Pieces of Me

by Jacquie Underdown

  My mobile buzzed. I knew who it was and hesitated reading it. I flinched when the second notification sounded. I placed my tea cup down, snatched up the phone and looked at the message.

  Bear: I never meant to hurt you.

  I typed a reply.

  Me: I’m not sure we can be friends anymore.

  My thumb floated above the send button on my phone. My heart was racing. But it had to be done. There was no other way. I hit send and waited. It took a long time before he replied.

  Bear: I understand. I’m sorry.

  Over the week, we didn’t talk much, just a polite good morning and goodbye at the beginning and end of the days. My stomach was coiled tight, my heart aching and heavy in my chest. I spent my time in my office, editing—seemed a never-ending stream of soppy love stories until I wanted to throw my laptop on the floor and jump on it.

  Bear knocked on my office door that final Friday afternoon with the last invoice in hand. I had been prepared for this day and I was going to be strong. I stood and met him at the door.

  ‘All finished,’ he said, handing me the invoice.

  I took it from between his fingers, making sure that no part of me touched him, barely looking him in the eye. How hard that was, not to look into that warm gaze and wish to see his cheeky dimples as he smiled. But he didn’t smile. Neither did I. Just a lot of forced civility—nods, yeps, and ah-has.

  ‘I appreciate all you’ve done to get the house looking like this.’

  He shook his head. ‘It’s no problem. It’s what I do.’

  ‘Not for much longer.’ I wanted to cringe when I heard that come out of my mouth. Why the hell did I go there?

  He nodded. ‘I’ll see you around, Hannah.’

  ‘Yep.’

  He spun and walked out the door, then out of my life.

  I pressed my hands to my hips and lowered my head. It was for the best. One hundred per cent for the best. Tears sprang to my eyes and a sob burst from my throat. Finishing it with Bear was the right thing, but the hardest thing in the world to do.

  Chapter 46

  Bear

  Early Monday morning I drove to the lookout. I sat on the peak and looked out over Mercy Island. The water was deep bronze as the sun glinted off the surface and the rest of the town bathed in butterscotch light.

  I breathed in deeply. A slight chill crept across my skin. My favourite time of year—the overbearing heat of summer fading as Queensland nestled into autumn. But a heaviness sat in my chest like a tight band had been pulled even tighter, drawing my insides together until it hurt. Had been that way since the moment Hannah sent me the text saying we could no longer be friends. And I had to spend the last week finishing the renovations with her so close, within reach, but knowing she was untouchable. Was there any greater mind fuck?

  I’d taken a few days off work. I needed a break. I’d been working non-stop for three years, and getting a little extra cash on Sundays from surfing lessons, trying to pay for my holiday and eventual move to Brisbane. But I’d hit a wall. A big fucking, hard wall.

  What’s that saying? You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. Yeah, well, I could write a book about that now. I peered out at my refuge, the waves tipped with frothy white as they hurtled towards the beach. I’d miss Mercy Island. I knew that, but I had an even greater reason to leave now—Hannah. I couldn’t bear to be where she was, seeing her around town, and knowing I couldn’t be with her.

  I stood, dusted off my shorts, and climbed my way down the side of the slope. I’d made an appointment to see a travel agent at eight-thirty to book my flights and arrange an itinerary. I’d get in a surf before then.

  When seated in the car, my mobile buzzed in my pocket. My heart swelled with hope. Hannah. I reached for it and looked at the screen. I groaned. Johnno. My first day off in ages and he was calling me.

  ‘Hi, old man,’ I said when I answered.

  There was a pause. ‘Bear. Sorry to bother you, mate …’ His voice was raspy, strained.

  I switched the phone to my other ear. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Margaret had a heart attack yesterday—’

  ‘What? Is she okay?’ My heart was thundering in my chest.

  ‘She’s doing okay now. She was flown to Brisbane yesterday. Had surgery to have a stint put in.’

  ‘Oh, god. How scary. Will she be right?’

