Pieces of You (Shattered Hearts)

by Cassia Leo

  My hands drop to my sides as the tears fall down my face. This is it. I can feel it. I squat down on the floor as I try to catch my breath.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  I have to get out of here. I know he doesn’t want me here anymore, but I feel like I might pass out again if I stand up.

  “I thought I’d understand if this happened,” he says, and his voice is so thick with emotion it makes my entire body ache. “Maybe I just need to be alone for a while.”

  “No,” I whisper as I place my hand on the edge of the mattress to try to pull myself up.

  I’m overcome with a hot dizziness and I lean on the bed to steady myself as I try to draw in deep breaths.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks as he reaches for my arm to help me.

  “I’m fine,” I say, pushing his hand away. “I’ll let you be alone.

  I push myself off the bed and take another deep breath. He doesn’t look at me as I move around him to leave the bedroom.

  Right when I reach the bedroom door, he speaks. “You didn’t come here while I was gone.”

  I stop in the doorway as I try to figure out what he means by this. “What are you talking about?”

  I turn around and I want to die when I see the look on his face. He finally looks more hurt than angry.

  “I told you I left something for you in my apartment, but you never came.”

  “I was hurt.” I can barely speak the words as the knot in my throat swells.

  He nods and I take this as my signal to leave, but I don’t want to go. We stand in silence for a moment before he comes to me. He stops right in front of me and I draw in a long, stuttered breath. He reaches up and I close my eyes as he wipes the tears from my cheeks with the back of his fingers.

  “I’m sorry that I hurt you.” I open my eyes and his eyes roam over every feature of my face. “You can stay here. I’m going for a drive.”

  “Please don’t go.”

  “I have to.”

  He squeezes past me and I resist the urge to grab onto him in desperation. I don’t watch as he leaves, but I can hear the front door as it closes.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chris

  TRISTAN KICKS MY FOOT TO get my attention and I look up from my guitar. “What?”

  Tristan is the classic brooding musician, which is why girls can’t resist him. He’s the one who always sits in the corner at parties with a beer in his hand and a scowl on his face. He’s only ever shared one song he wrote with me. He’s secretive as hell; even more than Claire. But this is one of Tristan’s best qualities. He’s extremely loyal. He’ll never blab my secrets to anyone, which is why I still can’t figure out why I haven’t told him about what’s going on between Claire and me. It probably has to do with the fact that I’ve always felt like Tristan had a thing for Claire before we broke up.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you strung out on Claire again?”

  I shake my head as I try to also shake the feeling that Claire is being pulled further away from me by the second. It doesn’t feel like there’s just physical distance between us right now.

  I thought I knew Claire until two months ago when I realized she was in love with a guy she had known less than a month. It took me nearly a year to break down her walls. Before we broke up, I wouldn’t think anything of it if she told me she was going to spend the night next door to her ex-boyfriend’s apartment. But Claire is not the same person she was before we broke up.

  “Don’t talk about Claire like she’s any other fucking girl.”

  Tristan raises an eyebrow at me. He’s not used to Claire and me being back together so I’ll let this slide, though I’m feeling unreasonably angry right now.

  He sighs before he leans back on the sofa. “I don’t know what the deal is, but the answer is always call her. Girls love that shit. Whenever something is fucked up or uncertain, all it takes is a fucking phone call to fix it.”

  I don’t want to hear him compare Claire to the chicks he fucks so I grab one of my crutches and head for the garage with my guitar. He doesn’t ask where I’m going because he probably assumes I’m taking his advice, and he’s right.

  I flip the light switch inside the garage and feel a pang of longing when I see the empty space where my bike used to be parked. It seems like everything in my life has gone to shit the past couple of months. Only the past week have things finally begun to turn around—and now this.

  I sit on the concrete steps that lead down from the house into the garage, lay my guitar in my lap, and call Claire. She said she would call me when she went to sleep. It’s not even eight yet, but I don’t want to wait anymore.

  “Hello.”

  Her voice is thick and raspy, like she’s been crying.

  “Claire, babe, where are you?”

  She lets out a soft whimper and I know I’m too late.

  “Chris.”

  “Babe, just come home and we can talk about it.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. I promise whatever happened we can work it out.” Her sobs come suddenly and like fucking shotgun blasts to my heart. “Claire, we’ve been through worse. I don’t want to fucking lose you again. Just come home.”

  I had planned to tell her about the fact that Abby’s parents have decided they don’t want to proceed with the open adoption when I saw her this weekend. I couldn’t bear to break this news to her over the phone. I was actually a little relieved when she said she wasn’t coming over because I was dreading breaking her heart. I should be angry enough to try to hurt her with this news right now, but I can’t. Claire and I have been through enough heartache this past year to ever deliberately hurt each other.

  “I know you’re feeling confused right now, but that’s okay,” I begin. I take a deep breath before I continue with the one thing I hope can bring her back. “I want you to know that no matter what, I will always love you and this will always be your home. No matter what happens between us, please don’t forget my mom.”

