Pieces of Him

by Alice Tribue

  “They were totally unnecessary and inappropriate.”

  “Oh, come on, Emelia. Don’t start. Only you would take a nice gesture and turn it into something bad.”

  “We broke up. That means you stay away from me and I stay away from you. You don’t text me, you don’t call me, email me, or send smoke signals.” I gesture wildly with my hands. “You don’t send me flowers, and most importantly, you don’t show up at my job.”

  “Clearly, you’re having another one of your episodes,” he says looking more and more annoyed by the second.

  “An episode?” It takes effort to keep from yelling at him. I’m so tired of people telling me how I should behave. How I should just be a mindless socialite like my mother, be the perfect little rich girl and keep up appearances. I should never have an opinion of my own, never disagree, and always do as I’m told.

  “Let’s get in my car, you can show me your apartment, I’ll take you to an early dinner, and then you can say thank you properly,” he says tipping my chin up so that our eyes lock. Determination fills his gaze while disgust fills mine. I jerk my head trying to get away, but he tightens his hold on me, digging his fingers into my face painfully.

  “Let. Go. Of. Me,” I demand, keeping my voice strong even though his aggressiveness has shocked me. I’ve seen his patience slip before, seen him get in my face, but he’s never put his hands on me before.

  “You know I’ve never admitted it, but I kind of like it when you’re like this. I like when you put up a fight because when you give in … and trust me, you will give in, it’ll make the victory that much sweeter, babe.” He says the babe in a mocking tone, one that pisses me the fuck off, and I manage to pull away from him.

  I should get in my car and leave, put as much distance between us as I can, but the false bravado kicks in.

  “Fuck you, Garrett. Go home and take your fucking flowers with you. I would never go back to you.”

  He tosses the flowers on the pavement, and before I know it, he advances on me backing me up into my car where he cages me in.

  “Back away,” I say on a broken whisper, all hints of bravery gone. His hand comes up and fists around my neck effectively shutting me the fuck up and scaring the living hell out of me.

  “You don’t have Daddy here to protect you anymore, Emelia. You wanted to be on your own then you’re going to need to learn how to fight your own battles. You want to fight me, fine. You do it … I guarantee you, you’ll lose.” He smiles, releasing me and taking a step back. My hand involuntarily goes to my neck, and I let out a breath.

  “Stay the fuck away from me. We’re so done.”

  He juts his chin out, and it’s as if he’s accepting the challenge. A challenge I don’t want to be a part of.

  “We’ll see,” is all he says before turning and walking away. When I look down at the flowers, my first thought is to want to leave them there, pull my car out of my parking spot, and run them over, but one of my coworkers might see them on the floor and ask questions. Instead, I pick them up, toss them in my backseat, and make a mental note to throw them in the first trash bin I come across. I’m on edge the entire drive home, carefully watching the rearview mirror and hoping Garrett isn’t following me. In all of my dealings with him—the good and bad times—I can’t recall a time I ever felt particularly scared of him. Not until today. It makes me think that maybe everyone underestimates him; maybe he’s just as shrewd and ruthless as his father is. I make the decision to call my father tonight and let him know what’s going on. He’ll make sure that Garrett stays away from me. I’m not normally the type to run to Daddy with all of my problems, but I’m not about to fuck around with this shit. Not when I’m out here on my own. He needs to know if I’m potentially unsafe.

  I breathe a sigh of relief when I reach my building and pull into the parking lot. Without delay, I grab my things and hustle into the building, dropping the flowers in the receptacle outside. Once I’m in my apartment, I change out of my work clothes and into a comfy pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I nuke a leftover slice of pizza and turn on the television. It’s lame, I know, but the noise helps me to feel a little less lonely. It always has. People, staff, family, and friends chosen by my mother have surrounded me all my life, but it doesn’t change the fact I’ve always felt lonely. I don’t really have an explanation for it; it’s just always been that way with me. The few times I haven’t felt that way have been the times I’ve spent in recent years with my father and sister.

