“Whoa, little one. What did we discuss?”
“Not to jump on JayJay.”
“Exactly.” The moment Mom let her go she came smacking into my leg, clutching it furiously. “Reece!”
I wobbled on my crutches, biting down against the pain and ruffled her hair. Then I leaned over and kissed her head.
“Missed you, JayJay.” Her dark eyes swelled with tears, and her lips trembled with emotion.
“I’ve missed you to the moon and back.” It was a little saying we had with each other. I nuzzled her a little more before straightening up.
Behind my family stood kids from my school, my friends, Savannah, Jason, Adam, Chloe, and my entire cheerleading squad. Also, family friends, and some of our neighbors were here. They all smiled with too much teeth and earnest eyes, looking as awkward as I felt. They waited for me to talk first.
I took a breath and forced myself to look up at everyone. “Hey, guys. Thank you for coming. It means a lot to me.” The lie fell from my mouth.
A steady stream of people hugged me and smiled at me. I said either thank you or I’m good a dozen times over. I was a robot, my real emotions locked way down. No one actually wanted to hear the truth.
I was alive and walking. Sort of. I needed to focus on that.
It was a little chilly, but Grandpa T had the barbeque going out back laden with hamburgers. Drinks, snacks, and condiments were spread over the kitchen counter and dinner table. Music played softly from the TV. People milled around talking. My school friends quickly grouped around the sofas, eating and drinking, no longer paying any attention to me.
After a bit, exhaustion drained me, and I snuck off to my room to escape the parade of people and sympathy. I timidly opened my bedroom door as if I were a visitor, dropping my crutches against the wall. Mom said she’d only gone in to grab some clothes and personal items for me. I expected to see clothes flung over my bed, a whisper, a ghost, left of the night I went to the party with Colton.
But it was spotless. Like Grandma Nessa spotless.
She couldn’t help herself. Growing up with her had never been relaxing, unlike Grandma Penny, who encouraged me to be a kid and get messy. Grandma Nessa was a neat freak and always had her house spotless.
My fingertips brushed along my bedspread. The soft duvet was fluffed and neat. At first glance everything looked as it had before, books on the desk, jewelry boxes, knickknacks, and pictures...
Then I realized what was missing.
My dresser had been filled with pictures of cheerleading competitions and Colton. My favorite one was of us kissing the night he won state championship, the entire team cheering around us. Gone.
I limped out, ignoring the shooting pain in my legs. “Where are they?” I bellowed the moment I hit the living room. The entire room went silent, all turning to me. “What did you do with them?”
Mom moved toward me first. “What, JayJay?”
“Where did you hide them?” I demanded, anger flaming my throat. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
“Hey, calm down.” Mom rubbed my arm as if I were mentally ill. I only screamed louder.
“The pictures! You think taking the pictures of Colton away is going to help? Like if you remove him then he never existed? I would simply forget?” My voice was high and shaky. “I want them now!”
Grandma Nessa rushed from the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I thought it would be better if they weren’t there. If the reminder wasn’t right in front of you.”
“Why? You think this is a simple as out of sight, out of mind? Merely taking the pictures away would take away my pain?” Tears filled my eyes, but I held them back. She thought she was helping, but sometimes I felt older people didn’t think younger people experienced real pain or love. As though we could easily rebound and move on.
“Shhh, it’s okay.” Mom spoke slowly and quietly. They were not used to seeing me angry or vocal. Ever. “She thought she was helping. Grandma Nessa will put them back.”
I took a breath, my gaze roving over the room. Everyone stared. All my friends on the sofa gaped at me wide-eyed, glancing at each other with a she’s losing it look.
Grandma went to the cupboard in the hall and brought out the pictures and proceeded to my room. I followed behind, the gawking silence burning into the back of my neck.
Mom helped me to my room. Grandma Nessa was already placing the photos back on my dresser. “There. Exactly where they were before.” She fretted with their placement. “I’m sorry. I never meant to upset you.”
