Loved In Pieces (The Intentions Series)

by Carla J Hanna

  I went to the kitchen to get breakfast from the marked container in the fridge. I felt defeated but I needed to forget my worries and start my day. I had to exercise. I had to take my finals. I stood in front of the window in the living room. I found comfort from the colors in the canyon. It was dawn.

  I went back to my room to put on my swimsuit so I could soak in the hot tub and watch the colors change in the valley as the sun rose and fog came in. I would be ready for today’s finals as long as I calmed my worries about my health. Dad was outside on the chaise when I went outside.

  “Dad, did you sleep out here?”

  “Come here, my filly.” He opened his arm and opened his blanket so I could snuggle with him. I instantly felt loved being next to him.

  “I can’t forgive your mom because I can’t forgive myself for leaving you both. I let the hate I had for the industry consume me. I should have been more balanced. Michelle urged me to find balance. She found a riding stable for sale that I could fix up and manage in Temescal Canyon. I didn’t even try. I gave her an ultimatum: it was either me or acting. That wasn’t fair. Look what I drove her to do…”

  He couldn’t finish. He held me. I comforted him. “Dad, everyone is responsible for their own actions. It’s not your fault.”

  “My filly, life is much more complicated than that. Yes, we’re responsible for our own actions, but our actions are always in reaction to the situation. When a horse bucks off a rider, it’s rarely the horse’s fault. The more stressful the situation the more the reasons to take action get blurred with emotion. I left you both, which was…wrong. But I had to get out of here, out of L.A., this culture. Michelle was desperate and alone with you. She was stressed and made a horrendous decision.”

  He didn’t want to talk anymore. “I’m sorry, Lia. I love you and am sorry I let you down.”

  There was no need to pretend that he didn’t let me down because it was certainly true that he did. I missed him every day since he left. I needed him for the last five years, and a summer every year or brief trip to Palo Alto or the weekly phone call just didn’t cut it.

  I said the only thing I could say, “I love you, too, Dad.”

  I sat with him as the sun rose and then left to get ready for my workout.

  ~ | ~ FINALS

  Dad was in the living room when I got home from my first day of finals. He greeted me, “Lia, come here.” I sat with him on the couch.

  “I met Jack at UCLA today and with the FBI agents assigned to the investigation. He gave us a run-down of the crime. He expedited your labs and is analyzing the results of what he has so far. I’ve arranged for him to see Michelle on Sunday after graduation. He wants to see you again, too.

  “After Jack left, I gave the agents your and Michelle’s contact information. They’ll respect your request for confidentiality, but want you to be sure to cooperate with them immediately upon request. Jack will continue to know you only as CSY7, but honestly all he has to do is watch TV to know who you are.”

  I laughed, “Good, then he won’t know who we are. I’m sure he didn’t recognize me or you—which was kind of weird—so I get the feeling that pop culture is not one of his interests.”

  “No,” Dad agreed. “Not when he is trying to save his son, which is what I wanted to talk to you about. His son is nineteen. He was treated with x-nib when Michelle was, five years ago. He had some type of leukemia that was resistant to the treatments they tried, but x-nib cured him. The only side effects that he had were the same tumor you have and the same slow aging that you have experienced. Other than having a weak immune system, he’s healthy.”

  “But Dr. Jack freaked out that I was on both drugs for four years. He said that it was an aggressive chemotherapy, a last resort.” I admitted, “I’m worried that I might die tomorrow.”

  “At this time, there is no need to worry about you dying, and Jack is confident that they will have a cure soon. They know the issue is with your pituitary gland. With the new data you and Michelle can offer, he is sure that his team will figure it out. Already, he said that your existence has made him think of new possibilities. He already wants to give his patients the immunity booster once he talks with Michelle and analyzes her prescriptions.”

  He hugged me tightly and kissed my forehead. “You’re not going to die of this, filly.”

  I was more than relieved, but I had to ask, “What about missing my period? Will that be… permanent?”

