Pieces

by G. Benson

  “My parents are away.”

  She could lie as long as she liked, but she knew it was going to catch up with her.

  “Okay, well, we’re obliged to call someone. Do you have a number?”

  Viktor was looking at her, and she thought for a moment she saw empathy floating in his eyes.

  Then Mattie vomited again, and Carmen wanted to thank him even as his shoulders heaved a third time. Forgetting bureaucratic procedure for the moment, Viktor flew away and reappeared with a vomit bag and a towel.

  Five minutes barely passed before they were taken through into the ER. Wincing in the sterile whiteness of it all, Carmen sat on a bed with Mattie in her lap. A doctor appeared, repeating much of what Viktor had done, a nurse taking observations, tutting at some of the numbers.

  Carmen sat, feeling his heart beat hard and fast against her palm. Who had taken all the air out of the room? Everything was bright, and the words said to her were melding together, along with the faces that appeared and disappeared. When they took him for a scan, they wouldn’t let Carmen go with him. She was left sitting on the bed, everything around her crisp and white and shining. The sheets under her almost crackled. Her arms felt empty, and she bent forward, wrapping them around her chest. It hurt. She cried out at the pressure.

  “Hon?” A nurse whose name Carmen couldn’t remember was in front of her. “I’m Siya. Can I have a look at you?”

  “Why?”

  Siya laughed, a huff, her skin a liquid brown that was the perfect match for her eyes. Her accent took a moment to place, it was so soft, and then it clicked with Carmen. Indian, like one of her teachers had been at school.

  Siya stepped forward slowly, as if she thought Carmen may run. Carmen didn’t know how to tell her she wouldn’t be going anywhere without her brother.

  “Your face looks pretty bad. Not as bad as your brother’s, though, but still. And I can see you’re clutching your ribs. Let me take a look?”

  Carmen eyed her, but Siya just stood, hands raised slightly as if to show she meant no harm. Finally, Carmen nodded.

  With a flick of her wrist, Siya pulled the curtains around the bed. Her fingers were gentle against Carmen’s face, and Carmen closed her eyes, only just stopping herself from leaning into the touch. The woman was plump, kind, soft. Carmen wanted to fall into her and let out the sob of worry that seemed permanently caught in her throat. She wanted Ollie. She wanted her brother back.

  Carmen wanted…

  “Okay, hon. Open your eyes so I can check with my light?”

  The light was bright, sending a throb through Carmen’s skull.

  “Good, that’s good. Just what we want to see. Now, can you lift your shirt?”

  Obediently, Carmen pulled it up, wincing, unable to raise her arms too high. How had she carried Mattie?

  Siya sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Well now, that looks nasty.” Her fingers were gentle again, probing along her ribs and against her back, then again over her stomach.

  “I’m fine.” The words tasted like sawdust, and Siya didn’t even bother to comment on them.

  “Okay. I don’t think anything is broken, but I think your ribs are badly bruised. There’s not much we can do about that, unfortunately. It’s going to hurt for a while, but we’ll set you up with some pain relief.”

  Carmen’s looked quickly to her face. She had no money for that. Even the money in her bank account wouldn’t cover this visit. Especially with Mattie. That crack they’d disappeared into was spitting them back out.

  Siya silently checked her heart rate and blood pressure, or possibly her oxygen; Carmen wasn’t really sure.

  “All of this looks good. Lots of superficial problems.” She sat on a stool on wheels next to the bed, partly between Carmen’s legs. With a hand on her knee, she looked up at her. “Now. Your brother is going to have to be admitted. You want to tell me what’s going on?”

  And Carmen did, because she saw no other way out of it. And, really, the overwhelming relief of it caught in her chest as the words spilled out.

  Chapter 20

  It was late. The hallways of the hospital were dim but not entirely dark. The hospital room was so silent it was eerie. Everything was in shadow, but not so much that Carmen couldn’t see. It reminded her of the rooms in the group home, where the light was never really gone.

  The clock on the wall said it was just before one in the morning. She was always up late—hazards of her job and, simply, the life she led. The warehouse was always buzzing until all hours.

  Her own mind was buzzing now.

  What she had to do.

  How she could do it.

  If she could do it.

  Mattie lay in the bed, engulfed by the largeness of it. The sheets seemed extra white, almost as if they were glowing against his skin and the dim room. He was a little darker than Ollie, but barely. The thought of Ollie left a hollow feeling in her gut, and she swallowed past it, pushed Ollie as far back into her mind as she could.

  She stroked her finger over his hand, the palm of it curling, creased with lines. The skin around his eye and cheek was already deeply purple, speckled with black.

  A night or two for observation, it had been decided, what with the severity. What with him not having somewhere safe to be discharged to. That made Carmen’s stomach hurt, partly with indignation: there was nowhere safer for Mattie than with her. But it was also partly with the sickening truth of it. Looking at him, it was obvious he was anything but safe.

  She’d done that to him. Maybe she hadn’t been the one to hit him, but her choices had led the two of them here. When she touched his hair, brushing his forehead, her fingers were trembling. What a strange thing to see in this bizarre, clean room.

