Broken Glass

by Tabitha Freeman

  “My fiancé died in a car crash about four months ago,” I told Conner quietly, avoiding his eyes. “He was sitting in the front passenger seat of the car and he took his seatbelt off to put his jacket on. He went out the front windshield and…and the tree…he landed in this big tree. He…the limbs actually went through him a-and killed him. I wasn’t there, but somehow…I don’t know how…I see it in my dreams…sometimes the whole accident, and sometimes just the tree.”

  It was silent for a moment, but it wasn’t like the silence before. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable.

  “So that’s the tree, then,” he said in a gentle tone, nodding at the sketch. I nodded.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “That’s it.”

  “Well, you know,” he said suddenly. “If you—may I see this pencil?” I handed him my pencil.

  “Sometimes art is about what’s not literal,” he said, drawing something. “Sometimes, it’s about what you can’t see…” He lightly sketched on my picture for a moment before holding it up so I could see. There were now detailed dewdrops and fresh leaves on the tree. There were also stars in the sky.

  “Maybe if you don’t draw it exactly how it is,” Conner suggested, softly, his eyes meeting mine. “And if you change how it’s ‘supposed’ to look, then you can change the way you dream about it…and then you’ll see it as something else, something…happy.” He handed the sketch back to me and suddenly, there was this heavy feeling in my stomach. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from his…my head was spinning and that feeling in the pit of my stomach was scaring me to death.

  “Ava?”

  We both jumped at the sound of Henry’s voice at the door.

  “Oh, hey, Henry,” I said, and Conner immediately stood up.

  “Uh, sorry, am I interrupting something?” Henry asked, and I saw a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

  “Oh, no!” Conner said, rather too quickly. “Just, erm, chatting with Ava.” I saw a look of bashfulness cross over his face. “Just making my rounds for my internship. You’ll be on the rounds, too!”

  “I can come back,” Henry offered.

  “No, that’s fine,” Conner said, glancing back at me. “I’ve got to get going, anyhow. See you.” And he was gone.

  Henry turned back to me.

  “What was that about?” he asked, a grin breaking on his face then.

  “Nothing!” I grumbled, getting to my feet. “We were just talking about my drawing.”

  “What drawing?” Henry walked up to me.

  “Nothing,” I said, putting the sketch under my bed. “Anyway, quit looking at me like that.”

  “Like what?” he asked.

  “Like I’m guilty of something!” I rolled my eyes. He laughed.

  “Hmmm,” he smiled. “Maybe you are. I still think someone’s got a little crush on the shrink’s son…”

  “Whatever,” I sighed. “What’d you come in here for?”

  “Testy, testy!” He held up his hands in defense. “I just wanted to see what you thought about doing some decorating for the New Year’s Eve party.”

  “Why would I want to do that?” I asked.

  “Well, I just figured Julianne was probably going to make us all be involved somehow,” he said. “And she’s going to bring it up in the meeting this afternoon, so we might as well pick something we like to do.”

  “What do you want to do?” I asked him. “Decorate?”

  “I can deal with the streamers and balloons and all that junk,” he admitted. “It’s easy enough. You want to go in on it with me?”

  “Sure,” I shrugged. “I guess it is the easiest thing.”

  “And it might be fun?” he suggested. I nodded and gave him a small smile.

  “Sure,” I replied.

  Henry had guessed right. At the group session later that day, we were each assigned different jobs. Henry and I were in charge of decorations, while Shakespeare got stuck mixing music tapes with Aurelia and Princess Golden.

  “I just can’t seem to get away from her,” Shakespeare grumbled under his breath to Henry after the party tasks were announced. Aurelia gave him a wink and blew him a kiss.

  “I didn’t see that handsome son of Julianne’s in the group session today,” Henry pointed out later that evening, as he, Shakespeare, and I sat in my room playing cards. I gave him a look.

  “What’s that about?” Shakespeare asked, looking back and forth between Henry and me.

  “Nothing,” I rolled my eyes. “Henry thinks I have an infatuation with Conner…which I definitely do not!”

  “You said it, not me,” Henry grinned. “Oh, c’mon, Ava, what’s so bad about admitting that he’s a good looking guy?”

  “There’s not,” I sighed.

  “Well then just admit you think he is and I’ll stop bugging you,” Henry’s grin widened.

  “Oh, goodness!” I snapped. “Fine, he’s an all right looking guy, okay? Happy now?”

  They both were laughing too hard to notice the scowl on my face.

  That Saturday was our monthly trip out. Juliette decided on going to the local mall for a lovely food court dinner and to shop for the New Year’s Eve party. We all piled in the Craneville van around four that afternoon and I was surprised when Conner Walker climbed in as well. Henry snickered and I shot him a look. I looked out the window as we drove off, purposely avoiding any sort of eye contact with Conner. My stomach was turning over all of the sudden.

  When we got to the mall, we were allowed to walk around for an hour and then meet back at the food court for dinner. We all had tracking sensor bracelets bound around our wrists, so anybody’s plan to run for it would’ve been a waste.

