Broken Girl

by Gretchen de La O

  A glimpse of . . .

  Strength.

  I grabbed my purse off my dresser, the crystal bowl which used to hold more condoms than anything else caught my eye and I saw the cluster of Blow Pops Shane gave me from several of our laundry dates. I grabbed a couple, tossed them into my purse and avoided the need to add anything else from that crystal bowl. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror behind the door, making double sure I was just conservative enough.

  “Ready, Rosie?”

  I nodded as I quickly swept my hands across the front of my skirt and grabbed a lightweight black knit cardigan from the rickety coatrack Sybil found down the street one night and decided to drag home. A twinge of sadness fluttered across my heart.

  Briggs held the apartment door open for me and did the same as we left the building. He was such a gentleman. Everything he did was protective and comforting, hurrying me across the street he pressed his palm against the small of my back and pulled the car door open, small gestures that most might overlook if not paying attention.

  “Thank you, Key.”

  “For wat?”

  “For being here for me.”

  He gave me a quick smile and a wink before he shut me into his car. All it took was that slight smile and that simple wink to reassure me that we were good. That we were going to make it through today together, as friends, and as family.

  Trusting . . .

  The drive to the cemetery started out quiet, until a pressure started building inside of me. It felt as if a vice was being tightened across my chest, pinning me down in a sticky leather seat poking me with fiery sharp needles up and down my spine, arms and legs. My skin flushed hot before sweat began to cool the raging heat thundering through my body. I tried to look out the window, count the people whose lives seemed so much better than mine. I tried to hold the voice in my head at bay hoping Briggs didn’t notice I was starting to have a panic attack.

  But the voice in my head knew when to strike. She knew when I was at my weakest. She was the same voice that dictated my moods when I couldn’t handle the stress of trying to be someone everyone else wanted me to be.

  Now, here we go again. Rose, when will you ever learn that whores like you ain’t worthy of grieving?

  ‘Yes I am.’ I answered her in my head.

  No, you’re not. Do you honestly believe Sybil’s family is gonna overlook you being there?

  ‘Maybe, I don’t know. I need to be there.’

  No you don’t. Oh, fuck, come on Rose, can’t you see, you’re the hooker-low-life-roommate that left the door unlocked so Dax could come in and kill her. It’s your fault she’s dead.

  ‘No, it’s not! It’s not my fault and you’re not real!’ The nine-year-old broken little girl deep inside me screamed back.

  Oh, but Rose, I am real and I’m really in your head. I’ve been with you forever, I know you best and now I’m here to help you remember your place. You aren’t worthy, never been, never will be.

  I pushed my hands up across my face. My skin and hairline damp from the perspiration pushing through my pores.

  Briggs noticed.

  “Rosie, you oka’?” He brushed his fingers across my hands, still cupping my face. I didn’t look up. This time the fucked up voice in my head was relentless.

  Isn’t that cute. You almost could have had him. I bet if you let him kill Dax, Sybil would be here. You shouldn’t have stopped Briggs from killing him. Sybil’s death wouldn’t have been for nothing. Oh, wait, it was for something, it took one more filthy, dirty whore off the street. You’ll always be a dirty broken girl who whores herself to feed the monster inside. No wonder Briggs or Shane don’t want you!

  “Shut up, shut up, just shut the fuck up,” I screamed at the top of my lungs into my hands as I swayed back and forth. I was trapped where I was. I couldn’t escape her. When she’d shown up before, I’d have a place to go, a motion I could do that would cause her to lose the grip she had in my head.

  Briggs stopped the car; my body jolted forward.

  “Wha’ the fuck?”

  Briggs’ voice carried and filled the car. He was demanding, almost like he was coming from a place of fear, a place he’d known for way too long.

  I hopped out of the car, pacing the dingy sidewalk riddled with yesterday’s trash.

  “I’m worthy, do you fucking hear me? I’m fucking worthy. You can’t break me anymore, I’m not that scared little girl anymore. You will not win! Do you hear me? YOU. WON’T. WIN!” I hollered into the gust of wind that kicked up and swirled around me. The chill of the wind coming off the bay spread across my face, loosening the grip the voice had in my head and as if the wind cleansed my soul of the wicked. Suddenly, the voice in my head was silent. And just like that I was left on the sidewalk clinging to the only thing I knew.