  “I wish I could remember his words. But he thinks you’ll menstruate again. His son can reproduce. He’ll run tests on how your tissues respond to the chemo alone, the chemo with the immunity drug in combo, and the immunity drug alone.” He handed me a piece of paper. “You’re going to need support. Dr. Jack included his son’s email. He’s the CSY6@gmail.com address. He’s been through this and can help you. He lives in Geneva, Switzerland with his mom and sisters.”

  I exhaled and closed my eyes. So much worry. So much speculation. This was exhausting.

  “Dad? Can you do me a favor?”

  “Sure. What?”

  “Can I be a kid just a while longer and have the adults handle the whole cancer discussion with the doctor thing and keep me out of the speculation? I spent all day thinking I was going to live a long, lonely life as an infertile old maid.”

  “You’re my little filly. Yes. I can do that …for now.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I’m going to go shower now. I feel grimy.”

  I walked to my room and logged into my new Gmail account.

  I decided to reach out to Jack’s son. He lived through having leukemia. Jack said he would help. I wondered what time it was in Switzerland.

  Hi. I’m CSY7.

  I just met your dad Saturday. He did tests on me yesterday. He was looking for any cancer growth that x-nib could have caused and said I have a non-functioning tumor, just like you had.

  He said that I could talk to you about stuff. I write better normally, but this is hard because I am not used to talking to strangers. I’m a celebrity and shouldn’t tell you who I am, so please, let’s call each other by our case number. That bone marrow needle was really creepy, by the way. Your dad said you’ve had that done several times. Ouch. I’m glad I couldn’t feel it entirely. It still hurt like hell, though.

  I’m 18. I just found out that my mom gave me Xrysinib when I was 14. I’ve taken it for 4 years. She takes it, too, started 5 years ago, as an alternative to plastic surgery—to look young..

  I know it was despicable to give me the drug, but now I’m trying to cope. The past is the past. I’m now looking for hope. Your dad said that it cured you but now people have died who took it. Are you afraid?

  The thing that knots my stomach most is that the one thing I wanted most in life was to find love, have babies, have grandkids. Dr. Mark said that my menstrual cycle would return when I’m off x-nib. Now I don’t believe him because I don’t believe anything he said. I’m worried that I won’t be able to have babies. I don’t think I could ask any one that I really loved to marry me knowing that he could never have children with me. It wouldn’t be fair to him. I’d adopt to have kids, even though I’d be forever single. I’m worried that my mom will die. —CSY7

  I pressed send, knowing that the email was a confusing mess of thoughts but also knowing I was safe from judgment because CSY6 would never know me.

  When I got out of my shower, Dad was on the phone with someone from his clinic. I studied for finals and saw that I had an email on my Gmail account.

  Hi CSY7. Please don’t despair.

  First, I want to tell you how sorry I am that you’ve experienced such a blow. Next I want to tell you to have hope. I have hope.

  Your data will help my dad and his team reanalyze the other test results and find a cure. Perhaps your pituitary gland will unlock its secrets. We know that somehow the drug damaged the gland. Obviously x-nib caused the tumor.

  Second, take a step back. I was 12 when I got childhood leukemia. My Grandpa and uncle died of
leukemia, too. I thought for sure I was a goner when chemo didn’t work when I was 13. Even after I was ‘cured’ I still thought I’d die by the time I graduated high school. That was a year ago, and I’m still here and still strong.

  When you’re first diagnosed, you go through the 5 Steps of Grief: 1.Denial and Isolation; 2. Anger; 3. Bargaining; 4. Depression; 5. Acceptance. If you have a tumor on your gland, it’s not terminal. You’ll have an easy surgery and get it out of your brain. Trust me, you’ll live through it. I’ve experienced that the body takes a ton of abuse. I’ve had bone marrow transplants, chemo, radiation, brain surgery. It all hurts, but stay positive. Your body will heal.

