Pieces of You

by Cassia Leo

  She lets out a loud sigh. “I guess I should let you go so you can get some rest or train for your competition or whatever it is you’re going to do now that you’re free.”

  “I’m just going to lie here and regret this for a while before I go to the beach.”

  “I’m going to get ready for class and try not to think of dozens of ways of murdering you.”

  I chuckle, but it’s a weak laugh, weighed down by this impending sense of sorrow. “Before you start plotting my death, can I tell you a blonde joke?” She sniffs loudly and I know she’s crying again. “Why did the blonde get excited after she finished a jigsaw puzzle in six months?” I wait a moment, but she doesn’t ask why. “Because the box said 2-4 years.”

  She lets out a congested chuckle. “Oh, God. I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “I’ll be back in less than two months.”

  “I have to go.”

  Before I can respond, she hangs up. The silence left in the wake of this conversation is louder than the crash of a thirty-foot wave. It presses in on me and I hold my breath as I wait for a sound, any sound, to break the silence. But I’m all alone here.

  I get out of bed and head for the garage where I wax my surfboard for far too long, lost in the rasping noise as I rub the wax back and forth over the surface. It doesn’t take long to realize this is just the first hour in a series of hours that I will have to fill with things that don’t involve Claire. Knowing that she was waiting for me to come back was all that kept me going these past few days.

  At least Remmy will get here soon and I can throw myself into training. Remmy will kick my ass and pretty soon I’ll be too exhausted to think. And if that doesn’t work to shut off my mind, then I’ll have to consider the possibility that I made a huge mistake. Then I’ll consider going back.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Claire

  I SQUEEZE MY FIST TIGHTLY around the heart-shaped locket dangling from my neck. I have a strong urge to rip it off and chuck it across the room, but something stops me. Instead, I lie down on my side and curl my knees up. It doesn’t take long before the bed squeaks behind me and Senia wraps her arm around my waist.

  She doesn’t say anything. She just lets me cry.

  I sometimes wonder why Senia has stuck with me through the chaos of the last year.

  After a while, she finally speaks. “You have to go to class. My class doesn’t start till ten. I can sit in with you for a while if you want. Even if it’s just so I can raise my hand to make sure Mr. Collins never calls on you.”

  “I wish I could laugh.”

  “Come on, it will be fun to watch me get all the answers wrong. You can even record me and put it on YouTube.

  “I can’t go.”

  “Okay. We’ll both stay here today.”

  “No, you have to go. I know you have a test today in Bromley’s class.”

  “Nope. I’m staying here and we’re going to wallow in self-pity over our ex-boyfriends until our tears, and the tequila, run dry. I’m off to the market to stock up. Do you want anything besides hard liquor?”

  “Red Vines,” I say before I can change my mind.

  I know it’s a stupid choice because it reminds me of Adam and all the times he brought me Red Vines after work when we were neighbors in Wrightsville. If there’s one thing I’m great at it’s torturing myself.

  As soon as Senia leaves, I curl up on my bed and press the blanket into my eyelids to absorb the tears that seem to never stop. I try not to think that this breakup has anything to do with the fact that I’m not good enough for Adam. He has a degree and a successful job that keeps him busy and traveling. I’m a year behind in college and I’ve got enough baggage to weigh down a 747.

  Not to mention the fact that I have no family.

  As if on cue, my phone makes a tinkling noise; my text message tone. I turn over and snatch the phone off the nightstand. I close my eyes so I can’t see the screen. I make a stupid wish that it’s Adam telling me he changed his mind or even that he was just kidding. I could forgive a joke like this. It might take a few days, but a few days is better than eight weeks—or forever.

  I open my eyes and it’s Chris. The notification has a picture icon, which means there’s no text, just a photo attached to the message. I hit the notification and it takes me to my messages app where Chris’s text message opens up. It’s a picture of Abigail.

  Senia arrives as I’m just beginning to doze off. I don’t turn around in my bed, but I can hear the door slam shut and the sound of glass bottles clanking together as she drops some bags onto her bed.

  “Get up, get up! It’s time to get shitfaced and plot our revenge. I say we get our revenge by moving on with some really hot guys—ahem, Chris—then we can plaster kissing photos all over our Facebook walls.”