  “Ava, do you wanna go look for party stuff?” Henry asked me.

  “I think I’ll just walk around by myself for a while,” I told him. “You and Shakespeare have fun. I’ll see you in an hour.”

  It was nice to be able to walk around outside of the confines of Craneville. Flashbacks of good times were in my mind as my eyes browsed through the display windows and the people walking around. How carefree they all were. None of them had probably ever been through tragedy. I sat down on a bench by the big mall fountain and began to people-watch. How I envied them and their normal world. It was so unfair. So unfair that some of the couples I saw would be together forever, that they would never suffer such a grieving loss like I had.

  “Ava.”

  I looked up and saw Conner’s bright smile.

  “May I sit?” he asked, nodding toward the empty space beside me on the bench.

  “Sure,” I said, scooting over a little. He sat down, only inches away from me. He smelled amazing and the dark blue button up shirt he was wearing made his green eyes almost look turquoise.

  “What are you doing?” he asked me.

  “Just watching people,” I answered, looking off again. “I’m jealous, you know.”

  “Jealous?” he asked. “Why is that?”

  “Life is just unfair,” I shrugged. “I miss being in a normal world, not knowing anything about grief or loss or misery. I can never get that naivety back.”

  Conner was quiet for a moment.

  “Everyone suffers something great in their lifetime,” he said, finally. “Even though no two people suffer exactly the same grief, they both still suffer. That’s just life. That’s why it’s so hard. If it were easy, it wouldn’t be worth living, would it?”

  “What have you ever suffered?” I asked him, dryly, allowing myself to look at him.

  “My father has cancer,” he said, in a quiet voice. “He’s dying.”

  “Oh, God, I‘m so sorry,” I said, reaching out to touch his arm. It was an instinct and I didn’t realize what I had done until he looked over at me quickly, surprise on his face. I jerked my hand back almost immediately. I looked away, embarrassed.

  “He’s always been larger than life,” Conner said, and it was as if I hadn’t touched him. “But this is something he cannot conquer. And it changes every
thing. My mother will be all alone. I’ll have to change around everything I’ve ever planned for my own life so that I can be there for her. I’m not complaining, but it’s just a slap in the face. What do you do when you know such a suffering is inevitable, but you can’t do anything about it? You just have to stand by and watch it happen.”

  “Do you think it’s better to be blindsided?” I asked him. “I mean, at least you’re prepared for the worst…at least you’re prepared to lose everything.”

  He looked at me thoughtfully.

  “Would you have rather known it was coming?” he asked me then. “Your fiancé’s death? Wouldn’t that have changed things for you?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “How would that have changed things?”

  “Your whole outlook on things would’ve been different,” he replied. “You would’ve acted differently towards him…maybe you would’ve clung to every moment you knew you had left. Or maybe you would’ve slowly distanced yourself so things would be easier after he died.”

  I didn’t say anything. I watched the people in the mall pass by us for a moment. My eyes caught on an elderly couple holding hands and laughing as they made their way into a store.

  “What happens when the one you’re supposed to be with forever dies?” I spoke up then. “What do you do?”

  Conner looked at me thoughtfully. His green eyes were bright and searching. I let my eyes meet his, immediately regretting it.

  “Maybe you weren’t supposed to be with him forever after all,” Conner said softly, and I looked down at my hands in my lap.

  “That’s just not true,” I whispered, swallowing the sudden lump forming in my throat. “There was never anybody else.”

  “You know,” he said, slowly. “I believe in a higher entity…something bigger than us. And I believe that whatever that entity may be, it wouldn’t put us on this earth to be alone.”

  “So you’re saying that God is just messing with me?” I asked him, tartly. He shrugged.

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying,” he sighed. “It’s just…life on earth isn’t meant to be easy. Trials and tribulations and bouts of complete mourning are part of what we go through as human beings. Some people find the one person they’re supposed to be with right away and their toils come in other parts of life. Then there are people like you who discover this type of tragedy all too soon.”

  I didn’t reply, so he went on.

  “I know it’s hard to think this now, Ava, but maybe he wasn’t the one you were supposed to be with. Maybe there’s someone else for you.”

  “So you believe that when your father dies, there’s someone else out there for your mother?” I asked him, letting my eyes meet his once again. I could tell by the sudden change of expression on his face that he hadn’t been expecting this remark. I regretted saying it immediately, knowing I’d treaded where I shouldn’t.

  Surprisingly, he wasn’t offended by this, and he answered me right away.

  “Perhaps,” was all he said, with a small smile. “I hope for that much, anyway.”

  I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. Why had I said such a hurtful thing to him? I’d had no right. He’d probably never speak to me again after this.

  “Well, on a lighter note,” he spoke up again, chuckling. “I hear you’ll be decorating for the New Year’s Eve party. Are you excited?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “What?” he asked, puzzled.

  “Sorry,” I said, smiling. “It’s just that was such a lame attempt to start polite conversation after I said something totally inappropriate to you.”

  He laughed then, too.

  “Oh, it wasn’t too terribly inappropriate,” he waved his hand dismissively. “You’re crazy, anyway.”