  ‘The doctors said she’ll be fine eventually. We’re going to have to make some lifestyle changes … and I’m going to have to take care of her better.’

  ‘Yeah. Of course.’

  ‘I’ll be down here for at least another week. They want to monitor her for a while longer.’

  ‘Right. Can I help with anything? Do you need me to do anything?’

  Another pause. ‘That’s why I’m ringing. Now, I know I gave you a few days off, but I’ve got clients screaming down my phone every five minutes wondering what the fuck is going on. I need you to head over to the development sight and take charge. Just until I get back.’

  ‘No worries. I’m on it. I’ll take care of it.’

  I heard his sigh of relief. ‘Thanks, mate. I appreciate it.’ There was another pause. ‘Ah, Bear?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Time’s more precious to me now than ever. And I’ve been thinking … once this development is complete, I’m gonna wrap things up with the business. I’m happy for you to run a few of the employees under my name until you head off overseas, just so you can get by till then, and give the boys time to find something else, but I’m stepping right out.’

  My next breath was sharp. ‘Sounds like the right move. Margaret needs you.’

  ‘Yeah, she needs me. And I appreciate your help, mate.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll head home, get changed, and should be at the site in a half hour.’

  ‘Good on ya.’

  ‘Give Margaret my love and well wishes.’

  ‘Will do. Call me if you need me,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll try not to. You just take care of Margaret.’

  ‘See ya, mate.’

  ‘Bye.’

  I hung up and pushed my phone back into my pocket. My stomach was still churning from the news. Poor Margaret. Poor Johnno. How quickly one’s life could change.

  I started the engine and headed out along the dirt track towards home. My body was buzzing with adrenaline and anxiety. In a month or so, I wouldn’t have the comfort of permanent work unless I chased up some more myself. Once the other tradesmen knew they were out of a job, they’d be jumping ship as soon as they could. I’d have to get some smaller jobs like Hannah’s. Or head overseas sooner. But what if Bec had a complete melt down and wanted to come home? Who would be here to help her out?

  My breaths came quicker. I slammed my hand on the steering wheel. The car let off a beep as I accidentally hit the horn and I flinched at the sound. My mind and heart was telling me one thing, and my body was reacting in another way. Suddenly the temperature inside the car was boiling. I turned up the air-con and shifted the vents so they were blowing right on me. But it didn’t help. Sweat misted my skin.

  I pulled off the side of the road and tugged on the hand brake. Clasping my hands behind my head, I took deep breaths. Calm down, Bear. It’s not the end of the world. Only the end of your dreams.

  From my pocket, I pulled out my mobile. I dialled Serg, needing some rationality at this point.

  ‘Bear, my boy. How are you?’

  I gathered my voice. ‘I can’t leave. I can’t do it. And I’m freaking the fuck out.’

  A little chuckle. ‘Glad you made up your mind.’

  ‘That’s all you have to say about it?’

  ‘Come on, Bear. You know and I know your home is here.’

  ‘So why the hell do I feel like I’m about to stop breathing and die?’

  Another chuckle. ‘Because you’ve finally turned around.’

  ‘Fuck it, Serg. Make some sense.’

  ‘You turned around and faced what you
’re running from. Doesn’t feel so great. Scary as all hell. But it’ll get better. You’ll start to feel better.’

  I thought about that book I read written by the monk, the one I was telling Hannah about. But I couldn’t think through the fog in my brain. What had I told her specifically? What was the point?

  To feel. Yes. To stopping bloody running and feel. I took some deep breaths. A steel vice sat in the pit of my stomach, squeezing, warning me to shut it all down, start the car and head straight to the travel agent. I shook my head. I couldn’t keep doing that.

  Feel it, Bear. Damn it, bloody feel it. God, was I going insane? A new-age freakin’ loony circling under a tree with my face turned to the sun trying to become one with some bullshit?

  I calmed my breaths, which were loud and raspy, and before I could stop it, fear slammed me hard in the face, taking over my thoughts.