  “That is so immature and totally pathetic,” I say, as I turn over in my bed, still clutching tightly to my blanket because it still smells a little like Adam. Not at all pathetic.

  I sit up in bed as she pulls a bottle of silver tequila out of a paper bag along with some limes, a bag of ice, margarita mix, and some plastic cups. She tosses a pack of Red Vines at me and it lands on the foot of my bed.

  “I forgot the salt,” she says apologetically. “But I thought of a great game on the way over here. We take turns saying one thing we hate about Adam or Eddie and every time we stumble or stutter we have to take a shot.”

  “I can’t do that. I don’t hate anything about Adam.”

  Senia stands between our beds, five-feet-ten inches of Amazon woman glaring down at me.

  “What? It’s true. I love everything about him and miss him like crazy so that game just sounds stupid to me.”

  Senia heaves a deep sigh and I can tell she’s not happy with this response. “Okay. I think I heard what went on with Adam during that conversation, but why don’t you break it down for me. Did he really dump you because he thinks that’s what’s best for you?”

  I draw in a long, stuttered breath as she reaches into a small paper bag and pulls out something that looks like a burrito wrapped in foil. She hands it to me then sits down on her bed. The bottles in the bags clang against each other as she makes herself comfortable. I unwrap my burrito and the smell makes me sick. I immediately wrap it up and set it down on the nightstand.

  “Yes, he dumped me because he thinks he’s just another distraction that I don’t need and I kind of got the feeling that he was trying to tell me I’m a distraction for him. He thinks we’re going to end up hating each other if we try to stay together while he’s in Hawaii.”

  “You have to eat something if we’re going to drink.”

  “I’m not drinking. You know that.”

  “He’s right,” Senia says, and by the look on her face she’s totally serious. “It’s too painful to hear about everything that’s going on with you and Chris and Abigail while he’s five thousand miles away. If you two try to stay together through this, you’ll probably end up breaking up before he gets back. At least this way, there’s a chance you may still want to be with him when he comes back.”

  “Stop applying your logic to my relationship.”

  She smiles, but it’s a weary smile. She’s right. I’m just torturing him with all this stuff. He has a job to do and I have schoolwork and legal business to attend to.

  “Being mature sucks,” I pout. “I want to go to sleep and wake up in eight weeks.”

  I really am deliriously tired from not having slept. The idea of food or alcohol in my stomach is only making it worse. I lie back in bed and pull the covers up to my nose.

  “I’m going to shower and get ready in there so you can sleep. Do you need me to drop off any assignments to Collins?”

  “I already emailed him the chapter review. Thanks.”

  I clench my teeth as I attempt to hold it together for just a few more seconds until she leaves. She looks at me with that motherly concern that reminds me of Jackie.

  “It’s okay to cry
, Claire.”

  As soon as the door closes behind her, I reach for my phone again and stare at Abigail’s picture. She’s asleep and there are a million tubes coming out of her body, but she looks so peaceful, so blissfully unaware of the turmoil caused by my decisions. Will she grow up to resent me for giving her up? If we do come to an agreement on the open adoption, will she resent her adoptive parents because they’re not rich and famous like Chris?

  I pull the phone against my chest and the covers over my head before I close my eyes, trying not to think of all the studying I’ll have to do whenever I wake up. Instead, I imagine Adam beside me, holding me, and whispering jokes in my ear.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chris

  Three weeks later

  THE RIDE TO XANDER’S OFFICE is uncomfortable. I refuse to take the pain pills they prescribed me. I’ve seen too many people strung out on that shit to touch them. The last thing Abigail or Claire need is a junkie for a father or a… I don’t know what the fuck I am to Claire anymore. But I hope what I’m about to do will help Claire make up her mind.

  She won’t return my calls anymore unless I have specific news about Abigail, and I haven’t had any since Claire’s meltdown in the hospital. Lynette and Brian don’t want to agree to an open adoption at this point. They think that my fame and Claire’s past make us “unstable.” That has to be the worst fucking insult I’ve ever had lobbed at me, and Claire doesn’t deserve it either. I’d like to see Lynette and Brian suffer through just a fraction of what she’s had to endure.