  I also missed lots of school. The cool thing with our condition is that I’m repeating high school. I’m finishing my junior year in Geneva. It’s actually great to repeat high school. It gave me a second chance. I study hard. I’m learning everything that I missed. I’m taking languages. I’m already fluent in French, German and English and am learning Mandarin, Italian and Russian.

  Your fear of your mom dying and your fear of being infertile are overreactions right now. The fears are going to come at you—I sure had terrible nightmares—but you have to acknowledge the feelings and let them go. That was hard for me to do. I’ll help you.

  Here’s what I’ve learned from facing death a few times: Bodies are resilient. We can endure a lot of physical pain. Avoid the self-inflicted emotional pain. Live life fully. Have fun. Make the most of yourself. Improve yourself. Think through your actions to make sure you can live with the consequences. Make good decisions so you can live a long, happy life. —CSY6

  I felt better after reading Six’s email and ventured out of my room to find Dad. He apologized that he needed to take a red-eye flight back to Palo Alto. Two of the polo horses collided and the clinic needed him.

  A pang of unfairness hit me hard. Dealing with my fear of cancer produced a new level of stress I had not experienced. It was not a physical stress like the kind I felt at awards shows or after Dad left. My knees did not buckle. I could not make up my mind to act my way out of it. It was a stressful and angry feeling that left me hollow and desperate.

  Dad and I had dinner together, and then I drove him to the Los Angeles airport to take a flight to San Jose, California. Manuel hadn’t arrived to spend the night so I texted him. I studied for finals but couldn’t concentrate. I missed Manuel so much that my chest ached.

  ~ | ~ INTENTIONS

  Awake at dawn again, I found myself in the hot tub listening to the crows squawk.

  Yes, Michelle betrayed me and lied. But she also loved me. I saw it in her haunting eyes. I also saw it in the strain of her face. She was truly sorry. She was a good person who did a monstrous thing. I understood her but didn’t like her and would never trust her again.

  “Hi. You okay?” Manuel asked from the doorway. He was in his underwear.

  “Hurry in!” I shouted. “Someone could take a photo!”

  I laughed when he got into the hot tub, splashing everywhere. I kept laughing, smiling. I was happy.

  Manuel was confused. “You seem happy?”

  “Well, I am. Content really.”

  He interrupted. “How? What? Lia… after your…”

  I interrupted, looking at him with a sincere smile. “I understand Michelle. I’m peaceful.”

  He was pissed, frowning. “¡Dios mío! Liana Marie, you can be so mental! I will not let you forgive her. This is total bullshit!”

  I just shook my head and smiled at him. He did not understand.

  He fumed, “Lia, you forgive too easily. Your dad left you, you forgive him. Your parents made you live all alone for months at a time, you forgive them. Hollywood messed you up, you forgive the bastards. Byron pressured you, you forgive him. I pressured you, you forgive me. My mom insulted you, you forgive her. Michelle hurts you, you forgive her? I can’t allow you to keep doing this to yourself. She has to pay, to suffer! You can’t forgive her.”

  “But then I suffer, too. I understand that we all do bad things and make mistakes. There are very, very few things that are black and white. There is lots of gray.”

  Manuel did not agree. I could see it in his face. He definitely thought I was mental, the willing victim.

  “You think I have some Native American victim-mentality, don’t you?” I asked rhetorically with a scoff.

  He threw up his hands but didn’t confirm my question.

  “My Bitterroot Salish ancestors were lied to, misplaced, and deceived but my tribe overcomes adversity. I do, too—with the strength from their spirits. Of course I’m angry but I don’t see myself as a victim because I don’t see the villains in my case. I said that I understand Michelle, not that I like her. I think there are definite monsters, true villains out there—sociopaths who truly feel pleasure and power from making others suffer and feel pain. Michelle is not a sociopath. I put Matthew and Dr. Mark in that category of villain, though.”

  “She drugged you.”

