LEAVING THE PIECES BEHIND
LEAVING THE PIECES BEHIND
R.M. Demeester
Leaving The Pieces Behind
© 2019 R.M. Demeester
Published in Canada
ISBN: 9781999404710
This is a work of fiction. Names, business, places, events or inciden`ts are products of the author’s imaginations or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or actual events is purely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, copied in any form, by any means: including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or transmitted without written proper permission. This book is licensed for your personal use only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each.
Prologue
Fifteen years prior…
At eight in the morning, my alarm went off. I would have woken up earlier, but Mom didn't like us up before eight. She always said she needed her quiet time, and I didn’t want to upset her. I climbed down the steps and pulled on the frilly red dress the lady at church made me for my birthday. I was turning eight today. I had counted the days until I would no longer be seven. I figured, why be seven when you could be eight? Being a year older would make me even more mature. I was so excited, which is why I didn’t understand why Mom didn’t like her birthday. A few months ago, Harmony and I sang her a song for her birthday, but I don’t think she enjoyed it as much as we did.
I hovered over my little sister, Harmony, and shook her. "Wake up."
She turned and stared at me with one eye open, then groaned. "Whaaat?"
"Get up!" I climbed on the first step to the top bunk, grabbed my pillow, and threw it at her.
She half screeched, half whined. "Don't!"
I giggled and ran out of the room and down the hall to the living room. My eyes widened. Mom had blown up balloons and attached them to the walls with tape. I turned on the light in the kitchen. Pink streamers hung from the ceiling around the fan. On the wall behind the table, Mom had written Happy Birthday in large letters on some leftover scraps of paper. Nearby, an empty tin can, which I had decorated with glitter and stickers, held the markers my mother bought me for Christmas last year.
Mom entered the kitchen, and I hugged her tightly.
"Happy Birthday, Serenity,” she said.
Mom looked tired. She barely smiled. I didn’t say anything else because I could tell she hadn’t slept last night. I wished she were happy, especially today of all days.
Mom staggered to the counter and opened the fridge to reveal a delicious-looking chocolate cake. My eyes lit up. I didn't think Mom would have had enough money to buy one.
She smiled. "You can thank the kind ladies down the street for making it for you."
Soon, Dayton and Harmony staggered into the kitchen.
"I'm hungry," Dayton howled. “I want my birthday!” I wanted to throw something at him. I never complained about things on his birthday.
Mom turned and stared at Dayton. "Quit your whining and take a seat."
She brought the cake to the table. "Sorry I don't have any birthday candles."
She reached into the cupboard and grabbed three plates, then put them in front of each of us. “I don’t feel like making breakfast, so you can have cake instead.”
She plopped a large piece of cake in front of Harmony. It didn’t matter that it was my birthday; if Harmony didn’t get hers first, she’d cry like a big baby. She had to make everything about her. It wasn’t fair. But it was just what she did. Mom sat in the empty chair and glared at the back wall. What was she thinking about?
"Mommy," Harmony whined. When Mom didn’t respond quickly enough for her, she screeched louder. “Mommy!"
"What?" Mom shouted. Harmony’s bottom lip jutted out and her face contorted into a pout. Mom took a deep breath. "What, Harmony?"
"Can I have a drink?" she said in an almost whisper.
"Yeah, me too," Dayton added.
Mom stood and walked toward the fridge, then stopped. She stared at a large box on the counter.
"What's that?" I asked, hoping it was something for me.
Mom picked up the box and headed back to the table. "A present for your birthday." She stood for a few more moments. "Why don't you open it while I go lay down? Keep Harmony and Dayton out of trouble."
Without another word, she left the kitchen and headed toward her bedroom. I guess she forgot to get Dayton and Harmony their drinks.
I shrugged and opened the box. Buried beneath pink tissue paper was a toy purse with accessories.
Harmony reached over to take it from my hands, but I pulled it away. "It's mine."
She whined loudly.
"Shh!"
"I want it!"
I went to hand it to her, just so she wouldn’t upset Mom, but I was too late.
Mom entered the room again. "Harmony, be quiet!" she ordered, frowning, her hands on her hips.
"Sorry, Mommy."
Mom ignored her, turned, and looked at me. "Didn't I tell you to keep them occupied?"
I bowed my head, apologizing. She huffed and turned back toward her room. I hated being the oldest. I pouted. I didn’t want to share my stuff or spend all my time babysitting.
***
Two weeks had passed since my birthday. Today I had school, and once again I woke myself up in the morning. This week, Mom had slept a lot. She wasn’t feeling good. Harmony and Dayton were sick as well, so she had an especially hard time getting up in the morning. I picked up the crumpled jean dress off the floor and put it on. I knew Mom would get around to washing our clothes eventually. Harmony cried from the bottom bunk. "I don't feel good."
Mom hovered over her. "Now, now."
Then, across the hall, Dayton screeched at the top of his lungs. Mom left the room to help him.
I looked at Harmony, and her bottom lip pouted. "I don't want to go to school."
The alarm clock read five after eight. I had to hurry to catch the bus. I rushed past Mom's bedroom.
"Make sure to brush your hair!" Mom called from across the hall
"I did," I lied.