  I spot the yellow gift bag on the kitchen counter thinking that maybe I should go over and give it to the neighbors. I spotted the man again yesterday, this time in the parking lot; he was coming in the building with the baby. I felt a sense of relief when I saw that my suspicions were wrong and the baby was okay. I didn’t see the woman again, but I figured she’d likely gone in ahead of them. After seeing that, the conversation I had earlier in the day with Hannah about making new friends popped into my head, so I dropped by a baby store during lunch today and picked up a small gift. I figure now’s as good a time as any, so I move to the kitchen, pick up the gift bag, and head over to their apartment.

  I knock on the door feeling all kinds of stupid for coming over here, but it’s the neighborly thing to do, right? I wait but there’s no answer, and I’m almost relieved that no one is home. It would have sucked if he had answered the door. It could have been embarrassing, especially after he caught me in the hallway after he had his thing yesterday. I’m sure it would have been awkward for both of us. I’m just about to turn and walk back to my apartment when the door abruptly opens.

  “Yeah?”

  It’s him. Of course, it had to be him. Why wouldn’t it be him? This is confirmation of the universe’s constant need to fuck with me. He’s staring at me impatiently, and I can’t help but to give him a once-over. What I notice is that my original assessment of him was slightly off. He’s not hot. He’s oh-my-effing-god hot, and I decide instantly that there’s no way in hell I could ever be friends with his wife because I’d spend my time with her silently lusting after her husband. From my estimation, I’d guess that he’s easily around six-foot-one, muscular, but not overly. You can see just the right amount of muscle tone under his dark gray Henley. His powerful thighs fill his jeans to perfection. I look up noticing that his thick, dark brown hair has just a hint of a wave. The kind that makes you think that maybe he’s slightly overdue for a haircut but you’d like to run your fingers through it anyway. His eyes are a milky colored brown and rimmed with impossibly long lashes. I’m not sure with the dim lighting in this hallway, but I swear I can almost see traces of green in them. He’s just … wow.

  “Can I help you?” he asks, pulling me out of my standing coma and clearly losing patience with me.

  “Um, hi,” I say with a slight wave. Jesus, I’m a dork. “I’m Emelia. I just moved in across the hall from you.”

  His eyes go to my closed front door and then come back to me. With absolutely no mercy, he mutters, “Yeah, the old guy who lived there finally kicked the bucket.”

  “The previous tenant passed away?” I ask hesitantly.

  “Yeah,” he replies matter-of-factly.

  “Oh,” I say all the while thinking that this is just great, that’s all I fucking need is to be haunted by the ghost of a dead guy. “Did he die in the actual apartment?”

  “No clue,” he says reaching for something in his apartment and producing a jacket that he wastes no time in putting on. I shake off my shock at the news of a possible death in my apartment and give him a smile.

  “Right. Well, anyway. I know you and your wife just had a baby, and I just thought I’d drop by and bring you a little something to say congrats.”

  “I don’t have a wife.”

  God! This guy doesn’t make having a conversation easy. “Oh. Okay, then your girlfriend.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.” This piques my interest a little too much. He seems like a bit of an asshole, but Jesus Christ, he’s bea
utiful. I find myself needing to know what the deal is, even though it’s absolutely none of my business. I know I should just leave it alone, but instead, I press on.

  “Ah, I saw her last week. I just assumed, and then I saw you with the baby. I guess I thought …”

  “She wasn’t my girlfriend, and she’s gone now, so ...” he says reaching over to a small table by the entryway and grabbing a set of keys.

  “She left you? With a baby?”

  “Wasn’t her choice seeing as though she died.” He responds brusquely, and I gasp feeling horrible and astonished by the news he’s just delivered. I can’t explain why it makes me so sad that she’s passed away since I didn’t know her. I didn’t know anything about her, yet she was so young and she left behind a precious baby. How could it not make me sad?

