona, and the little girl and her mother departed.

  Holding onto her mother’s hand and following her to the door, Maggie looked back at Jacob and gave him a small wave with a bright grin. He returned the favor as he watched the woman step off of the bus and finally break into an uninhibited sob as an older woman pulled her into a solid embrace.

  After a few more stops and several more hours of attempted, restless sleep, the bus arrived in Cottonwood, Ohio. From there, Jacob took a cab to Westbridge University, the setting for the next few years of his journey.

  Upon checking into the University, he discovered that he had lucked out with a room to himself. They assigned him to a one-bed dorm room that was generally set aside for RA’s, but had been empty since the current RA had opted to room with his twin brother instead. It was a huge relief, not just because of the general awkwardness of sharing a room with a stranger, but because he had been stressing greatly over how he was going to hide his medications and phone calls from his parole officer with a roommate sniffing around so close by. With that worry alleviated, he could begin to see how this might co
me to feel like home, in time.

  Due to the late hour, he was simply handed a packet of information, such as his class schedule, the name of his academic advisor, his room number, campus rules, and a map. He took a quick look at the map, making mental note of the important buildings – academic advisory, financial aid, cafeteria, and his dorm building. He was informed that he would be staying in a co-ed building, and that there were private bathrooms in each dorm room and a shared kitchen space on the first floor of every dorm building, complete with storage lockers for personal, non-refrigerated food items.

  After the quick information overload, an employee escorted him to his dorm building, and he was released to make himself at home in his new room. He unpacked what few belongings he had, putting his file of information on the school on the desktop, storing his pill box in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and stashing his wallet and Maggie’s journal in the top drawer of the bedside table. Lying down on the bare mattress in the center of the room, he kicked off his shoes and let out a deep breath. He looked around at the unfamiliar gray walls, listening to the sound of his breathing in the silence. It was long past quiet hours, and the only other noise he could hear was the ticking of the clock on the wall across the room. He stared at the second hand, watching it move one tick at a time and thinking of everything that was to come, all of the experiences he was to have in this room. At the moment it felt unfamiliar and cold, but he knew that this was soon to be his new home, this place soon to be filled with new adventures. With that thought to comfort him, and the soothing white noise of the ticking clock, he drifted to sleep.

  THE FOLLOWING DAY WAS Friday, and Jacob had yet to decide if he was going to attend his classes that morning or wait until Monday, when he would be more prepared. However, after the long days of traveling, strange sleep schedules, and forgetting to take his sleeping pills before bed the night before, he awoke early, so he figured he might as well make an appearance. He hadn’t had a chance to get his books yet, or even a notebook and pen, but he figured showing up and listening to the lectures would be better than skipping it altogether.

  He didn’t have spare clothes, so he simply rolled out of bed, zipped up his sweatshirt, slipped on his shoes, and headed to the cafeteria for breakfast. With excitement, upon surveying the array of food available to him, he realized this would be his first real meal since Bellevue. The plastic trays and long lines were reminiscent of the hospital, but thankfully, the food was not. From waffles to eggs and bacon and a well-stocked cereal bar, he was amazed by the wide variety of options. He hadn’t realized how much he had grown accustomed to the simplicity of hospital-living. Whether it be his schedule, free time activities, or food, everything was decided for him. He had assumed the freedom of getting to make his own choices would be a relief, but at that moment, the simple decision was overwhelming.

  After the long trip, he was too malnourished for cereal, and the sweet, richness of waffles and pancakes didn’t appeal to his nervous stomach, so he stuck with scrambled eggs and bacon, with a plastic cup of orange juice on the side.

  Claiming a chair at an empty table in the corner of the large, open room, he made quick work of his meal, ignoring the side glances from some of the students nearby. He sighed at the idea of being the weird, new guy in town again, but he reminded himself that it was better than the alternative of sticking around in New York. Dodging stares from people who saw him as the strange, mysterious new student was far preferable to sidestepping the stares of people who might actually recognize him. He was hungrier than he thought, so he went back for seconds, snagging an apple for later before heading out the door.

  He gave himself ample time to locate his first classroom, but the map of the campus that his academic advisor had given him the night before was detailed enough to make finding his class a simple task. He was a few minutes early, but the room was already mostly full. There were only a few empty seats to choose from, so he reached for the one closest to him.

  “Is this seat taken?” he asked the girl with sleek, raven black hair sitting beside the empty chair.

  She turned from her conversation with the dark-skinned woman beside her, staring blankly at him for a longer-than-necessary moment. “Oh! Yeah, sure,” she finally responded, shaking her head clear.

  He was confused by her phrasing, but she scooted to the side a bit to make room, so he took that as an invitation.

  “Thanks,” he said, sitting down and setting his campus map on the table in front of him.

  The second girl pointed at the map. “Are you new?” she asked him.