"Okay, sweetie. I'll pick you up after school."
I walked into the kitchen and opened the cupboard to grab a snack, but there were none. I looked on the second shelf, behind an empty container. The jar of grocery money that Mom kept back there was still full. She hadn't gone shopping yet. If only Harmony and Dayton were feeling better, we would have food in the house.
I ran for the bus. Today there was a spelling test, something I was good at.
When I walked into the classroom, some of the girls stopped and stared at me as I walked to my desk. I avoided their glances, but I knew what they were thinking. Loser. They stared at me and made comments about my dress. I was poor, and everyone knew it.
"Spelling test first thing. Everyone, take out a piece of paper and write your name at the top," my teacher, Mrs. Anderson, said. She looked around the room, her eyes meeting mine. She was one of the few people in my life who didn't treat me like I was invisible. She had come to my aid so many times when bullies picked on me, and she always asked me how my day was. She was almost like a second mommy.
She listed off words one by one. I spelled them with ease.
Then, one by one, we headed up to her desk to hand in our tests. When it was my turn, I smirked. I knew I was going to get an A. I always got an A. Mommy would be so proud of me. Maybe when she got her next paycheck, she'd buy me that fancy pencil and eraser set I wanted.
Later that day, at recess, Chelsea—whose house my mom used to clean before Chelsea’s mother fired her—was standing right outside the
entrance of the building with all the other rich kids. Chelsea whispered to her friend, loud enough so I could hear. “She is such a loser.”
I tried to walk away, but Chelsea and her friend started following me.
“Where are you going?”
“Inside.”
“She’s going to help the teacher.”
“Teacher’s pet! Teacher’s pet!” Chelsea chanted over and over again as I ran into the school.
It was like any other day, but at that moment, my heart filled with dread.
The bell rang at 3:10 PM on the dot. I ran out the door and down the hall, but Mom wasn't there. I sat on the steps and waited. I figured she was probably running late, especially since Harmony and Dayton were sick. I watched as other parents arrived and picked up their kids. The teachers helped the students into their parent’s cars, but no one paid any attention to me.
Then, my neighbor, Charlotte, showed up. She was a funny old lady who lived next door. She had a crooked smile and a kooky laugh. All the neighborhood kids made funny jokes about her.
"Serenity."
I walked up to her. "Where's my mom?"
"She couldn't make it. I'll explain later."
"No, tell me now!" I demanded. Where was my mother? Where was she?
She frowned. Her face lost all its color. She ushered me into her car, ignoring my pleas.
"Where's my mom?" I asked her when she got in on her side.
She mumbled something and told me in a stern voice that I'd find out later.
The ride was silent. Dead silent. I was shaking, my heart racing. Why wasn’t she telling me anything? I wanted to know where Mom was. Please let her be okay. Please let her be okay. I’m sure she’ll be fine. I finally decided Mom was probably just too busy to come. She’d forgotten before.
When we pulled up in front of my house, I saw a police car out front.
"Why are they here?" I asked.
Then, I noticed Dayton and Harmony standing outside beside Charlotte's husband. Dayton was pulling as hard as he could, his face beet-red, but he couldn’t break free from her husband’s grasp.
I opened the car door and ran up to him. "Let go of him! Let go of him!" I screamed, trying to pry my brother away.
Dayton stared at me with his eyes wide open. "Help me,” he pleaded.
Harmony looked at her feet, not saying anything.
"Where's my mom?" I asked again.
When no one answered me, I ran toward the house but was stopped by a police officer as he stepped out the front door.
Inside the house, I heard my mom crying. "Don't take my babies! Don't take my babies!"
"Mom!"
She choked on her words. "Serenity, I love you baby... I-I…" She couldn't find the word to complete her thought.
At that moment, I froze, waiting. I wanted Mommy to respond. A policeman peeled me away from the door. I was screaming in my head, Mommy! But I couldn't speak. Fear froze me to the core.
When they took me to a waiting car, I found my voice. "Where are you taking me?"
The officer smiled. "Don't worry. Everything will be okay."
He could say whatever he wanted. I knew he was lying.
Harmony and Dayton were placed in another vehicle, and suddenly I was all alone.
The ride to wherever I was going was long. I stared out the window at the passing houses as I left my neighborhood. I couldn’t say goodbye to my mom or Harmony or Dayton. Not even the few friends I did have. We reached a highway, and I remembered travelling down this road when we moved here.
"Where are we going?" I asked again. "Where's my mommy?"
The lady who was driving looked at me in the mirror. "To your new home," she responded without the slightest hint of a smile. She didn't make me feel good. New home? What was wrong with my house?
I didn't ask any more questions until we pulled up to a house.
A tall woman with curly hair answered the door.
The lady who drove stared at me. "This is Mary. Be a good girl for Mary. I'll check on you in a few days, all right?"
They ushered me into the house, and the lady handed me a small suitcase. After a few minutes, I was taken to a small bedroom.
That night, I cried myself to sleep.
I just wanted to go home.