  A nurse would be in again soon to do his hourly neurological observations. Before they’d moved Mattie to the children’s ward, the doctor had assured her he would be fine with a lot of rest. That was what Carmen was repeating like a mantra: he would be fine, he would be fine, he would be fine.

  Carmen needed to go. Visiting hours were long over, and Mattie was mostly settled. The last time someone had checked on him, she’d promised to leave soon.

  They all thought she was eighteen. She’d told Siya that.

  Even if the hospital let her stay, social services would be arriving to assess the situation in the morning, and Carmen needed to be gone.

  “Mattie.” Her voice was hoarse, breaking past her lips.

  His one good eye fluttered.

  “Mattie. Wake up.”

  His eye opened, glassy and unfocused. The drugs were strong, especially for a kid who had never really taken anything beyond children’s aspirin. “Carmen.” It was a rasp, but it was something.

  “Hey.”

  He licked his lips, and she grabbed a glass of water, helping him pull his shoulders from the bed to suck down some water through a straw. His lips were chapped. When he settled back, his one eye blinked at her. “What happened?”

  “What do you remember?”

  He seemed more coherent than any of the other times he’d sporadically woken before.

  He swallowed, taking in the room before settling his gaze back on her. She kept his hand in hers, half on the bed to be as close as possible. His fingers wrapped around her own and squeezed tightly.

  “There were some guys… They were angry?”

  “Yeah?”

  He shook his head, then winced. “Nothing else.”

  She gave him a small smile, which was lathered in her affection and exasperation all at once. “You played the hero and tried to help. One hit you with some wood. We had to get you to the ER.”

  “I’m in the hospital?”

  “Yeah.” They’d said he may never remember the actual incident.

  “My he
ad hurts.”

  “Yeah, it would do. You have a fractured cheekbone and eye socket. And a pretty bad concussion. They want to keep you in here a couple of days but said you should be fine.”

  “But…the police? What… How?”

  Carmen licked her lips and tried to whisper her words like they were normal and not shredding her apart. “Mattie…you really hurt your head. They called social services.”

  She saw the words wash over him, the slow blink before they registered. How he started to breathe too fast, struggling to sit up.

  “We have to go.” His voice was high.

  She pushed her hands against his chest, lifted one to rest over his forehead, trying to hold him down. “Mattie, stay still!”

  He struggled for only a second more before flopping down, chest heaving, his face foggy with pain. “We have to go.”

  The whimper he emitted was too much for her. “Mattie, please.” Her hand still cupped his forehead, and she stood, bending over the bed and resting her own forehead over her hand, their noses almost brushing.

  His breathing slowed, eased a little.

  “Listen to me, okay?” She waited for his full attention before she started again. “I want you to try something for me. I want you to try, like I tried with you, when we ran. Can you do that?”

  She was hoping he’d say okay. Instead, he stared up at her with his one good eye. “What? Try what?”

  “I want you to try a foster home.” He sucked in a breath, and she rushed to keep going. “We don’t have a choice. We can’t run now. You’re really hurt, Mattie. You need the hospital.”

  “But—” He gulped in air, and a tear leaked out of his good eye, followed by another.

  She could feel his breath all over her face, warm and wet and filled with panic. “But I need you.”

  She tried not to show the way those words broke her heart, the way everything was falling apart around her. “I need you too.” Her voice couldn’t break over the words like that, not when he had to believe this was the right thing. “But I also need you safe. And we have no voice here—they’ll come in the morning, and you have to stay. But Mattie—I have a plan, okay? One to get us back together. But you have to be patient.”

  He coughed a sob. “What? What plan?”

  “You’re going to tell them you found me the other day and that I was taking you to a police station when we were mugged. You don’t remember anything about it. Okay?”

  When he nodded, she smiled, shaky and painful.

  “Good. And before that, you were under bridges, in tunnels, with other kids and alone. Always be vague.”

  “Vague?”

  “It means don’t give lots of details.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.” She curled her hand into a fist over his heart, the beat of it soothing. She wanted to cup his cheek but was too scared to hurt him, so she ran her hand from his forehead into his hair. “Because once I’m eighteen, I’m out of the system, like a switch. And I can get all those stupid life things sorted out, like an apartment. It was never going to work before. I was dreaming. But this could. If you’re patient, are in the system legitimately and give me some time, I’ll make sure we can be together as soon as possible.”

  She hoped that was true.

  He shook his head. “No.” He was choking on his own tears. “No. I want to be with you.”

  “I want you with me too. But think about it. I’ll find out what school you’re in. I’ll visit. Then as soon as I’m eighteen, I’ll visit legally. They can’t stop me if they don’t know it was me you ran off with. And then I can get you legally. With a judge in the court, and—and papers, and something permanent, yeah?”

  He shook his head again, weaker, his head moving against her palm. “I don’t want to be alone. I want to be with you and Rae and Dex and Jia. Not alone.”

  “You won’t be. Mattie, you won’t be. I’ll get you back.”

  “What if you don’t?”