  “To me, it’s a question of intent, not of action. Did Byron intend to irritate the hell out of me? No. He thought I was complicit. He loved me. Did Michelle intend to hurt me? Did she know I could get cancer from the medicine? No. She kept me beautiful and gave me a successful, envied career. She lied and deceived me and I think she’s a bitch but she didn’t think it through. Did Hollywood intend to complicate teenagers’ relationships with expectations that we all should be having X-rated sex? No. Hollywood puts sex in movies, people watch them, and then everyone thinks people require lots of sex in movies. There’s too much money at stake to try something without sex or violence. Do consumers intend to demand Hollywood make films full of sex and violence? No. They just want to be entertained. Are there unintended consequences? Absolutely!”

  I could still see that he struggled with my perceptions. He was not thinking of the context. He watched that rape scene in his head, imagining that I was really getting raped.

  “I need to explain to you how I see the events that haunt you. Would that help you understand?”

  He put his hands in the air and waved them with an exasperated expression, as if he were thinking, “Duh! Bring it on Ms. Victim-Mentality.”

  “Let’s start with the rape scene. It was the day after my fourteenth birthday. I was on set with about twenty to thirty people around me, what we call a closed set. I was prepared for what was going to happen in the scene. Michelle helped me with the non-verbal script. I was ready and willing. My body was on fire with desire for Rex—thrilled with the feeling of my first kiss.

  “I knew I was not being raped the whole time. I was in a safe environment. Instead, I was shocked that the feelings I had for Rex were so physical. At the same time, I was completely disgusted with myself that I felt that way. I was mad at them for not telling me that I might feel something physical during the scene and mad at Michelle for not telling me that my body would be aroused. I was painfully, intensely embarrassed.

  “What you saw in that scene were my conflicting emotions because you know me and knew that I wanted him off me. I absolutely did not want him to kiss or touch me. Was it Rex’s or the crew’s intention to violate my trust? No. They had no idea—I had no idea—that I would feel that way.”

  He smiled. “Now, back to your delusional mental state: Angel, Byron is an ass.”

  “He’s a nice guy at heart who’s confused, caught up in the culture of drugs and sex.” I was quiet for a moment thinking of the right way to explain this one. I was sure Matthew intended to rape me and was sure that Byron just wanted to have sex. I’d start at the limo and go backwards to help him see it the way I did. I knew Byron. He didn’t.

  “We’ll start at the limo and go backwards in time. Here’s what I saw. Byron saw Claire in the parking lot and within a minute was probably making out with her. She was willing. She wanted him. Remember he said he saw the driver and thought the limo would be a good place to shack. Well he didn’t see that paying a driver $100 for 15 minutes was like paying fo
r sex—$100 to the pimp and a quick score on a prostitute. Remember, Claire was the one who gave the driver $100 for 15 minutes. Was she, then, paying Byron’s pimp for a score with the heartthrob she desired? No. Neither of them saw it that way. Together they agreed to pay for privacy. Claire wanted sex with a heartthrob. She desired him. Byron wanted sex. It worked for them.

  “With me, it was different. But at the time Byron didn’t see that. I was so pissed with him for delaying the shoot and having no concept that being so dense was costing thousands of dollars for each retake. I agreed to practice lines with him in his condo. To him, I was willing just because I was alone in his condo, because how could I not be? He thought everyone wanted him because everyone but me has wanted him. I was the exception. You know, I kept kissing him even though I kept telling him to back off. And then after I had two beers, I lost my restraint. I made out with him. I freaked out. I didn’t communicate. It confused both of us.”

  “Angel, he kissed you on purpose you after you started dating me to make a future claim.”

  “Is Byron evil? No; he’s a prick who’s used to getting what he wants. What was the consequence? I feel like a complete weakling and unfortunately gave him hope that he can have me. But, I’m responsible for my inaction.”

  He held my hand. “You shouldn’t forgive him. Besides, a twenty-one-year-old man has no business being with a high school senior. All I saw in the limo was some shameless prick pleased with himself for having a posse of pussy.”