  I make it out of my mom’s SUV and onto my crutches easily enough. The doctor wanted to put my leg in a full cast, but there’s no way I was going to be wheeled around everywhere. If it takes one to two weeks longer to heal this way, so be it. I’ll do the extra time in order to hang on to a shred of dignity.

  I laugh to myself as we make our way to the elevator in the lobby and I punch the button. I wrote a song last week about being injured, so I guess this broken leg stuff isn’t a total loss. If Claire knew this, she would say it’s my insistence on turning every negative into a positive. I think I have a pretty good track record with that, considering how broken she was when she came to us five years ago. But you can’t mend a broken heart like you can a broken leg.

  “I’m going to the café next door to use their WIFI. Will you be okay?” my mom asks as we wait for the elevator to descend eleven stories.

  My mom is a crazy mobile gamer. She downloads every new game that has enough sparkly jewels or flashy colors to get her attention. She insists that some of her games require WIFI, even though my assistant got her the largest data plan available. She’s always sneaking off to ask people for the nearest hotspot whenever I’m out with her, which has been quite often lately.

  “I’ll be fine. Go ahead.”

  She sets off out of the building and turns right toward the café next door. The elevator doors open and I hobble into the cabin then punch the button for the eighth floor. I make it to the Greenway Management office and Cheryl holds the door open for me to get into the back office area. I knock on Xander’s door even though it’s wide open. He’s on the phone and it’s hard to lose the manners my mom drilled into me. She always insisted I had to be a good example for all the foster children she took in.

  Xander waves me in and I sit carefully in an armchair across the desk from him then lean my crutches against the desk. I shake my head as I think of me being an example for dozens of foster kids and unfit for my own daughter. I run the tip of my tongue over the thin ring in my lip and wonder if Lynette and Brian found my piercings and tattoos offensive. Probably.

  He ends the call and lays the phone on the desk as he studies me for a moment. “What the heck are you here for? You should be lying in your bed with a bell while your momma brings you cold beers.”

  “I’m not going to L.A. on Monday.”

  Xander’s eyes widen. “I have a bad feeling this has nothing to do with your leg.”

  “I have to be here to see this adoption thing through.”

  “And Claire?”

  “She’s already starting to shut me out again. If I leave her she’s going to think that nothing’s changed and that I’ll always choose music over her. I can’t do that to her again.”

  Xander closes his eyes as he leans back in his leather desk chair. “You may lose the deal if you do this.”

  “I’ll take full responsibility. I’ll give you your portion right now if you want. I just need some time to work things out with Claire and Abby.”

  This is the first time I’ve called her Abby aloud and it catches me by surprise. I kept hearing Brian and Lynette call her Abby and I kept wishing I had that kind of familiarity with her. That level of comfort. Something happened when I touched her soft fingers and she latched onto me. I will never be the same and I haven’t been able to think of anything else for three weeks.

  Tasha relayed the information that Abby is healing well and should make a full recovery from the gaping hole in her heart. I wish I could say the same for Claire and me.

  Xander opens his eyes and looks at me. “I don’t understand throwing away ten years of hard work for a long shot. You’ve worked hard for this, Christopher, and you’re crazy if you don’t think you deserve it just because you left Claire last year. Isn’t she the one who broke up with you?”

  “She broke up with me so I could do the shit I’ve been doing for the past year. She made me who I am. I can’t thank her for that by abandoning her when she needs me most. Right now, she needs me more than I need a second hit album.”

  Xander shakes his head with disappointment. “You know I love Claire, but I don’t like this one bit. You’re going to lose a lot of momentum if you hold off on this album for personal reasons. The release date has been circulating for weeks. Everybody’s expecting it early Summer. If you skip the trip to L.A., there is no way you’ll get it done by then.” He stares me in the eye for a moment before he continues. “Are you absolutely sure that this is what you want?”

  “As sure as I am that you’re going to cry like a bitch when I leave this office.”

  He shrugs. “I guess you’re pretty sure.”

  His brow furrows and I don’t think he can hold the tears in much longer. “I promise I’ll work on the rest of the songs as much I can while I’m getting fondled by my physical therapist.”

  I grab the crutches and chuckle as I leave Xander’s office, the sound of his sobs growing softer with each hop of my crutches. Cheryl scrambles to open both exit doors for me and I soon find myself back at the elevator, waiting. On the way down, I try to think of how I’m going to break the news to Claire. I can call her, but I’ll probably have to leave it as a voicemail message. I can text her, but that’s too impersonal. I have to see her, but that means asking someone to drive me to her dorm.