  “I will.” Her voice was stronger than she felt. “I will, because you and me? We belong together.” She wouldn’t cry. If she did, he would lose it completely. “Can you do that for me?”

  With a shudder, he nodded.

  She made him repeat the story back to her. “Good. That’s good.”

  His hand tightened its grip over hers. “Don’t go.”

  “I’ll stay until you’re asleep.”

  He resisted for as long as he could, but medication and injury pulled him under.

  Would he sleep okay, alone, in the new foster home? Would he feel safer? Was this really the best idea?

  She sat stroking his head, her other hand against his chest until sure he was asleep, the type of sleep he went into when nothing could wake him. When he was breathing evenly, deeply, Carmen stood and walked through the door. She paused once, looking back and memorizing the way he sprawled in the bed, then walked down the hallway and ducked out.

  The memory of his fingers clinging to hers sunk deeper. Would she be okay without him? She had no idea, because, to her, it was like she was leaving a part of herself behind.

  The walk home was quiet, the streets dark and empty. Carmen tried not to think, focusing on the thump of her feet on the pavement, the way it echoed in some parts, much like the sound of her heart in her ears. Her side was bare, empty without Mattie, his hand clutching hers or holding on to her shirt. She’d left behind something essential.

  She slipped through the fences and to the door to the warehouse, swallowing heavily and trying not the think about the panic that had choked her when she’d last walked up to this door.

  Everything hurt.

  She walked in. How long could she avoid going back to their room?

  “How is he?” Jia looked up from the sofa, holding out ice wrapped in a cloth for Dex to take. Even as she waited for Carmen’s answer, she reached into the bag at her feet, pulling out more cubes.

  “The doctor said he’ll be fine. His face is fractured; he’s got a decent concussion.”

  The warehouse was silent, eerily so. Rae sat on the floor with her legs sprawled out in front of her, her back against the couch. Jia held out another cloth filled with ice, and Carmen took it, sinking onto a sofa across from them. With a wince, she drew her shirt up again and held it to her ribs.

  “That was actually for your eye.” Jia’s lips were a tight line of worry.

  Carmen shrugged. “This hurts more.”

  Dex watched her with his one good eye, a hand to his other, holding the ice. “Where is he?”

  Suddenly, Carmen just couldn’t look at them. Everyone was staring at her, and Carmen wanted to tell them all to go away. “He’s at the hospital.”

  Someone sucked in a breath.

  “What does that mean for you two?” Rae asked.

  Taking in a deep breath, Carmen tried to smother the wince it induced. “I—I thought a lot while I was there. I think… He can’t leave the hospital, not with his injuries. They’ve called social services. And if I stand a chance of getting him back once I’m eighteen, he needs to…” Carmen sighed, the cold of the ice finally starting to sink through the cloth and into her skin. “He needs to go back into foster care.”

  Nobody said anything. Carmen finally looked up. All of them still stared at her, gazes glued on her as if she held answers she didn’t.

  “He had a fractured cheekbone and eye socket. He’s badly concussed. I couldn’t get him out of there.” Defensiveness rose up, bidden by no one but herself. “He’s going to tell them he was on the street alone and finally found me, but we were mugged. Once I’m eighteen and out of the system, I’ll petition for visiting time and to get him back. Before then, I’ll find out what school he’s in and try see him for five minutes before or after, like before.”

  No one
said anything.

  “I… I didn’t know what else to do.” Carmen’s voice broke again, but this time it didn’t recover. “He needs to be safe, and we need to find a way to be together that doesn’t leave him on the fringes.”

  She looked from Jia to Dex, to Rae and back. She barely registered the note of pleading in her voice. “He was so small in the bed. I needed… I didn’t…”

  She couldn’t breathe, and then Dex was there, his arms wrapped around her. Carmen dropped her forehead into his neck, trying to slow her breathing. There wasn’t enough air. His fingers gripped her tightly, and the couch dipped as Jia sat on the other side, her arms around her too. At first, the pressure was too much, too hot. And then, slowly, Carmen could breathe again.

  “You did what you had to do,” Jia said. “You did the best thing for him.”

  “What if I didn’t?” The words choked out of her, spilling over Dex’s skin. “What if I didn’t?”

  “You did,” he said. “And you’ve done so well.”

  Carmen tried to let those words sink in. But instead, all she saw was Mattie as his head snapped back with the blow. His face, swollen and bruised and broken. How terrified she’d been when he’d barely woken up.

  “Carmen.” Jia waited until Carmen pulled back, and she looked her in the eye. “I would have done the same thing.”

  That made Carmen feel a little better, which only made her feel worse.

  It was the kind of night that was like ink spilled overhead. It was sometime around two thirty, the dead of night, and everything was silent. Goose bumps spread over Carmen’s arms even though the air was warm.

  She felt empty.

  Mattie wasn’t downstairs. It left her hollow. Questioning.

  Her chest was tight.

  Slowly, dragging the night air through her nose, she took a long breath in, then blew it out through her lips. And again. Her racing pulse slowed slightly, and her palms were an anchor against the cement ground that scratched them.