  She’s sobbing harder now and I let out a deep sigh as I prepare myself for what will probably be the most painful three minutes of my life.

  “This is the song I wrote for you and Abby.” I place the call on speakerphone, lay the phone on the concrete step next to me, and try to ignore the soft sounds of sobs in the background as I play the first notes.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Claire

  MY CHEST AND HEAD ACHE from the uncontrollable sobbing. I should go to Cora’s to get my stuff so I can drive back to the dorm, but I want to wait for Adam. I also can’t bear the thought of being alone in the dorm right now. I feel as if it’s not just my heart that is breaking in half. My life is being split down the middle and everything that happened yesterday was the before. Tomorrow will be the after. Today, I’m stuck in the hell of knowing there is no turning back.

  I sit on a barstool and try to calm myself. The instant I hear the sound of the guitar, I can breathe again.

  “This ain’t our last goodbye,

  it’s our last hello.

  I can feel it in my shattered heart;

  all through my weary bones.

  You’re the missing piece, the final scrap.

  Someday we’ll fit together;

  someday I’ll bring you back.”

  The melody is light and hopeful, but there’s a blue quality in his voice that makes my stomach twist.

  “These pieces of you are promises,

  whispering endless possibilities.

  My pieces of you are haunted,

  just echoes of shattered memories.”

  He sings the chorus one more time before he starts the second verse. I know from the first line that this verse is about Abigail.

  “I held your hand in mine,

  Now the moment’s gone

  Felt the love in your tiny heart,

  Never brought you home

  You’re my missing piece, a lovely dream,

  Someday, I’ll fin
d you baby,

  Someday, on me you’ll lean.”

  He concludes with a soft, diminishing melody that gives me chills and, amazingly, the tears have stopped.

  “Chris?”

  “Claire.”

  “I need a little time to think. I’ll call you before I go to sleep. I promise.”

  “I love you more than this,” he says and I know he means that he loves me enough to forgive me.

  “I don’t deserve you, but I love you.”

  “Don’t say that. We’ve both hurt each other, babe, but we always get through it.”

  I don’t want to tell him that I don’t think this is the kind of hurt we will survive. We say our goodbyes and I’m reminded of the first line of the song he just sang: This ain’t our last goodbye, it’s our last hello.

  I don’t want to be without Chris. It’s so selfish of me to put him through this when all he’s done is forgive me and take care of me. He handed over his heart even though I’ve proven to be completely unworthy of it.

  I have to call Senia, but she’s probably in full party-mode right now. I don’t want to ruin her night. There’s only one other person I can call.

  Jackie picks up on the first ring. “Talk to me, hun.”

  I launch into a long explanation of everything she’s missed out on since Chris and I broke up last year. I want her to know everything, from the day we broke up to the conversation Chris and I just had. I want her to know the whole truth and the real me.

  My biological mother wasn’t strong enough to live for me. I can only hope Jackie’s love for me is strong enough for her to forgive me.

  When I’m done, there’s a silence that I find both worrying and comforting. At least she’s not screaming curses at me, but maybe that’s because she’s so appalled she can’t form a sentence.

  “Jackie?”

  “Oh, honey. I wish I could tell you what to do. You know it kills me to know that you and Chris are hurting, but this is the kind of test that you two either face together or you move on. I don’t have to tell you how much I love you both and how much I want you around. Claire, you’re my girl. I will always want whatever keeps you close to me. But more than that, I just want both of you to be happy. What would make you happy?”

  This is a generous response from someone who has already been so generous with me. I’ve made one mistake after another trying to make Chris happy. I thought Chris would be happy not to have to worry about a baby just as his career was taking off. I never thought I could be making the biggest mistake of my life.

  “I want to know what would make you happy,” I say. “I think that what would make you happy is what would make me happy.”

  She’s sniffs loudly and I know she’s crying now. When was the last time someone other than Chris cared about Jackie’s happiness?

  “Claire, it would make me very happy for you to do well in school and not worry so much about this stuff for a while, but you need to do what your heart tells you to do. Don’t listen to an old spinster like me.”

  “Jackie, you’re not an old spinster.” I swallow the lump in my throat as I prepare to say the words I’ve wanted to say for fourteen years. “You’re my mom.”

  She lets out a soft oh and I give her a minute to collect herself before I say goodbye. I look at the time on my phone before I tuck it into my back pocket and spin around on the barstool. Adam has been gone for over an hour. I’m worried, but also glad that he told me to stay instead of kicking me out. This is a sign that he might be willing to talk this out when he returns. I just wish I knew if that’s what I want.

  I slide off the barstool and walk slowly toward the drafting table in the corner of the living room. I slip a set of plans from the bottom of the three-inch stack on the table and lay them on top of the stack.

