Broken Like Glass

by E. J. McCay

  Uriah doesn’t let go for a long time and for the first time in years I feel like someone is pressing me together so hard I might just mend. It feels so good to be wanted and warm. I search my mind for a time when I’ve felt wanted and there’s nothing but a blank.

  I know mamma and daddy loved me, right? So why do I feel like this? If I’ve never felt wanted, how do I know what it feels like? Is this wanted or just something else I don’t have a definition for?

  Eventually, I stand on the stairs watching him leave, the cold air works its way into my pores so deep I’m shivering by the time I walk in my door.

  I stand in the dark living room, my mind a whirl like those dark clouds earlier today. My breath comes out in puffs. Evidently, I didn’t turn the heat on before I left and in true Texas April form, it’s freezing in the cabin. A shiver runs down my spine into my toes so I fumble in the dark for the light switch and flick it on.

  It was bright enough earlier I didn’t need a light, now in the dark, I needed light as only one bulb seemed to be functioning. Tomorrow, I will walk into town and get more. I count at least six between the living room and kitchen as I walk to the thermostat, setting it in the seventies. At this point, I care less about the gas bill and more about my impending venture as an icicle.

  On my way to the bedroom, I flick the light off in the living room and hit the switch in the bedroom. Make that ten bulbs. I dress for bed in the moonlight, thankful this cabin sits out of town in the woods because of the lack of curtains over the windows. The sliding glass doors are big and the moonlight covers the whole room in a hazy light.

  I stand at the doors for a moment taking in the woods surrounding the place. If this was an ocean, the cabin would be my life preserver, I guess. I know Uriah said I’m not alone. I hear the words blazing in my brain, but they don’t stop the feeling.

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning, Papa has decided it should be bright and sunny, with a side of loud birds. Worst. Alarm Clock. Ever. I like birds, just not this early. Even if early is not all that early as I roll to look at the alarm clock and its red block numbers are telling me it’s nearly noon.

  I stretch so long and hard my toes peek out the end of my blanket. My shoulders, spine, and neck crack in a couple of spots. The bed is lumpy and uncomfortable, but I slept like a stone in a creek. How, I’ll never know other than maybe my body and mind were so tired a bed made of needles would have worked just as well.

  For a moment, I roll on my side and pull the covers up over my head with my eyes peeking out looking through the glass doors. The birds are still loud, but I’m less cranky so they don’t bother me as much. That is until a woodpecker decides to drill a tree right outside the window. I take my cue from Woody, and throw the covers off and hang my legs over the side of the bed.

  My stomach gurgles and groans and I frown. My list of to-dos didn’t include grocery shopping yesterday. If I recall correctly when I was putting up my stuff yesterday, I’ve stuffed a drawer with some fruit bars and the thought propels me off the bed and in the direction of the kitchen.

  The floor boards thud as my bare feet hit them. On the way to the fruit bar-filled drawer, I stop by the thermostat and dial it down a notch. Life in Texas. One moment you're freezing to death, the next minute you’re considering stripping.

  I find the drawer full of bars, rip one open, and read the package: a slice of heaven in your mouth. Heaven is not what I experience when I bite into it. I rake the bite off my tongue with my finger and look at the rest of the bar. Tasting moldy armpit had not been on my bucket list, but at least now I can check it off.

  Then I remember the bag of tacos Uriah handed me before I got out of the truck last night. “Thanks, Tish,” I say and pull the handle of the fridge. The tacos are cold, but the aroma makes my stomach grumble even louder.

  I snag the bag and pull a chair out to the deck. The legs squeak and bump on the wood floor as I drag it behind me. With my feet on the railing and my butt in the chair, I unwrap a taco and take a greedy bite. Cold or not, the taco tastes great and if I compare it to the armpit fruit bar, it’s downright delicious.