“I know.” I stared at the framed candid shots.
Gramma Nessa came over and gave me a squeeze.
I suddenly felt embarrassed for my outburst. It was so unlike me. “Can I have a moment?”
Mom nodded, then kissed my head. They both swiftly left.
I made my way across the room, standing before my dresser. My hand reached out, trailing over Colton’s face. His smile. His bright blue eyes. His dimple.
I clasped the frame to my chest. It was like a semi-truck unloaded pounds of wet concrete on top of me. My knees buckled and I slumped to the floor with a sob, holding the picture to my heart.
I understood intellectually Colton was dead, but the hospital was a strange limbo where I didn’t have to accept the truth, where real life stayed outside. A bubble. Being home thrust me back into reality, where I could no longer deny or push aside life while I healed.
He was gone. Forever.
Now that the pictures were back in place, I found I no longer wanted them there. Looking at them was like shredding my heart with glass. But at the same time, if anyone tried to take them away, I would attack them like a wild animal. Protecting him. Us.
A choked cry broke free. The body could heal, but the vast emptiness inside was beyond anything I could mend. It was too immense. A black hole. People could sympathize but could not understand. They didn’t like sadness; they wanted to move on and not talk about it. My sadness and I were one.
Music from the living room ventured into my room, snippets of laughter and talking mingled around. It made me aware I was even more like an alien. A foreigner in my body. Alone. The noise suddenly became louder, the whoosh of my door opening.
“JayJay?” My sister’s voice sounded scared and unsure.
I lifted my head. Once she saw my eyes, she ran to me. Her arms wrapped tightly around my neck.
“Don’t be sad, JayJay.” My heart almost burst as this little five-year-old comforted me. “I loooove you.”
“I love you too.” I drew her in, burrowing my head into her neck. The smell of strawberry shampoo wafted from her hair. “So much.”
“To the moon and back?”
I pulled away, brushing her brown hair from her face. “To infinity and beyond.”
She grinned. “Grandma Penny made a cake.” Her eyes grew big and sparkled. “But we can’t have any till you do.”
A smile tugged at my mouth. “Okay, tell them I’ll be right out.” She nodded frantically. “And you can have the biggest piece.”
Her face lit up and she ran out of my room screaming. “She’s coming. JayJay says I can have the biggest piece. With ice cream.”
My sister could be a pain, but now she reminded me everyone outside those doors was here for me. I dropped a wall down on the darkness, banishing it away. I wiped away the few tears that escaped. I felt they were counting on me to make them feel better. To reassure them I was all right.
I pulled myself up, setting the picture back on the bureau. I rubbed at my cheeks and brushed my hair before grabbing my crutches and turning, heading out to my get-together.
I smiled, hugged, and consoled.
And I did it well.
Chapter Nine
“Do you want to go to a movie? Maybe go shopping after your physical therapy?” Mom set my oatmeal in front of me.
“No, thanks.” I shook my head, picking up a spoon.
“Come on, Jayme. You need to get out. You haven’t left this house sin
ce you came home, six days ago.”
“I don’t want to go out.” I took a bite of my cereal.
“Savannah has called you a dozen times. Are you ever going to return her calls?”
She had only called once and texted twice. “I will. I promise. I’m simply not ready.”
“Not ready? She’s your best friend.”
Best friend was a stretch. We hung out, but Colton had been my best friend. Savannah and I only saw each other at practice, parties, or when she wanted to go shopping for something and Chloe was busy.
“Nancy called to see how you were, wondering when you’d be back.” Nancy was my cheerleading coach. She was tough but fiercely loved her girls. She was the one who had called a dozen times. “Reece. Breakfast!” Mom filled a bowl of dry cereal for my sister. This week she liked her cold cereal without milk. “I thought it was sweet. Everyone misses you and wants you back.”
I stuffed another spoonful into my mouth so I didn’t have to respond.