  From my many conversations with Adam, I learned that Myles had two sisters, one older and one younger. His mother was a single parent after Myles’ father left them for a woman twelve years his junior. His father was good at hiding his assets and hardly sent them any child support. His mother moved them into a tiny apartment near Carolina Beach so Myles could continue to surf. He won $800 in that first competition and Myles was so excited when he called his mom to tell her about it. Then hours later all their hope was lost.

  If anyone understands the guilt I’ve lived with this past year, it’s Adam. He’s my lifeline and I’m pretty certain that I’m his. But we both gave up on each other. He broke up with me then I ran into Chris’s arms instead of fighting for us. I should have driven the hundred miles to see what kind of surprise Adam left for me in his apartment. But I was afraid I would find something like the locket, something that would be too painful to accept.

  I run my fingers over the cool paper of the blueprint and trace the pitched line of the roof. This is the home that Adam wants to build for Myles’ family. He has it all planned out, from the concrete foundation to the flowers in the garden. He may never be able to build it now that he quit his job. Adam’s father will probably empty out his trust fund just as Adam suspected he would. And he did it for me.

  I trace my finger over the front door as I think of the first time Adam knocked on my door, the same night he almost ran me over. He brought me the purse I had left in his truck then asked if he could come inside. As much as Adam loves to plan his life, he’s never afraid to take a risk.

  I have to find whatever he left for me in his apartment while he was in Hawaii then I’ll leave.

  I skim through every page of the blueprints on his desk, thinking maybe he left a message for me hidden in the pages, but I find nothing. I move to the coffee table behind me and my heart drops when I see the tiny black dish no bigger than the palm of my hand with the glossy coconut-scented oil. As nice as Adam’s apartment is, it always smelled a little briny because he likes to air-dry his wetsuit by hanging it over the shower curtain rod. I got him the scented oil so his apartment would smell nice whenever I visited. I thought he would surely get rid of it as soon as I left to UNC.

  I dig through the sofa cushions and come up with nothing but a half-eaten Red Vine. He must have interrupted me mid-chew. I heave a deep sigh as I remember the sheer happiness I felt when we were together in this apartment.

  After searching the bedroom and the bathroom, I move on to the kitchen. The only cupboard I haven’t looked in is the cupboard above the refrigerator. I grab a chair from the tiny dining table he never uses and stand on top of it to reach the cupboard. As soon as I open the cupboard door, I know I’ve found it.

  The cupboard is empty except for a single box of macaroni and cheese.

  I grab the box and sit down in the chair, closing my eyes as I remember our first date.

  “I have something I need to tell you,” I say as I climb onto the stool. “I meditate.”

  “Cool. So do I.”

  “You do?”

  He dumps the dry pasta into the pot before he answers. “Well, sort of. Whenever I’m stressed or if I can’t make it to the beach to surf, I’ll chill out and do nothing for an hour or so, to clear my head.”

  “You’re not supposed to put the pasta in until the water’s boiling.”

  “Fuck the rules. How often do you meditate?”

  I take a deep breath as I prepare to reveal my secret to this almost-stranger. “A lot. Like, a few times a day.”

  “A few times a day? Do the customers at the café stress you out that much?”

  This conversation is not going in a safe direction, might as well push it all the way over the edge.

  “Meditation is the way I cope… with the memories.”

  He looks up from the steaming pot of water to look at me. “Go on.”

  “I’m not going to spill my guts to you,” I insist.

  But I did spill my guts to him and he never judged me. In fact, I think my secrets made him love me more.

  I slide my finger under the flap on the top of the macaroni box and discover that it’s held in place by a small piece of double-sided tap
e that gives easily. I lift the second flap and see a folded piece of paper. I pull it out and it’s not his handwriting. He must have had someone else write the note for him while he was in Hawaii.

  If you’re reading this it means you came looking for me. First of all, thank you. I look for you everywhere, and every day I find you in the smell of the ocean, the bright ray of light that sparks on the horizon a moment before sunrise, and the laughter of strangers. Memories I can’t seem to grasp onto long enough. I’m coming back for you, but until then I wanted to give you something to show you that you still have my whole heart.

  I look inside the box and see another folded piece of paper. When I pull it out, I realize it’s a folded envelope and it’s holding something much too heavy to be another note.

  Chapter Forty

  Claire

  THE SOUND OF THE DOOR opening startles me and I drop the envelope back into the box. I look over my shoulder and Adam is looking straight at me. I stand from the chair as he walks into the kitchen. He glances at the box in my hand then looks me in the eye.

  “Did you open it?”

  “I opened the box.”

  “And the envelope?”

  “Not yet.”

  He reaches for the box and I’m too stunned to stop him as he takes it from my hand and places it on the counter. “You don’t have to open it.”

  “You don’t want me to open it?”

  He sees the note he had someone write for him clutched in my hand and he looks conflicted. “I was so sure you’d come here. Now I’m not sure of anything.”

  He stares at the box of macaroni on the counter for a moment before he picks it up. He pulls the envelope out of the box and looks me in the eye.

  “What I do know is that I’ve never met anyone like you. My mom told me what she said to you the day we visited my uncle’s ranch.”