  When I lowered my eyes back down to Briggs, he was standing there, unmoved by my outburst. The look on his face told me he was familiar with the demon I was battling, as if in some intimate way the pain in my life was connected to his. He nodded, his body firm, tense, like he was ready to protect me. I blinked slowly, and nodded back, in an instant his arms were around me.

  “Shhh, you’ safe. I’m here. It’s over.”

  “I . . . I . . . I—”

  “Come on, Rosie gir’, get in the car.”

  Battling the need to be healed, I knew I was safe, packed away in the care of Briggs until he pulled into the Cypress Lawn Cemetery.

  AS BRIGGS PASSED through Daly City I recovered from the complete unraveling of my mind. The tick of my heart didn’t echo through my ears nearly as loud as it did just thirty minutes earlier and the knots through my shoulders relaxed once I leaned back on the headrest. Most of the time the badgering voice wins, but today, today it just couldn’t, I couldn’t let her win.

  Kean turned into Cypress Lawn Cemetery, prettified by a massive white marble archway and well kept rolling hills of manicured green lawns, suddenly I realized Sybil had been born into privilege. For some reason, I visualized Sybil being buried in a decrepit, unkempt, unmarked cemetery. Sure I grew up in San Francisco, and I knew we buried our dead in Colma, a town that had more real estate for the dead than the alive, but it had been very few and far between times that I actually went into a cemetery. My only point of reference was the ones in scary movies. Besides that, I’ve never actually seen someone buried in a cemetery, I didn’t even go to see my grandma buried.

  My skin was hot, the car had become stifling as we drove the narrow roads. I desperately wanted to peel the pain from every cell in my body and bury it in Sybil’s grave. Leave the last bit of expectation where it all started, tucked below the surface of who I was. Life would be so much easier if I was numb.

  Briggs pulled to the side as he scanned the sprawling lawn cluttered with a small group of people huddled around an open square grave. Suddenly, there wasn’t a moment to catch my breath or think about how I was going to react. All I had were tiny pieces of my own awareness that I was here and up there on those rolling hills across the narrow road was Sybil’s body motionless in a casket.

  I looked back at Briggs and watched him curl his bottom lip in between his teeth as he struggled to recognize any of the people dressed in black. My heart exploded into a hyper rhythm as I noticed him narrowing his eyes. I looked back up and saw Martie sitting behind a polished, dark wooden casket. Standing next to her was a minister, the Bible in one hand as he flicked a stick with holy water from the other. Finality flowed through my veins . . . done and over. It looked like the minister was setting her soul free.

  I kept watching Martie’s reaction. Call it morbid, but I wanted to see her grieve. Cry as hard as I did when I lost the only person who accepted me as family. But her reaction was unemotional, nothing, like the whole process of burying Sybil was extremely inconvenient. Hunched over, next to her was an older man with a crooked back. He was thin and drawn, looked like he was too fragile for his old worn bones to carry his body. He held Martie’s hand and the
hand of an equally frail woman seated on the other side of him. I assumed this was all that was left of Sybil’s family. Each of them carried the same stoic expression, as if they were burdened with a daughter and a sister who lost herself to a lifestyle choice that rattled them to their very core and spiked them through their hearts with ice-cold reserve. I know that people grieve in their own way, but these people looked like they were incapable of showing any form of compassion.

  I should be standing there grieving for Sybil, not them. Why did death have to be so cold? All death had to do was walk away and leave me to grieve. But death wasn’t simple, it was heartless. It gutted you and drained your veins until they were dry.

  I looked back over at Martie and watched as her demeanor changed. Her attention shifted to the grove of Cypress trees across the way. A glint caught in her eyes just about the same time a tiny smirk rolled across her face. I looked over following her gaze straight to the cause of her new-found expression.

  What.

  The.

  Fuck.