  Birds flit and flirt in the canopy of the trees. Woody is still pounding away on the pine tree. His red head is bright against the trunk of the tree. He stops for a moment and points his little beak at me like he’s trying to decide if my head might be a good place to pound away for a while. I guess he decides against it because he starts back on the tree. “You're a loud little sucker, arn’tcha?” I say to him. Woody just hammers down.

  As I unwrap my second taco, I fling the crumbs of the first one onto the deck, away from me. Maybe I can make friends with the birds. I bite into the second taco with a realization I’m not as hungry as I was and cold tacos aren’t nearly as delicious the second time around. I almost wrap it back up, but I’ve come this far so why not finish it. By the time I’m done, I’m wishing I hadn’t been so persistent.

  A light tap at the door breaks my attention on the birds I’m watching. I look over my shoulder and Bo is standing at the door. I can see him through one of the glass panels framing the door. “Come on in,” I yell and look back at the birds.

  He stops on his way to the deck and grabs a chair, picking it up instead of dragging it. The legs hit the deck with a thud. “Good morning, good looking. How are you today?”

  I cut my eyes to him. “What?”

  “You feeling any better?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know.” It sounds more curt than I plan.

  “Don’t go biting my head off, Ms. James.”

  “Sorry, it came out wronger than I planned.”

  The bag of tacos sits next to the leg of my chair, and Bo reaches down and digs one out. “Tacos for lunch?”

  “Breakfast. I just woke up.”

  “Any good?”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Starved.”

  “Then, they’re delicious.”

  Bo looks at the taco warily.

  “I got some fruit bars you could sue for false advertisement.” I hook a thumb in the direction of the kitchen.

  “I’ll stick with the taco.” Bo unwraps it and picks off the wilted lettuce.

  “Huh, I didn’t even think to do that.”

  “Can’t stand lettuce and wilted lettuce is even worse.”

  Of course, I knew that. I’ve known Bo since forever and lettuce might as well be a machete-wielding El Chupacabra. “You know, it’s not evil.”

  “Says you.” He finishes picking off the lettuce and inspects it for any lingering tiny green monsters. When he’s satisfied the lettuce is gone he takes a bite and noisily chews. “Good stuff,” he says with his mouth full.

  “Told ya.”

  Bo pauses eating a moment. “I think I may have persuaded Judge Kringle to let your car go.”

  That news should excite me, but I kinda like being chauffeured by Uriah. “Yeah?” I wiggle my toes as a breeze blows by.

  The taco wrapper buzzes and Bo grabs it so it doesn’t fly off. “Yeah, but it would be more convincing if Chrissy backed me up. She said you didn’t talk at all in therapy.”

  “It’s Chrissy, Bo. I’ve known her since we could play shirtless in a kiddie pool.”

  Bo laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah, but she’s what you’ve got and if you have any intentions of ever going back to Austin, she’ll need to sign off on you.”

  I rake a hand through my hair and the legs of my chair crack as I drop my feet on the deck. “I see her tomorrow. I’ll try. I just don’t know if I can.”

  “You could always talk to me, ya know? Best friend, Bo?”

  I balance my elbows on my knees and drop my head in my hands. I’ve got all kinds of offers to talk, but what I can’t seem to make anyone understand is that I don’t know what to say. I’m grateful for the offers, but it seems like beating my head against a concrete wall. Instead of saying something hateful, I nod and lean back in the chair. “I know and if something changes I’ll let you know.” />
  Bo finishes off the taco, reaches down, and digs in the bag for another. He works it over like the last and takes a bite. “Ugh. Not as good as the first.”

  “Would you have believed me if I’d told you that?”

  He flings the wilted lettuce over the railing and picks at the taco filling. “Probably not. How can the first one taste so good and not the second one?”

  “Got me,” I say and eye the taco. “I suffered through and ate the second one. I’ve got a long while until the potluck tonight.”

  “Martha Goldman is still bringing that God-awful mac and cheese.”

  “Who eats it?”

  “I don’t know, but the bowl is clean at the end of the dinner every time.”

  “Someone has to be raking it in the trash to save her feelings. That’s the only possible explanation.”

