Broken Glass

by Tabitha Freeman

“The truth?” I frowned, standing up. “What are you talking about?”

  “The truth is, I don’t give a damn about Tyson Andrews,” he said. “I have been patient and quiet…I let you rant incessantly about him day in and day out—”

  “Well, no one asked you to come here every day,” I interrupted him. “If you don’t like it, then just don’t do your intern evaluating bullshit on me anymore!”

  “That other 5% of the time,” he went on, ignoring my outburst. “I see Ava Darton…and you know what? She’s not sick. She’s not crazy. She’s an absolutely wonderful woman…and she’s lost right now, but she’s strong enough to find her way again.”

  I just stared at him.

  “You may talk to my mother about Tyson Andrews and you may talk to every other patient who’ll listen in this ward about Tyson Andrews,” he continued, his tone softening just a bit. “But not with me, not anymore. 95% of the time, I expect to see only Ava Darton.”

  “Who do you think you are?” I asked him, huffily. “You’re not my therapist! If you don’t like what I have to say, then go bother somebody else!”

  He took a few steps closer, so that he was only inches away from me. I realized then how much taller he was than me. His slender frame towered over me and the faint smell of his cologne surrounded me. I couldn’t breathe.

  “You can expect that I will be here when I do my rounds every day,” he murmured. “That’s part of my internship and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  I looked up at him, allowing my eyes to meet his hard stare. He was challenging me.

  “All I have to do is tell your mother that I don’t want you coming to see me,” I hissed, rising to his challenge. I was surprised when a smirk fell upon his lips. He leaned forward suddenly, and I was sure my heart had stopped.

  “You do that then, Ava,” he whispered, his warm breath on my face. “Tell her.”

  Then, he turned and walked out of the room again.

  I stood there for what seemed like hours, trying to get my heart back into normal rhythm.

  I had to tell someone about Conner. So, later that evening, I wrote Channing a letter. I told her, in great detail, about everything that had gone on the last few weeks. Then I proceeded to ask her if she thought this friendship I was forming with Conner was a good idea. I hoped that she’d write me back immediately. I practically ran to the nurse’s station and asked Josephine if she could mail out my letter as soon as possible. She went right away and I was relieved. Hopefully, Channing would respond to my letter instantly and tell me everything I expected…that it was not a good idea to talk to Conner so much and that I should tell Julianne to have him banned from my room during his internship. I had the right mind to go ahead and do it, just to spite him for trying to challenge me earlier. But I knew never seeing or talking to him again was a thought I dared not visit. In truth, I didn’t know what I wanted.

  I woke up the next morning in a strange mood. When I ate breakfast with Henry and Shakespeare, I barely said three words, and they took notice.

  “What’s wrong with you this morning?” Shakespeare asked me. I shrugged, pushing my eggs around my plate.

  “I guess it’s my meds,” I lied. “I feel crappy.”

  “Why don’t you take it easy today?” Henry suggested. “We can work on the decorations tomorrow.”

  “Oh, that’s right!” I groaned. “I’m sorry, Henry, I forgot we were doing that today.”

  “It’s really okay,” he smiled. “The party really isn’t for another week and a half. We’ve got time.”

  “Hey, we’re supposed to dress up,” Shakespeare said. “What are you guys wearing?”

  “Josephine’s letting me borrow one of her son’s suits,” Henry replied.

  “Yeah, I think my uncle’s bringing me my tux from junior prom,” Shakespeare grinned. “Hopefully it still fits.”

  “What are you wearing, Ava?” Henry asked. “Any old prom dresses?”

  “I hadn’t even thought about it,” I admitted. “Maybe I’ll talk to my mom between now and then…anyway, I think I’m going to go to my room and lie down. I’ll see you guys later.”

  No sooner had a lay down in my bed, there was a knock on my door. I knew who it was before he even came into the room.

  “Hey,” Conner said, pleasantly. My eyes were open, but I didn’t move my head to look at him.