Chapter 1
Since I lost my job at George's Bakery, my life had gone to shit. For the last few months of my employment, the business was slow. The owner plucked all the bakers one by one, like chickens with their heads cut off. I did more than expected, but it wasn't enough. Like the others, I received my walking papers.
My roommate, Sophia, knocked on the door, disturbing my floundering. "Serenity, rent is due this Friday, so don't forget!"
"I know." I scowled. As if I needed the reminder. Money, or the lack of it, was always on my mind.
I had no money to my name after bailing my brother out of jail. Dayton really pissed me off. He had royally screwed me over.
I paced around my room, wondering how I could have been so stupid. Growing up, he constantly lied to get what he wanted. Why would this time be any different? I’d never forget the day he called me from jail. That should have been a red flag, considering where we came from and the life we both lived, but this time he sounded as if he would cry.
“Please, Serenity. I'll lose my job if you don’t help me,” he whined. Like an idiot, I believed him and bailed him out.
Coming back to the present, I clenched my fists, the whites in my knuckles showing. My own brother used me. I should be accustomed to it by now.
I leaned against the wall by the window, at just the right angle that enabled me to steal my neighbor's Wi-Fi signal. I couldn't afford my portion of the internet bill, and so my roomies had changed the password on me. After I got my signal, I scrolled through the job listings which didn’t require years of experience. I stopped at one: Local Business, Cashier Wanted. I could do that.
Thirty hours a week, eight-fifty an hour. I did the math in my head. It was more than I would make with unemployment.
No time like the present. I figured I'd head down there and apply in person. I grabbed a resume from my top dresser drawer before strolling out of the room, down the hallway and to the front door. I was careful not to make eye contact with any of my housemates. They already didn't like me, and the feeling was mutual. Feeling like an intruder in your own home was a familiar sense.
On the way to the bus stop, I passed several boarded-up businesses and houses not fit for living. It only reminded me of how much I hoped I could afford to move somewhere else one day.
With moments to spare, the bus pulled up to the curb, and I stepped aboard. I took a seat behind a pair of elderly ladies.
"Susan is getting married this weekend," one woman said to the other, and they soon began to gossip.
The pit in my throat pulsed. I had accepted that getting married wasn't my reality, and if it were, it wouldn't be the perfect-picture day everybody talked about. My family wasn’t the type to marry. Three generations of women, and not a husband in sight.
My gaze shifted out the window to escape any more painful uncertainties.
The bus slowly stopped, and a group of people piled on. I shuffled over to allow a man wearing an oversized army jacket to sit. The musty scent of cheap bourbon and cigars radiated off him. I moved as close to the bus wall as I could, holding my breath while calculating the number of blocks to the terminal.
As the bus came to a stop, I hurried off. Quickly, I accessed the downtown internet to look up the address again. It was four blocks away; quicker to walk than wait for another bus.
Still looking at my phone, I crossed the street as a semi took an abrupt turn, missing me by a sliver.
I sucked in a deep breath. That was too close. I briskly walked, holding my chest as my racing heart subsided.
I reached the address. The closed sign was lit up in bright red letters. On closer inspection, a quickly written note was stuck underneath the sign: Please insert r
esume here. I deposited my resume into the slot.
Exhaling with relief, I turned and headed toward home, walking more calmly this time. The fresh air was wonderful, and I needed to get used to walking. My bus pass would soon expire, and I wouldn’t have the money to renew it.
Why did my life have to suck so bad?
The realization set in. My eyes filled with tears at the thought of tomorrow. I staggered down a back alley, stumbling as if drunk. My shoulders sagged beneath the weight of my own debt. What was coming next? What was I going to do? How could I make money? No one was hiring me. The economy sucked. There were no rich fathers to pay my bills, no sugar daddy to ensure I didn’t end up homeless. I had nothing and no one but myself to rely upon.
At the end of the alley, I took a deep breath and wiped away my tears. I had to stop being a baby. Crying never helped. Crying had never gotten me anywhere. All I could do was pull up my big girl pants and deal with it. Nobody was coming to my rescue, and that was that. The system took me from my mother and abandoned me in the care of strangers. Once I turned eighteen, even that small comfort was taken from me.
They’d said I was on my own.
A slight early evening breeze wafted through the air, calming me. I hoped when I reported home, I’d be alone with no distractions. Maybe I’d have a bath or sneak something to eat.
I didn’t see him when we smashed into each other. He lost his balance and his briefcase fell, papers spilling out.
My heart raced. Embarrassment burned my cheeks. Unable to stop myself, I blurted, “I’m so sorry.” I bent down to help the man gather his papers.
He took the stack from my trembling hands. “It’s okay, ma’am.”
We exchanged glances. His striking cerulean eyes sent a cold shiver down my back.
He shifted foot to foot. “Hey, don’t you work at George’s?”
I sighed. “No, I was laid off a few months ago.” Great, another painful reminder.
He frowned. “I thought it was you. I always assumed you made the best cakes. I have gone there a few times, and I haven’t seen you. Now I know why.”
My heart quivered, and I found myself on cloud nine. Did I receive a compliment from a handsome-looking man in a form-fitting business suit? The only thing that would make this occasion better was a job landing in my lap.
Leaving The Pieces Behind Page 1