  I just looked at him and my mouth dropped open.

  “Are you even allowed to say that to me?!” I asked, but I couldn’t help laughing. He shrugged with a sideways grin on his face.

  “Probably not,” he answered. “But I figured you’d let it slide this time after saying something so inappropriate.”

  I felt myself turn red.

  “Yeah, I really am sorry about that,” I apologized. “For what it’s worth, even if your dad doesn’t make it through this, I hope your mom’s heart can be healed by someone else.”

  “Well, for what it’s worth,” he sighed, his eyes meeting mine once again. “I hope your heart will also be healed…and soon.”

  I couldn’t reply. Instead, I just relaxed back against the bench and we sat there in a comfortable silence until it was time to go back to the food court and meet the others.

  18.

  “So what did you two talk about?” Henry asked me, later that night as we sat in his room before lights out. I shrugged.

  “Just stuff,” I replied. “Nothing big.”

  “Ava Darton,” Henry rolled his eyes. “I had to get all the decorations by myself tonight because you were so distracted by the future Dr. Walker. I deserve a little embellishment!”

  “We didn’t really talk too much,” I answered with a heavy sigh. “Just about his thoughts on Tyson’s death and he told me some stuff about his father.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Henry said. “And what are his thoughts on Tyson?”

  “He thinks that maybe Tyson wasn’t the one I was supposed to be with forever,” I replied. “He thinks it was something like a stepping stone in my life until I find the one I’m supposed to be with. A load of crap, pretty much.”

  “I don’t know, Ava,” Henry was smiling. “I pretty much really like that theory…plus he’s cute.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” I laughed.

  “Admit it,” Henry grinned. “You’ve got a crush on him.”

  “Whatever,” I mumbled for the millionth time, getting to my feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  For the next few weeks, I began to see a lot of Conner Walker. At first, I just thought I was part of his interning routines, however, I couldn’t help but wonder if he made visitations with the other patients as frequently as he did me. I was a little nervous that Shakespeare or Henry would take notice of this, so I kept very careful to not mention anything at all about our visits with each other.

  I was able to talk about almost anything with Conner and I surprised myself at the instant trust I formed. He suggested we take walks outside or out and about the ward, but I was quick to reject this idea. I didn’t want anyone forming wrong opinions of our friendship.

  He really was great company. He even brought me a big cup of that delicious chocolate milk he made every time he came for a visit. I found myself becoming fonder and fonder of him. But in what way, I wasn’t sure. It scared me that the feeling in the pit of my stomach wouldn’t go away when he was around.

  “You know, I’m really not that interesting of a patient,” I said to him, after a month of consecutive visits. “It won’t hurt my feelings if you want to evaluate other people more than me.” He was sitting in a chair on the opposite end of the room, where he always sat, while I resided in the floor with my back up against the bed, facing him.

  “And who, exactly, do you think is crazier than you?” he teased, with a grin playing at the corner of his lips. I shrugged.

  “Well, Aurelia is the first one that comes to mind,” I smiled slightly. “I’m surprised she hasn’t bugged me in like a week.”

  “Ah, she only does it because she envies you,” he said. I laughed.

  “Why on earth would she possibly envy me?” I asked him.

  “You’ve got a big hope on getting better and getting out of here someday,” Conner replied. “I think Aurelia knows she’s farther away from being better than you are.”

  “Ha,” I looked away from him. “Getting better…what’s the use? There’s nothing waiting for me out there anyway.”

  “What about your mother?” he asked. “Don’t you think she’s miserable with you in here?”

  “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a mil
lion times,” I reminded him. “I haven’t seen her in a couple months. She could care less about me.”

  “You barely mention her to me, I’ve noticed,” he said, quietly. I shrugged.

  “What’s the use?” I replied. “I don’t remember her.”

  “How sad,” Conner’s voice was soft. “You don’t remember the woman who gave you life, but you can’t forget someone you only knew for, what, three years?”

  I could tell by the look on his face that he instantly realized that he’d really crossed the line with that comment.

  “I think you should leave,” I told him, darkly. “I’m tired. I think I’ll take a nap.”

  His face was slightly red and he let his head droop, causing a dark curl to fall over his forehead.

  “Ava,” he said, softly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “I’m tired,” I said again, still angry with him. “Go psychoanalyze someone else for once.”

  He just sat there a moment, and I could feel his eyes on me, though I refused to look at him. Finally, without another word, he got up and left my room. A lump formed suddenly in my throat and my eyes began to sting with hot tears. I realized then why I was so angry with Conner. It wasn’t because what he’d said had been inappropriate…it was because it’d been completely and utterly true.

  Suddenly, my door opened again and I was surprised to see Conner walk back in.

  “I take my apology back,” he said, a little breathlessly.

  “What?” I asked, confused.

  “I take it back,” he repeated, his bright green eyes locking on mine. “I’m not sorry I said that to you about Tyson. For the last four weeks, I’ve been coming to see you every day, sometimes more than once. And 95% of everything you say goes back to that boy. It’s time someone told you the truth.”