  “Hey,” I replied, in a quiet voice.

  “Are you sick?” he asked, walking over to my bed. I glanced up at him. He was brightly dressed today in a lime green shirt that hurt my eyes.

  “No,” I sighed, uncurling from the fetal position and stretching out on my back.

  “Then what’s wrong with you?” he asked me, frowning. He reached out and lay his hand on my forehead. I shivered suddenly, his touch sending chills through my body.

  “Hmmm,” he said, moving his hand away. “You don’t have a fever, but you’re really flushed.”

  I bit my bottom lip, afraid I would cry any moment.

  “Ava, what is it?” he was concerned now and sat down on the bed beside me. I hesitated, wondering if I should answer him.

  “I didn’t dream about Tyson last night,” I said finally, not looking at him. He didn’t reply.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I know you don’t want to hear any more about him…but I’ve never gone a night since he died without seeing him in my sleep, whether it be a dream or a nightmare. But last night, I just slept.”

  I waited for him to rip into me again for saying Tyson’s name, but instead, he reached out and placed his warm hand over mine.

  “You know, I loved a girl once,” he said, his voice so low that I could barely hear him. “Her name was Drita. She was Italian…very beautiful. One day, she just up and ran off with some rich Italian mobster guy and eloped. I saw her in my dreams every single night for a year. But then, suddenly, it just stopped.”

  “Why?” I asked him, sitting up. “Why do you think it stopped?”

  “My father was diagnosed with cancer,” he said, slowly. “And I saw my mother just crumble. That’s when I realized I wasn’t the only person in the world who’d had his heart broken…and I knew my heart was never as broken as my mother’s was when she found out her husband was dying.”

  I hurt for him in that moment, forgetting all about my own heartache. I realized our hands were still touching and I wrapped my fingers around his, giving a gentle squeeze.

  He looked up at me, his eyes locking with mine yet again. Why was this happening? Why was it so easy for me to let him in? It wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right.

  I moved my hand from his and looked away. I couldn’t let him in any further. It had to stop.

  “Why do you think you didn’t dream about him?” Conner asked me, very quietly. I didn’t answer him. I didn’t answer him because I knew why. It wasn’t that I hadn’t dreamed at all…it was just that I’d dreamed about someone else besides Tyson and my soul was overridden with guilt. I knew by the look on his face that Conner knew. He knew it’d been him in my dream instead of my lost love.

  But he didn’t push it. Instead, he got up from the bed and walked over to the door.

  “I can’t stay long today, Ava,” he sighed. “I’ve got to sit in on a sanity evaluation upstairs in one of the tough wards. I’ll probably be stuck up there all day.”

  “Well, I’ll probably end up having to work on decorations for the New Year’s party with Henry,” I rolled my eyes. “At least you get to sit in on something interesting.”

  He smiled, the dimples cutting deeply into his cheeks.

  “See you later, Ava,” he winked and left the room.

  I put my hand to my face and discovered that my cheeks were hot. I lay back down on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. What was happening to me?

  I didn’t see Conner for the next two days. I tried to busy myself with working on decorations with Henry, but it didn’t do much good. Channing hadn’t written me a letter back, either. I was an
tsy all the way around.

  I wanted so badly to casually ask Julianne in our therapy sessions where Conner was, but I knew I couldn’t. She’d suspect something.

  I was pleasantly surprised that second day of not seeing Conner when Julianne told me I had a visitor. I expected my mother to be sitting in the lobby area when I walked out there, but instead, I saw Channing standing there, beaming.

  “Channing!” I grinned, running to her and throwing my arms around her.

  “Whoa!” she laughed. “So you miss me, huh?” I pulled away and looked at her.

  “You have no idea,” I was smiling from ear to ear. “Gosh, you look so great! You’re practically glowing! What are you doing here? Did you get my letter?” She did look wonderful, much more so than I would have ever expected. Her hair was fuller, longer, and there was this healthy flush about her cheeks. Maybe the real world wasn’t as bad as she’d made it out to be.