  Bo throws his head back and laughs. After last night, it’s even squishier today. I can’t seem to keep my thoughts from drifting to Uriah. His bright green eyes, electric smile, and throaty laugh tickle my throat, my stomach and give me goosebumps. I rub my arms to try to erase the evidence, but I’m too late.

  “You cold?”

  I pull my sleeves down and cover my hands with the cuffs. “Not really.”

  He points to my now covered arms. “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  His phone starts beeping, and he pulls it out of his tailored jacket pocket. “Oh, time for me to go. Short lunch. Got some sixth graders to impress today.”

  I look at him funny.

  “I told Becky Martin I’d come in and talk to the kids. She’s doing a section on law in history class.”

  “She still giving you those looks like she did in high school?”

  Bo cuts his eyes at me like I’ve broached a sensitive topic. “Yeah.”

  I smile.

  “I’ll pick you up tonight if you want to go to the potluck at church.”

  “Already got a ride.”

  “Who?”

  “Uriah Pendleton.”

  Bo stands and looks down at me. The way the sun is shining through the trees it gives him a halo like he’s some angel sent to rescue me, but he’s not Uriah. He harumphs.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Of course, he’s picking you up. He’s crushed on you since we were kids.”

  “You knew?”

  “You didn’t?”

  “No.”

  Bo shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Lillian James, you are the most clueless person I’ve ever known.”

  That doesn’t set right with me and I prickle with anger. “Maybe I just didn’t want to know. Maybe I wanted to be clueless. You ever think of that? Maybe I thought if I knew I couldn’t leave this town and leaving this town was what I needed most at the time?”

  “Well, you’re back now, and those of us left in your wake, are still trying to piece together what happened to you and why you left and never came back.”

  I sigh and I can feel the water pooling in my eyes. Bo seems to notice and his stance softens.

  “I’m sorry, Lilly,” he says and checks his phone again. “I gotta go. I’ll see you later.”

  In my head, I say, “Yeah, later,” and he leaves before I realize I didn’t say it out loud.

  Chapter Eight

  I spend my day on the deck, watching the birds, listening to the distant creek, and pushing back at the memory trying to crawl its way out of my skull. When I go to take my shower, dark clouds are rolling in again and I wonder if it’ll rain before Uriah arrives to pick me up. That’s Texas for ya.

  The water isn’t set to boiling this time, but it still feels good. I haven’t quite put my finger on why the shower in this cabin feels better than any shower I’ve ever taken. Maybe it’s the quiet, maybe it’s the smell of the woods, or maybe it’s just me and I haven’t felt clean in such a long time and part of me thinks if I stand under the water long enough I’ll feel squeaky again.

  After my shower, I stand by the glass doors in the bedroom. Not a drop of water has fallen, but I can taste the rain in the air. The clouds keep getting darker like they’re being fed from the memories I’m keeping under lock and key. I lean my forehead against the glass and let the coolness seep in.

  I walk back into the bathroom. The fog from my shower has dissipated, and I can see myself in the mirror. Looking in the mirror has been a weird thing for me since I was a kid. Other people tell me they see their reflection, but not me.

  What I see when I look in the mirror is fractured. When that happened I don’t know, a pull in my stomach tells me I’m reaching for something I can’t quite handle yet so I smile at the person staring back at me and walk away.

  Makeup has never been my thing so, I use my time to finger comb my hair. If I brush it, the humidity will make me look like I’ve stuck my finger in a socket. It hangs loosely down my back and over my shoulders. The light brown curls bounce as I continue getting some of the bigger tangles out.

  I hear the crunch of tires out front and close my eyes. Uriah. The name is like cotton candy on my tongue. It just melts into my taste buds and the flavor blankets my mouth, lingering and sugary.

  When he knocks on the door, he says, “Hey, Lills, it’s me. Are you decent?”

  “I’m dressed if that’s what you mean,” I yell through the door and pull it open.