  “Oh, my god. Oh, my god. I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” He cuts me off. I watch his face searching for a reaction, looking for any hint of emotion at all, but he doesn’t give me one. Instead, he turns and walks inside letting the door open up, allowing me a better view inside. Whatever mess he made when he had his outburst yesterday has been cleared away and in its place is a nice apartment complete with all the necessary baby items. He picks up the baby carrier with the cutest little boy I’ve ever seen sleeping in it and comes back to me. “Listen, I’m just on my way out,” he says, placing the carrier down next to him.

  “Of course,” I say quickly handing him the gift bag and moving back. He takes it and puts it down on the floor off to the side of the doorway. “Listen, I know you don’t know me, but if there’s anything you need, if there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to knock on my door.”

  He looks me up and down, probably trying to figure me out. Probably wondering why this strange girl is taking a sudden interest in his life and offering her help. “Thanks, but this is temporary,” he finally says.

  I tilt my head and narrow my eyes in confusion. “What’s temporary?”

  “This,” he says jutting his chin in the direction of the baby. “He won’t be with me much longer.”

  I feel like I’ve just walked into the middle of a private discussion, and I’ve missed all of the pertinent information. “What do you mean? Why won’t he be with you?”

  “I'm looking into adoption for him.”

  Okay. This is my cue to leave. To step away from the jerk of a man standing in front of me and forget what I’ve heard, but I can’t. It’s like driving by a car wreck. I NEED to know. “Why?”

  He shrugs his shoulders at me. Shrugs, like this is some simple decision about a minor inconvenience, and I swear I want to punch him in the face right now. Knock some fucking sense into his super hot head. What is the matter with him?

  “Because I didn’t sign up to be a single dad.”

  “I see.” Nodding my head trying, but most likely failing, to hide the disgust I’m feeling right now.

  “You think I’m a terrible person.”

  “Yes.” I answer honestly because … well, because he’s been brutally and inappropriately honest with me thus far. I figure he won’t even flinch at my candor.

  His jaw clenches and he juts out his chin. “Thanks for not sugarcoating it,” he spits out. Is he angry with me? He’s a frickin apartment destroyer, deadbeat dad psycho, and he has the nerve to get angry with me?

  “He’s your son.” I remind him of a fact he’s already aware of, placing my hand on my hips and glaring at him.

  “I know that.”

  “That girl I saw, she wanted him, right?” I don’t know why I’m asking; I just feel like I need to reason with him. I get the sense that maybe his fear of being a single dad to an infant is behind his decision. He said, I didn’t sign up to be a single dad. He never said he didn’t want to be a dad, he didn’t say he didn’t love his son or that he thought he would be better off without him. Maybe he just needs someone to put this into perspective for him.

  “Yeah, but she’s gone.” His irritation with me is clear. I don’t give a fuck.

  “Yeah, she’s gone. She died for him. She died so that you could have him. It was a gift. The most precious fucking gift you could ever receive and you’re throwing it away because you don’t feel like being a single dad?”

  “I didn’t ask for this,” he says through clenched teeth.

  “He didn’t either,” I half yell pointing my finger at the sleeping baby. “But he’s here now.”

  “I don’t have time for this shit,” he says blowing me off as he picks up the carrier. “Thanks for stopping by, but like I said before, I have to go.”

  “Yeah. Maybe you should give him away,” I mumble as I turn and walk toward my door.”

  “What did you say?” he calls after me. I turn and take two steps toward him again.

  “I said, maybe you should give him away. A kid should have a parent who loves him, not someone who can’t be bothered to love him, someone who’ll just tolerate him. That beautiful baby deserves more than that.” I deliver my parting blow, walk into my apartment, close the door behind me, and burst into tears. It may seem stupid, but I cry for that girl who I saw happily entering that dickhead’s apartment last week.