  She smiled and we both sat down on one of the sofas. She pulled a duffle bag off the floor and placed it in her lap.

  “That’s why I’m here,” she said. “And I brought you something.” She unzipped the bag and pulled out a bundle of baby pink silk fabric.

  “What is it?” I asked her and she laughed again.

  “It’s a dress,” she replied. “For the New Year’s Eve party. I figured you didn’t have one.” She unfolded it and laid it out for me to see. It was strapless and looked to be floor-length with glittering silver thread sewn perfectly into the silk.

  “It’s beautiful!” I exclaimed, touching it gingerly.

  “I have to give it to Julianne,” she frowned, putting it back in the bag. “She’s holding onto everyone’s outfit until the party since it’s against the rules to have it in your room.”

  “Channing, it’s gorgeous,” I whispered. “Thank you so much. Are you coming to the party?”

  “I’ve been invited,” she smiled. “Maybe. I’m not sure yet.”

  “That’d be great if you came,” I told her. “It’d definitely be more fun with a sane person there.” She giggled.

  “Not sure if I will ever fit into that category again,” she sighed. “But anyway, I got your letter. You wanna take a walk outside where we can have some privacy?”

  “Sure,” I nodded.

  “Maybe I won’t have to fix this situation after all,” I started the conversation once we were outside. “I haven’t seen Conner in two days. He’s just disappeared.”

  Channing gave me a look.

  “What do you mean ‘fix the situation’?” she asked. “What’s there to fix?”

  “Surely you read my letter?” I frowned.

  “Yeah,” she nodded. “But there was nothing in that letter suggesting that you needed to ‘fix’ anything.”

  “It’s wrong to have any kind of friendship with him,” I said. “Isn’t that what you’re thinking, too?” She laughed.

  “No,” she answered. “I was thinking the opposite!”

  “Really?” I was surprised.

  “Did you think I was going to tell you to just drop him like a bad habit?” she asked.

  “Maybe?” I replied. “Why not? It seems like the most sensible thing to do.”

  “And why is that?” she asked me. “He may be the best thing that ever happened to you, Ava.”

  “What do you mean?” I was taken off guard by her comment.

  “You know, you didn’t mention Tyson once in your letter to me,” she pointed out, her voice gentle. I looked down at my feet.

  “Oh, I’m sure he’s in there somewhere,” I mumbled.

  “No,” she said. “Not once. It’s Conner from front to back.”

  I didn’t reply.

  “You’re falling in love with him,” she spoke up after a moment’s silence. I looked over at her quickly.

  “What!” I exclaimed. “No way. You’ve got it all wrong. No, no, no.”

  “Okay,” she said, slowly. “What have you two been talking about the last month?”

  “Lots of things,” I told her. “Tyson, of course, college, high school, hobbies…that kind of thing. Things we like, things we like to do…just typical stuff you talk about to a shrink.”

  “Does Julianne know about the time when you were in junior high school and you pushed a girl into a swimming pool because she was making fun of your bathing suit?” Channing asked me, abruptly.

  “No,” I answered. “Why?”

  “Does your mom know about that?” She asked.

  “No. Why?”

  “Did you ever tell Tyson about that?”

  “I don’t think so. Why are you asking?”

  “Because in the letter you wrote to me, you told me that was one of the things you told Conner.”

  I knew where she was going with this and I didn’t like it, so I wasn’t about to let her finish making her point.

  “It’s not a big deal,” I said, rather too quickly. “It’s just one of those random things, like what your favorite color is. It’s not important.”

  “Sure it is,” Channing argued. “And for whatever reason, that’s just another thing that you’re able to share with him that you never shared with anyone else.”

  “I’ll never love anyone but Tyson,” I told her, firmly. “You know that.”

  “Only if you never let yourself love anyone else,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re falling in love with Conner Walker. You know you are.”