  He looked at the map, regretting leaving it out in the open. “Uh, yeah, I am,” he answered, folding up the map and shoving it into his pocket.

  “Us, too!” she responded brightly, relieving some of the awkwardness Jacob felt. “I’m Angela, and this is Callie,” she said, gesturing to the girl between them, who responded with a timid wave.

  “Jacob,” he replied.

  “Nice to meet you, Jacob,” Angela greeted with a smile, her bright grin contrasting her dark skin-tone.

  Jacob returned her contagious grin, glancing back at the girl between them, so as not to leave her out of the conversation. She smiled back as she turned her eyes back to her textbook, pushing her thick rimmed glasses up as they slid down her nose.

  The professor arrived then, and class began. Jacob was only a week late to the semester, but with great dread he quickly realized how far behind he was in the material. The stout, white-haired man was talking rapidly, scrawling a messy outline of a rat’s respiratory system on the white board that nobody seemed to be rushing to copy in their notebooks. His classmates seemed entirely unsurprised by the things the professor was saying, and Jacob guessed most of this was recap from a previous lecture. After glancing around in a panic at being the only one in the room who was completely lost, the girl beside him – Callie, he recalled – quietly slid a piece of paper and a pencil in front of him. She peeked at him from the side of her gaze, and he gave her a grateful smile, accepting the gift and copying the information on the board to the best of his ability.

  Jacob let out a sigh at the end of the class, leaning back in his chair as the other students around him gathered their belongings to head to their next class.

  “See ya at lunch,” Angela said to her friend, adding to Jacob, “It was nice to meet you.”

  “Yeah,” Jacob nodded, unable to manage much else as his brain recovered from the overload of new information.

  Callie chuckled softly and gave him a sympathetic grimace. “It’s tough to start late,” she offered. “You can borrow my notes from the rest of the week, if you want.”

  “Really?” Jacob asked, hopeful. “That would be great.”

  “Sure,” she smiled, opening her binder and pulling out a small stack of pages from the previous week of lecture notes.

  “Thank you,” Jacob accepted the papers of neat, meticulous handwriting. “I’ll bring them back next class.”

  “No problem,” she said as they both stepped out of the modular classroom and onto the rickety wheelchair ramp that led to the sidewalk. “So, where are you headed next?”

  “Uh,” he paused, pulling the map out of his pocket, on which he had jotted down his class schedule. “Intro to Psych, with Doctor Bell,” he replied.

  “Oh, really? That’s my next class, too,” she chimed.

  “Well, then, I guess I don’t need this,” he folded the map in half and returned it to his pocket.

  She smiled and tucked her long hair behind her ear. “So… where are you from?” she inquired as they walked.

  “New York City. You?”

  “Seriously? New York?” she repeated, her interest peaked. “Why would you wanna come here?” she grimaced.

  He laughed. “Eh, I don’t know,” he shrugged evasively, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Just seemed like a good option.”

  A flash of golden blonde hair swept through his mind before he had a chance to catch
it. He thought back to the big, white house, not far from the campus he walked on now, and tried to ignore the reality of why he had chosen Ohio to start his new life. It was the only other place in the world that felt like home to him, although he couldn’t bring himself to think about why that was.

  “Well, I’m from here. Born and raised,” Callie replied. “Angela and I grew up together, and we always dreamed of being roommates someday,” she mused, gazing wistfully around at the campus.

  Jacob followed her gaze and wondered what it would be like to have dreams like that. To be young again, and normal, and to have a best friend with whom to plan and aspire. He wondered where he would have gone to college, if his life had turned out differently. Probably some community college near home, to be close to Maggie. Although, if he could swing a scholarship, which wouldn’t have been tough with his grades, he could see himself taking a shot at Columbia. He likely wouldn’t have gotten in – not in this life, at least – but if things were different, he could imagine that being a dream of his.

  The second class of the day went more smoothly than the first. The young, female professor of Psychology seemed to be off to a slower start with the semester, allowing the students more time to settle in and really process the information given. They were still on the first chapter of the textbook, which Jacob’s new friend graciously shared with him during the class readings, and the tone of the week seemed to be focused on showing the students why they should be interested in psychology as a major field of study. At first Jacob had chuckled at the exuberance of the instructor, wondering if perhaps the department was low on psychology students and desperately trying to fill a quota. However, by the end of the class, he had to admit, she was starting to convince him.

  “The greatest thing about studying psychology is that it’s a subject that effects every single one of us, every day of our lives,” she declared with dramatic hand gestures, her wild, blonde mane nearly getting tangled in her jingling bracelets as she waved her arms around. “I mean, let’s be honest,” she muttered, lowering her voice to a sarcastic mutter, “not everybody is going to use the quadratic formula or need to know when the Declaration of Independence was signed on any ol’ random Tuesday.” She rolled her eyes and the class chuckled.

 

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