  Why couldn’t I have broken my fucking left leg? I could drive with a broken left leg.

  The elevator doors open onto the first floor lobby and I immediately spot my mom sitting on a cushy chair, her fingers moving furiously while her eyes are glued to her phone. I make my way to her and she looks up.

  “Did Xander have a heart attack?” she asks.

  “No, but he may need some extra happy pills or some chocolate cake tonight.”

  She stands and I’m struck by how much I admire my mom for taking everything that’s happened with Claire and me in stride these past two months. It’s time to tell her everything.

  As soon as I get myself settled into the passenger seat, I reach out to stop her from turning the key in the ignition. “Mom, I have something to tell you; something you may not like to hear, but I want you to keep in mind how much I love Claire—how much we love Claire. Okay?”

  She looks at the dashboard in front of me instead of straight at me because she can sense I’m about to tell her something really bad.

  “Christopher, if you tell me something that makes me upset with Claire, I’m going to take it out on you. I just got h
er back. Please don’t do this to me.”

  I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly as I contemplate this, but she needs to know. “Mom, Claire had a baby in April. She gave her up for adoption and Claire has been suffering with this secret for over a year.”

  “A baby or your baby?”

  “My baby. Her name is Abigail. I saw her for the first time three weeks ago and she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I got to hold her hand and I think… I don’t think I’ve ever loved anything more than I love this little girl who I don’t even know. Not even Claire or music.”

  Both her hands fly up to cover her face as she begins to cry. I reach over and squeeze her knee and she shakes her head. Fuck. I hate seeing my mom cry.

  “Mom, please don’t cry. We’re working it out. I just wanted to tell you because I can’t keep it inside any longer.”

  She curls her fingers a little so they’re not covering her eyes, then she looks at me. “I have a granddaughter? And you’re just telling me this now?” She pushes my hand off her knee and scowls at me. “I am so disappointed in you right now. I never thought you would keep something like this from me.”

  “I wanted to tell you, but I wanted to wait until I knew what was going to happen with the open adoption. But I see now that we’re no closer to knowing what’s going to happen than we were two months ago.”

  “Two months you’ve kept this from me! I knew something was going on when Rachel told me that Claire has a new boyfriend.”

  “Rachel told you that?”

  “I weaseled it out of her. Is that why this open adoption thing isn’t settled yet, because she has a new boyfriend?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that.”

  “Don’t you lie to me to protect her. I can’t believe she would keep this from me.”

  “Don’t you dare get mad at Claire. She only did what was best for Abigail and me. I wouldn’t be where I am if she hadn’t made the difficult choice she made.”

  She grunts with frustration. “I want to call her.”

  “No, you’re upset right now. Call her tomorrow or whenever you’ve cooled off.”

  “You’re right. I don’t want to call her. I want to hug her. My God, Chris. Why didn’t she tell me? I would have been there for her.”

  “Come on, Mom. She obviously didn’t tell you because you would have told me.”

  She wipes the tears from her face and shakes her head as she attempts to collect herself. “I need to see her.”

  This is exactly what I was hoping for. Claire needs to know that her secret is not a death sentence marking the demise of all her previous relationships. We will always love her because even if Claire and I never get back together, we will always be family.

  “I’m going to ask Farrah to take me to go see Claire tonight. I’ll tell her that I confessed to you then I’ll ask her to come visit us at the house this weekend. I need to tell her in person.”

  Farrah, my personal assistant, has been sitting on her heels without much work to do since I broke my leg. She was all set to go to L.A. with me next week, but that’s not going to happen anymore. She may as well get used to being my new chauffeur because I’m not giving up on Claire and I still have three weeks in this fucking cast.

  “Give her a big hug from me,” my mom says as she turns the key in the ignition. “And if you ever keep something like that from me again, I will skin you.”

  “If you skin me, who’s going to pay for your gaming addiction?”

  She shakes her head, but I see a reluctant smile barely tugging at the corners of her lips. It’s hard keeping the women in my life happy. They’re high-maintenance. But I don’t think I would want it any other way.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Adam