“Reece!” Mom shouted again, placing my sister’s bowl in front of the seat next to me.
Footsteps pounded down the hall, and my sister bounced into the room full of energy and life, jumping onto the chair. I was envious of the innocence, the complete blissful naiveté to her world. Everything and anything was possible. Simple, magical, and innocent.
It was that way only a few months ago for me. It made me want to protect Reece even more. I wanted her to enjoy it as long as she could, where Santa Claus and fairies existed. No pain, no death, no sadness you couldn’t find the bottom of.
“Nancy said she’d loved to have you there. Help with the routines and stuff.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Jayme.” Mom let out a big sigh. It seemed as if her patience was thinning. “You need to do something besides sit here in your PJs watching TV. Get back into a routine.” Aka normal. “You love cheerleading. I think it would be fun to be with your friends.”
I wish it sounded fun. I had enjoyed cheerleading, but the thought of sitting there, watching them learn new dances and cheers for football games made me want to crawl in a ball. It felt meaningless.
“Mom, let me start physical therapy first and go from there.” I was tired all the time anyway. Therapy was going to be a huge challenge.
“La-la-la-la…” My sister sang out, trying to bring attention back on her.
“Reece don’t talk with your mouth full,” Mom said.
“I wasn’t. I was singing.”
Mom glowered at my sister.
“Technically she has you there.” I tried to hide my grin.
Mom’s glare moved to me.
My sister giggled, holding out her spoon to me. I clanked mine against hers in victory. Dad had taught us this move. Whenever we chose his side or he won a banter at dinner against my mother, he would clink our utensils in triumph. Reece did it all the time now.
Mom sighed and rose from the table. “I wonder if I can still run an ad in Craigslist to sell two insubordinate children.”
Dad got off work early to take me to physical therapy. We walked into the building near downtown, an old strip mall that had been gutted and fitted with a gym. There were a handful of rooms for massage and private training, but we headed for the main reception area. The woman there took the medical paperwork from Dad and signed us in.
“Justin will be right with you.” She smiled.
Dad and I nodded and turned to view the room. Treadmills lined the window area facing the parking lot. The opposite wall and the spaces in between were equipped with weight machines for every muscle group you could think of.
A brawny man walked up to us, dressed in workout pants and a tight-fitting shirt. “Hi, Jaymerson. I’m Justin. I’ll be your trainer here.” His large hand enveloped mine, shaking it. His thin T-shirt showed every bulging muscle in his chest and arms.
“Hi,” I squeaked. He was average height and looks, but his smooth bald head, bright green eyes, and fit body caused me to stumble over my words.
“Suzie is the other trainer here.” He nodded to a woman in the corner supervising a middle-aged man on the leg press. He was missing his left leg from the knee down.
Suzie was striking, possibly of Hawaiian decent. She was short but fit and curvy in all the right places. Her long, dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, showing off her cute round face and bronzed skin. I was glad Justin was my trainer. She’d make me want to slap myself thoroughly.
“Let me give you a rundown of how we run things here,” Justin continued on. My father stood diligently next to me. I could see questions already forming in his head. His job gave him too much knowledge of what I would be going through. “We work with each client for an hour and a half. Forty-five minutes is with us; the other time is stretching and working on machines with a partner. We think the healing process has a lot to do with your mental state.” My father nodded at his statement. “And we’ve noticed over the years clients have mended faster mixing with other people going through the same thing. Do you have any questions?”
My father opened his mouth, and I sighed internally. “I agree being around others helps, but I’m more curious about the routine you have to get Jayme back on her feet. That is very crucial.”
“I feel mental outlook is the most important,” Justin said politely back to my dad. I agreed with him. Dad was used to football, where men pushed their bodies to the extreme, without the psychological stuff.
As Justin obliged my father and went into detail about my workout routine, my attention wandered over the room, taking in the people and machines spread through the space. There were only a few people here and most were older. A girl lounging on the mat caught my attention.