  “Whatever,” I grumbled. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It’s ridiculous. How’s life outside of Craneville?”

  “Oh, just dandy,” she laughed at the sudden change in subject. “One day at a time, I guess. Everyone out there still looks at me like I’m crazy, you know? But maybe I am…”

  “Have you seen Aurelia since you’ve been here?” I asked her.

  “No, actually,” she answered. “But I plan on it. How is she doing? Still as annoying as ever?”

  “Surprisingly, no,” I said. “She hasn’t spoken to me in a couple of weeks. I haven’t seen her around too much. It’s odd. Don’t know what’s got into her.”

  “Hmm,” was all Channing said, but by the look on her face, I could tell she knew something she wasn’t telling me.

  “What is it?” I asked her. She shook her head.

  “Oh, nothing,” she sighed. “I just worry about her sometimes. I know she’s been getting letters and phone calls from Sam. That’s definitely not a good thing…that’s what drove her over the deep end before.”

  “Yeah, I remember you telling me that,” I said. “But she should know he’ll just screw her over again. It’s her own fault for letting him do it.”

  “It’s hard to let go when you’re so in love with someone, though,” Channing pointed out. “You should know that better than anyone, Ava.”

  I didn’t reply. I was embarrassed for judging Aurelia so easily, no matter how much I disliked her.

  Channing and I walked in silence for a little while, until I finally looked over at her, with a smile and said,

  “I’m glad you came.”

  “Me, too.”

  19.

  “What’s gotten into you lately?” Henry asked me, as we wound brightly colored streamers around the activities room later that evening.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked him, with a heavy sigh.

  “You know what I’m talking about, Ava Darton,” he replied, dryly. “You’ve been moping around this place for the last couple of days, and frankly, it’s making me…crazy.” I looked at him and he threw his head back, letting out a loud laugh.

  “I’m glad you can amuse yourself so easily,” I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Those crazy jokes never get old, do they?” he chuckled. “Anyway, answer my question. Why are you acting all depressed?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I answered him with a voice dripping in sarcasm. “My fiancé died a while back, I tried to kill myself three times, and I haven’t seen my mother in months. There are just a few little reasons to be�
�shall we say, under the weather?”

  I was surprised when he laughed again.

  “It’s because of the shrink’s son, isn’t it?” he acted as though I hadn’t just delivered an awkward and extremely tragic monologue. I didn’t answer him, but instead busied myself with the streamers.

  “Fine,” Henry sighed. “We’ll talk about it when you decide not to be so stubborn. I got to see Channing for a second today.”

  “Yeah, I took a walk with her,” I smiled. “It was really good to see her. She brought me a dress for the party.”

  “Oh yeah?” he replied. “I’m excited! I get to see my little Ava all dressed up! It’ll be just like prom all over again! Say, are we supposed to have dates, too?”

  “I don’t know,” I giggled. “I wouldn’t think so. We’re crazies, not high school seniors.”

  “Well, if I find out we’re supposed to, I’ll have to get to you before Shakespeare,” Henry said, matter-of-factly. “Or the shrink’s son.”

  I shot him a glare.

  “Why do you say that?” my tone was severe.

  “Both men are crazy for you,” Henry shrugged. “And you know it.”

  “Shakespeare is not,” I argued. “He’s just…you just don’t understand. He just needs a female figure in his life. He’s just so gorgeous physically that every female presence in his life sees him just as that—not as a person. He just needs someone around him that can understand him as a person, not just as a man.”

  “Sounds like you two are soul mates,” Henry replied, lightly. I rolled my eyes.

  “Shut up,” I grumbled.

  “So what about Conner Walker, then?” Henry asked me. “You didn’t argue about him being crazy for you.”

  “That goes without saying,” I snapped. “The last thing Conner Walker would ever put on his plate is to be crazy about someone who’s…well, crazy.”

  The door opened then and my heart stopped when I looked over to see who’d walked in.