  I cry because she was probably so excited to be a mother, to have her baby and start her family and that promise was taken away from her.

  I cry because she’ll never get to see him grow. Instead, she had to leave him with a father who can’t even appreciate what a miracle he is.

  I cry for that little baby because I know exactly what it’s like to have a parent who is just so fucking, FUCKING selfish.

  I cry for myself as much as I cry for them, and I hope that precious little boy will get a better outcome than I did.

  Max~

  All this stress must finally be catching up with me. Something is obviously wrong with me. What kind of fucked-up person shares all that kind of shit with a poor, unsuspecting woman who was just trying to be nice? Me. That’s who! In my defense, all that shit just came falling out of my mouth. I didn’t even know what I was doing. I secure the car seat into its base and get in the car. Pulling out of the parking lot, I head over to the crematorium for the small service planned for Keri. I think that maybe this is the reason why I lost it on Emelia. She caught me just as I was getting ready to leave so I could attend this thing. And this … this is the last thing I want to be doing right now. Before now, I could just be in denial about the whole situation. I could tell myself that Keri wasn’t really gone, but this kind of makes it real. This gives it a finality that not even I can deny. I guess her death is just a hard truth for me to accept. It’s not like I ever loved her, and I probably never would have ... not really. Not in the way she would have wanted, and I couldn’t tell you why, couldn’t put my finger on it. She was smart, beautiful, and was good in bed, but she didn’t excite me. Well, obviously, she excited me enough, but I mean the everyday kind of way. She was comfortable in her little apartment that she had to share and comfortable with her job that would never give her financial security. The only thing I ever saw her work hard for was Xander, and at times, me. I think that if she had showed that amount of passion for the other areas of her life then maybe I would have been able to see her differently. It doesn’t mean I didn’t care for her in my own way; maybe I did even love her a little in the only way I could. But I knew from the start she would never be the one. Not that I ever put much thought or effort into finding the one. That doesn’t interest me at all, especially now in the middle of the shit storm I’m in.

  Now, that Emelia chick … she was a fucking spitfire. She’d known me all of five minutes before she was giving me grief for shit she had no clue about. She had no problem getting in my face and telling me exactly what she thought of me. I underestimated her, that’s for sure. At first glance, she seemed timid, unsure of herself, afraid even, but once she got angry, it was like a whole different girl. Her looks only help to sweeten the deal. Yeah, I noticed, I’m a guy. What do you expect? S
he was wearing just a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but she could have been wearing a trash bag for all I’d care. She was, by far, one of the prettiest women I’d ever seen. Her lips caught my attention first. The gloss on them made them appear pink, full, and completely fuckable. Her eyes were a deep, dark blue, like the color of the sky just before a storm rolls in. The kind of eyes you could get lost in, be hypnotized by them. The way her wavy brown hair fell wildly over her shoulder made me want to reach out and grab it. She was definitely sweet from head to toe, but I can’t let myself go there. First off because I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to do with the kid. I know I told her I was putting him up for adoption, but I was still pissed from my lack of sleep last night. Second, after the run-in we just had, I’m sure she hates my guts. Whatever, you shouldn’t shit where you sleep anyway, and she’s a little too close to home for comfort.

  I pull into the almost empty parking lot of the crematorium taking the spot closest to the front door and shutting off the ignition. I angle out of the car and make quick work of getting Xander and heading inside. The owner greets me at the door, fills me in on how the service will work, and then leads me to the room where Keri is. Jack and Rachel are there, as well as some of Keri’s co-workers and her roommates. It hits me that this is the first time I’ll see her since the moment they kicked me out of her delivery room. It then hits me that this is the last time I’ll ever see her, and more importantly, it hits me that this is the last time Xander will ever be in his mother’s presence. There’s something stifling about that fact, the thought of it almost unbearable. He’ll never know what it’s like to be held in her arms, to be loved by her the way only a mother can love a child.