  My mother’s eyes. Beautiful blue, framed by such weariness. Wrinkles around those eyes, crinkled with years and years of pulling herself up by the collar and moving forward regardless of the storm fulminating against her. My heart wrenched. My hands trembled to see what I didn’t want to see in those eyes. What I’d been casting in black and turning my gaze from. Hidden, yet so conspicuous, was anger and shame. Directed at me.

  But why would I care what she thought of me? She was abusive. Unfit. Uncaring.

  My chest was squeezing so tight. I could hardly find the next gasp of air. ‘Everywhere I look, she’s there. And she’s looking at me with that face. That same sorry expression she had when she packed her ratty clothes and left us behind. She blamed me. I’ll never forget how she looked, her features … such disappointment. I’d let her down.’ Tears were thick in the back of my throat. My words were cracking. ‘I let her down and I let me down. I became one of those men I hate. One of those men she hated, yet couldn’t stop loving. I was one of them. And I nearly killed a man.’ A tear rolled down my cheek. Words were caught in my throat, weak, strangled. ‘And I know Becca sees me like that every time she looks at me. Blood on my fists. Such fury in my expression. And I can never show it enough, never prove it to her enough, that it wasn’t me. It wasn’t me, Serg.’ I sighed and choked as a sob broke through. ‘But it was me.’

  ‘Oh, Bear, my boy. You were fifteen years old …’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. To everyone in this town, I’m still that boy who nearly killed a man with my bare fists. The drunk’s son. The boy who got beaten so much he had to wear tracksuits to school in summer to hide the bruises. That’s what they all think. Behind it all, I’m to be feared and pitied. If I don’t leave, then I’ll be that boy forever. ‘

  ‘Bear,’ said Serg with authority. ‘Now you listen here. No one, do you hear me, no one thinks that about you. We all love you. Because we understand that what happened that night was inevitable. Any sane, rational kid would come out fighting after he was backed into a corner. You did what you had to do. You did what you thought was right. What was absolutely right. No one blames you. No one continues to pity you. And, by god, Bear, no one fears you. We love you. I love you. Becca loves you.’

  I shook my head and swallowed another sob. ‘You can’t lie to me, Serg. You can’t be saying that to make me feel better. I can’t handle lies.’

  ‘My words are true. Never has there been a truer word. You’re not that boy, Bear. You’re a good man. The best type of man, and every person in this town who knows you will back me up on that, one hundred per cent.’

  ‘What do I do?’

  ‘You do what’s in your heart. And if that’s staying in Mercy Island, then you do that. If it’s leaving, then you do that. But I think you know the answer. I think you know where you belong.’

  I sniffled and nodded. ‘Yeah. I think I know what the best decision is for me.’ I just had to convince myself that it was the right decision.

  Chapter 47

  Hannah

  Nat placed my coffee in front of me and took the seat opposite. The café was busy today, being a Saturday morning, and the surrounding chatter noisy.

  She arched a brow and asked, ‘Do you mind me asking what happened with you and Bear?’

  I lifted the mug to my mouth and took a drink of the hot brew. ‘Why do you think something happened?’

  She grinned. ‘Oh come on. He’s been an absolute miserable shit. He nearly punched my brother Saturday night for mentioning your name. Something must have happened.’

  I sighed. ‘We’ve decided it would be better if we weren’t friends anymore.’

  She frowned, her brow furrowing. ‘What? Why?’

  I looked away, unable to meet her gaze as I said, ‘We slept together a couple of times—’

  She smiled broader. ‘I knew it.’

  ‘And things started to get too serious, so I backed away.’

  Her brow crumpled and she shook her head. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he’s leaving.’ I rubbed my fingers along the rim of my mug, lowering my gaze and voice. ‘And I didn’t want to get hurt.’ God, it sounded so flimsy now. Like I was some ridiculous scaredy-cat, afraid of commitment. Afraid of falling in love.

  She drew her mouth into a straight line and nodded. ‘That’s fair enough. But, you know, I thought you’d be the one to break through that icy heart of his.’