  As if God didn’t punish me enough, there he was, Shane. He had come here for Martie. Every broken piece of who I was shattered all over again. Forget the idea that I was willing or able to show my face now. There was no way I was going to go up there, look like a damn fool, in front of them. My goodbye, saved for only Sybil, will have to wait until she’s buried six feet under.

  “Let’s go, start up the car and head out. I don’t want to go over there. This was a big mistake Key, I shouldn’t have come.”

  “What are you talkin’ ‘bout? You and aye are goin’ up there.”

  “No, Briggs, really, I think I’ll just come back when nobody’s here. Less chance of a confrontation.”

  “Rosie, I ain’t leavin’. If you don’t want to go up there right now, we’ll wait until tey leave. Me and you ‘re gonna wait.”

  There was no way Briggs was going to let me win on this, he was just as stubborn as I was when it came to shit like this. So I just watched in agony as Martie slipped away from Sybil’s burial to go be with Shane.

  Briggs didn’t miss a beat.

  “Oh, Aye, sweet’art now I know why. Tat’s your beau,” he said as he tilted his head and thrust his chin out to the scene between Martie and Shane.

  “No, he’s not mine and I don’t wanna talk about it,” I answered.

  “Tat’s the guy! He’s the one that chased you through the hospit’l, aye?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “He’s the same guy me keeps seein’ down in the district, prowlin’ around,” he added.

  His words soaked into my head, but didn’t register right away. I wanted to argue with him, make him see that nothing made that man mine.

  “He manages a laundromat down there, he isn’t prowlin’ the Tenderloin. Besides, he’s got that!” I tossed my hands forward pointing to Martie, who has now successfully wrapped herself around Shane’s body.

  “I know exactly who that is. Look, that right there isn’t actions of a man who’s in love wit’ her. I’m tellin’ you, when he’s down in the belly of the Tenderloin, aye, sweet’art, tat lad is lookin’ to find you. He’s in love wit’ you.”

  “Now, I know you’ve lost it. I’m completely aware of the feelings that boy has for me, but trust me, it can never happen. Ever.”

  “Why? Give me one goot’ reason?” Briggs faced me, his eyes burned into my profile. I kept staring straight ahead, even if it was breaking what was left of me to watch her pull Shane over to Sybil’s grave.

  I took a deep breath, hoping to catch the courage that was seeping from my lungs before I glanced at Briggs.

  “Because of who I am, Key. I sell my body, to cheap-ass horny men. As much as I wish he’d be able to see past my scars, he won’t. And just like every time before, every moment I get some type of hope, it fucking fails me, and I’m crushed all over again. Trust me, it’s better this way.” My words pricked my skin just like they did the last time I said them. But it was the truth, it was me and I was it.

  I looked out over the rolling grassy hills and the scene playing out in front of me between Martie, her family and Shane.

  “We all have scars. You and me, our scars run deeper than most. Us two, we’re more alike than you care to admit. We keep pushin’ people away ‘cause we’re scared to let them see our weakness. Tat we actually have a heart and tat it’s lonely. I know you well, Rosie, I see me’self in you a lot. And the t’ing is, the only t’ing we’re gonna get from pushing people away, is tired. I’m tired Rosie, and I t’ink you are too. You deserve to be happy.”

  “Yeah, well, that right there, that ain’t my happy . . . that right there’s nothing but a broken heart, trust me.” I slipped my hand down the side of the passenger seat and pulled the lever, lowering the back of my seat so I didn’t have to watch Shane and Martie pierce what little dignity I had left. Maybe, I just wanted to cuddle with the humiliation as I clung to it like a child who carried around a security blanket, that way I wouldn’t forget how painful it was to love someone I couldn’t have.

  “You know somet’ing Rosie, I’ve pinned me pain across me chest me ‘ole life. Taken the bullets of sufferin’ like the best of them. In the middle of a war zone, me watched me brothers sacrifice everyt’ing they were. For w’at? So I could come back and waste me opportunity on being bitter while they be buried six feet under in the cold hard ground, dead for a country they loved? Shane doesn’t love that gir’ up there. He’s too busy fightin’ a war with the demons you’re not willin’ to give up.”