She seemed to be around my age, maybe a little older. She was about five-seven. Her body was average, more on the skinny side but not at all toned. She definitely wasn’t a gym rat or fitness freak like Suzie. Her hair was a white-blonde with red, pink, and green streaks underneath. Her eyebrows looked almost black, and she wore thick black eyeliner. A handful of different style necklaces hung from her neck over a white T-shirt. She had on grey cotton leggings and black Nike shoes.
She noticed me staring at her and rolled off the mat to stand. She waved me over, and I drifted away from the buzz of my father’s questions and walked to her, my steps stiff and awkward.
“Hey, newbie.” A wide playful grin crossed her face. I could sense confidence radiating off her. “Welcome to Justin’s and Suzie’s torture chamber where their pleasure is in hurting you.”
“Sounds like fun.”
The girl snorted. “I’m Stevie Colvin.”
“Stevie?”
“My mom was obsessed with Stevie Nicks.” She shrugged.
“You kind of look like her.”
“Yeah, why not simply embrace it? Think my mom was hoping I would be able to sing too. No such luck.”
I smiled. “I’m Jaymerson.”
“Were your parents obsessed with whiskey?”
“No, that’s Jameson. I was named after my grandpa.”
“Well, your hair is the color of whiskey. Bet you’d go down as smooth.” She winked. “So, what’s your story, Whiskey? Why are you here?”
“Car accident.” I glanced down at my leg, the brace under my sweats strangled any sensations from the nerves.
“Hit and run,” she said, pointing to herself. “Walking across the road near campus on a Friday night.”
“Seriously? They didn’t stop?”
“Probably some drunk frat boy who didn’t want to get into trouble.” She tightened her tricolored ponytail. “Now I’m back living at home till I’m all healed. Hips and back are all messed up.” Her lips twisted down in a frown. “Just looovve living at home with my mom again.” She shifted around grimacing, not putting her weight anywhere for too long.
“How long do you have left?”
“The doctors say another three months if I keep diligent.” A wicked smile enveloped her features. “But I’m
not good at being diligent…unless it’s sex.”
Her bluntness took me aback for a moment, but then I realized I liked it. It was refreshing.
“Speaking of…” She nodded her head behind me. “I mean, seriously, his ass can’t be for real. Love to lick it.”
I turned to look over my shoulder. Justin was talking with my father, his profile to us. His butt and chest bulged and curved almost obscenely.
“Also, that one…now I’d really like that one in my bed.” Stevie motioned with her head over my other shoulder. I twisted to see our other trainer, Suzie, bending over, helping the man to stretch out one leg.
My eyebrow curved in surprise. “You’re bi?” I couldn’t help blurting out. I had never met anyone around my age open about being bi or even gay. I knew there were, statistically speaking, and I’d suspected about some kids at school, but few in my high school had admitted it. Stevie seemed to have no such reservation.
“I’m an opportunist.” Stevie grinned. “Why limit myself when I can have both?”
I thought it might make me uncomfortable, but it didn’t. It seemed to fit her.
“I suspect you’re as straight-laced as they come.”
“No,” I responded, my voice unsure.
“Please.” She tilted her head. “You are the stereotype goody-goody girl. Sheltered, sweet, and obedient. Kinda boring, Whiskey.”
Ouch. I frowned and pressed my lips together, wanting to object, but my mouth stayed closed.
“Not to worry; you’ve met me.” She motioned to herself. “I will soon purge those faults out of you.” She winked and laughed.
Speaking her mind seemed to go with her character, and for some reason even though it was directed at me, I liked her even more for it. If I did anything similar, people would be aghast and upset.
“JayJay?” my dad called over. “I’ll pick you up at four thirty.”
I waved to him as he headed for the door.
Justin walked over to us. “Okay, girls, we are here to work, not talk.”
Shattered Love Page 6