  I lifted a brow as I took another sip, then placed my cup back on the saucer. ‘Icy heart? I don’t think he has an icy heart. Quite the opposite. He’s warm, caring and kind. Protective.’

  Natalie nodded slowly. ‘Interesting.’

  ‘Interesting what?’

  She laughed. ‘His ex’s have always said the opposite. That they couldn’t seem to reach him. He always held them at arms distance. A lot of that was because of Rebecca, of course. He always made sure he kept things stable for her …’ She stopped and waved her hand dismissively. ‘But, what does it matter. You’re right. He’s leaving. It’s not worth starting something that’s just going to end soon anyway.’

  I nodded. ‘Exactly.’

  She uncrossed her legs and recrossed them in the other direction. ‘But, I’ve heard wind that he may have changed his mind.’

  My eyes widened and I leaned closer across the table. ‘About leaving?’

  She nodded. ‘I think Becca is finding it tough in Townsville. She’s talking about coming home. I can’t see Bear leaving her behind under any circumstance. And I’m sure someone said that he’s considering buying his bosses business, but he’s waiting for his boss to get back from someplace before he broaches the subject.’

  My heart warmed hearing that. As terrible as the news was for Rebecca, I found an ounce of hope in that scenario. And then I zapped it, killing it off. It was hard enough pushing Bear away after what we’d experienced. Plus, I needed to stay true to my needs. I obviously had to fix myself first, before I even ventured anywhere near another relationship.

  I was nearing the end of my book and resisting writing more. I knew why. I was at the point where Gran discovered she had lung cancer. After all the joy and love she had found in living, she had to now contemplate dying. I couldn’t bring myself to live that emotional pain. But my editor was pushing me to finish and I knew at some point, I was going to have to face it.

  ‘Stuff it,’ I said, throwing my handbag onto the bench. ‘Just get it over with.’ I marched up to my office and pulled out the diary. I grabbed my laptop from the desk, along with the charger and set it up in the lounge. I preferred to write outside of the office—made it feel much less like work. I needed to keep these two activities separate. One I did for money and the other I did for love.

  I opened her diary to where I had last book-marked it and forced myself to read.

  29 August 2013

  You never truly believe that you will die. But hearing the words, ‘it’s terminal,’ is unlike anything else. A brutal, indiscriminate truth that feels much like a sledgehammer to the face. The world spins. You start thinking differently. And no matter how many times I’d contemplated my own death, nothin
g ever prepares you for facing it. It reminds me of when I was pregnant with Georgia and I wanted to know how it felt to give birth. How it felt to be a mother. No matter what anyone said, nor how well they described it, it was nothing at all like I imagined. You had to experience it to know. You had to know what that love was like to truly understand.

  I can’t remember the last time I didn’t make plans for the future. I based my entire existence on reaching this illusive future. But it doesn’t exist. There is nothing else but now. So strange it is, to look in the mirror and note how one’s hair is growing longer, then realise that you won’t have the opportunity to choose to grow it ever again. How strange it is to realise you’ve lived your entire life, along with the rest of the world, thinking that you’ll live forever. Making plans, putting them aside as though you have endless days left to achieve them, to live them.

  So strange to not appreciate every sunrise. To celebrate every birthday, not because you were once born, but because you’ve managed to live another year and that is an absolute blessing. All those little insignificant grievances, petty little thoughts, seem so pale now. So silly. They hide the brilliance of every day.

  It’s a humbling experience to face death. Very humbling. To have people rush past you, oblivious to what you are dealing with. What lies ahead. But I understand. I was once that person too. Caught up in triviality. Rushing here and there. Thinking I was going to live forever and life could wait. Only concerned with my own circumstances. Not loving so completely or appreciating whole-heartedly all the blessings I have right now.

  With all my heart, I know that anything stopping you from grasping life by the horns and riding it like a crazed cowboy has no validity. None. When you’re staring into death’s eyes, the only thing that matters is love, family, kindness and human compassion. Don’t live like you have endless tomorrows. No one does.