  Briggs’ words sliced me deep. He pinned me in a corner I’d been frightened of my whole life. He saw through me as if my skin was nothing but a thin veil I hid behind to stay safe. I was always a fuck ‘em and let ‘em go type of girl. Only let ‘em get enough from me so I didn’t have to give. Nothing ventured nothing gained. It was my best excuse and my worst reason. It was easier to placate my pain than it was to provoke anyone’s love.

  A pressure pushed hard against my chest, the guilt of giving up so easily robbed my breath. Now Kean Briggs was challenging me to pony up, live raw, be present, and give into my feelings for Shane. A roll of the dice in a gamble I’d always lost my whole life.

  “I’m not sure I can give up my demons, they’ve been with me for so long I don’t know who I am anymore without them.”

  “Ma’be it’s time you found out, who you really are.”

  “What if it’s too late?”

  “And, what if it’s not? Nothing is guaranteed, Rosie. We could drive outta here and be killed in a he’d on car crash. And go to Heaven, find me the Pearly Gates or crash into the fiery pits of Hell.” His accent again thickened with his intensity.

  “What’s your point, Key?”

  “Me point bein’ you can either be the woman sitting here contemplatin’ ‘bout to visit her best friend before they bury her forever, or you can grab your life by the short hairs and claim wat’s yours.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Damn right it is sweet’art, but you’re the stubborn gir’ who needs to swallow her pride and mend t’ings with that boy up there. ‘Cause I’m dun watching you throw your life away. I can’t stand me dreadful thoughts every time your number comes up on me phone.”

  “So the truth comes out. You aren’t as tough as you look.”

  “If that’s wat you believe, so be it. I’d rather be visitin’ you at a house, then watch you be buried in a place like this. You’re a tough gir’, no doubt in me mind, but if you keep doin’ what you’re doin’, you won’t be long for this world.”

  “If you keep telling all your clients to quit the business, you’ll be out of a job,” I quipped as I forced my seat back upright.

  “Well, Rosie, just call it a soft spot in me heart for you. It’s the only time I’ve said this to anyone, but that boy, well, he’s your ticket out of this life, me gir’. I think it’s high time you cashed it in.”

  Deep down, I knew he was right. It was obvious he was just tr
ying to protect me, but seeing that I’ve had to take care of myself my entire life I wasn’t going to let him think that he knew what was best for me.

  I looked out and watched Shane in his dark charcoal suit lean down and kiss the old woman on the cheek, before he gingerly consoled the old man next to her. Shane rested his palm on the man’s shoulder while they shook hands. A familiar gesture which appeared more intimate than the greeting of strangers. I observed Sybil’s parents, or what I assumed was Sybil’s parents lift their frail hands while they talked to him, and watched Shane as he comfortably consoled them. He was so sincere, and even though I couldn’t hear what they were saying to one another I noticed Shane’s expression was genuine and filled with compassion.

  “Well, I appreciate your concern, Briggs, I do, but this is my life, and what I do with it . . . well, that’s my business. Just tend to your stuff and I’ll tend to mine and I think it will be better that way.”

  “Aye, sweet’art. I’ve said me peace. You can sit here and lose your opportunity, havin’ a pity party for one, or you can get your arse out of the car and say a proper goodbye to Sybil. Either way it’s no skin off me teeth, it’s your choice,” he said as he patted my knee before he opened the driver’s side door and got out. He flung open the back driver’s side door, yanked his black dress coat from a hanger and pulled it on before he looked over at me. His eyes asking if I was going to be an arse or a friend.

  “I’m sorry Key, this wound’s pretty deep. I just can’t face him right now.”

  “Suit you’self.” He shut the back car door and I watched him meander up to Sybil’s open grave.

  I looked over and saw Shane consoling Martie, it was a dagger in my heart. I closed my eyes and wept.

  MY EYES WERE still closed as the tears drenched my lashes and betrayed me as I tried to stop the ungodly-ugly cry from taking over me. I figured I’d wait for Briggs to come back so we could just go, but he took forever. I knew he wouldn’t let me get out of here until I went up there and paid my respects to Sybil.