  He stands there looking like a cross between G.I. Joe and Ken and my lips spread into a smile without my permission or approval. It’s like my face has a mind of its own. The plaid untucked button up shirt, boot cut jeans, and the way the sun has given him an allover tan makes him complete and utter eye candy.

  “Hey, Lills,” he says and smiles.

  I find some words, and they all assemble into a squeaky, “Hi.” I fidget with the hem of my shirt and then run my hands down the side of my jeans. I feel like I haven’t dressed good enough.

  “You look good, Lilly, you look real good.”

  “You don’t look bad yourself. You forget your cowboy hat?”

  “No.” Uriah laughs and grabs my hand as he pulls me out the door. I still have my hand on the knob and the movement whiplashes the door shut with a smack. “Come on, I’m hungry.”

  The short ride to town lends to superficial talk. “This truck isn’t nearly as pretty in the daylight,” I say.

  “Better than walking,” replies Uriah.

  I raise my eyebrows and cut him a side look.

  “Okay, that applies to most people.” He leans forward as he’s driving and looks up at the clouds. “And, at least it’s dry, for when whatever that is, decides to sing.”

  I lean forward too and look up. “Yeah, guess so. Maybe it’s just a threat and we all just need to kneel and pray.”

  “I don’t need threats to kneel and pray.”

  “How do you know He’s talking to you? Maybe other people are deaf.”

  “You deaf?”

  “Nah, I got good hearing. I talk to Papa all the time,” I say and continue staring out of the windshield.

  “That’s not what you call your dad?”

  “No, it’s what I call Jesus.”

  “You call Jesus, Papa?”

  “Yeah, so.”

  Uriah seems to chew on that for a few moments. He looks at me. “Never heard Him called Papa before.”

  “Well, now you have.”

  “I thought you didn’t go to church.”

  “I don’t. I don’t need to go to church to talk to Papa.”

  “Have you been talking to Papa? Cause I’d think if you had you wouldn’t be here for the next six months,” Uriah says and stops the truck in front of the church.

  He’s thrown a dagger and it’s lodged in my throat. I swallow hard and look away. I’ve got two choices right now, stay in the truck and fight the tears or get out of the truck and pretend I didn’t hear him. I pick door number two and jump out of the truck.

  Uriah makes a mad dash out and joins me as I walk to the church. He laces his fingers in mine and I jerk my ha
nd away. I stop and turn him to face me. God help me, as cute as he is, I’m gonna set him straight here and now.

  “Listen, we haven’t talked in a long time. If you want to pick up where we left off, then fine, but we left off as friends and nothing more. You hear me, Uriah Pendleton?” My voice has reached an octave I never thought it capable.

  The smile that spreads across his face is warm and wonderful and I just yelled at the face that makes me all melty. “Okay, Lills, you set the rules and I’ll live by them until I can’t.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, doing my best to look menacing. Well, as menacing as a few hairs over five foot can look. “You’re dang right you will.”

  “Oh, is it a lover's quarrel already?” Misty’s voice drips anything but dew.

  Before I can say anything, Uriah steps in front of me and partially shields me with his body. “Misty, you go on now. This conversation’s not for you.”

  She glides up to him, her stupid face smiling. “Oh, Uriah, you know me. I’m just playing.”

  “You’re right, I do know you, and you do little in the way of playing. Now, the doors are that way, see yourself to’em.”

  Uriah guards me with his arms and turns as Misty walks past. I hide my face in his back. If only I was small enough to hide completely maybe Misty would just leave me alone once and for all.

  He turns to me, takes me by the shoulders and looks my face over. “You okay?”

  “Why does Misty hate me? What did I ever do to her?”

  “I don’t know, but you don’t mind her. Hear?”

  I take a deep breath and lean my forehead against him. He wraps those cannons around me, and I wish I hadn’t set him so straight after all. My iron clad will to keep him a friend is turning into aluminum foil by the time he lets me go.

  “Come on, I can smell something good. Can’t you?”

  I catch a whiff of something and my stomach says something like: eat a taco and die.

  Chapter Nine