Falling to Pieces

by Leddy Harper

  “Because you spent her money?” Something didn’t add up.

  “It was what I spent the money on.”

  “What…did you buy drugs or something?”

  He let out a frustrated breath of air, and I thought for a moment he wouldn’t answer me, but then he did. “I spent it on a prostitute—a high-priced call girl. Your mother found out, like I knew she would, but instead of getting pissed about it, she used it against me. I was stupid and blinded by rage, so I never even considered the lengths she’d take to get back at me. And the only reason why she divorced me was because of her reputation. She didn’t want it to be tarnished by having a husband that paid for escorts.”

  “Whatever, Dad. You made a dumb call. People do lots of things out of anger and desperation. Do I think it’s disgusting that you’d pay for sex? Yes. But I also see why you did it. Status and reputation consumes her motives. I get the need to hit her where it counts. But what I don’t get is why she wouldn’t let you take me with you? She hates me. She tells me all the time in subtle ways. Why would she want me here?”

  “You just said it, Aubrey. Status and reputation fuel her every decision. How do you think it would seem if I got custody of you in the divorce? Mothers always get the kids. It would make her look bad if you came with me.”

  “Okay, so that means you can’t come see me, either? Or call more than once a month?”

  “Yes, and sort of,” he answered with an exhausted tone. “Moving out of the house wasn’t good enough for her. I had to move out of the county, out of her jurisdiction so my choices and lifestyle wouldn’t negatively impact her. I also wasn’t allowed to come near you—per her orders, not the court’s. She told me that if I came back to town, she’d find a way to have charges drawn up against me for solicitation of sex. I figured I’d go along with her terms until you were old enough to know the truth.”

  “And when would that have been? When I’m thirty?” I argued back, the sense of betrayal burning hot on my tongue.

  “No. I wanted to tell you last year, but I chickened out. What was I supposed to say? I’m already a failure in your eyes. Why make it worse? I hate the distance and time that separates us, and talking to you on the phone makes it worse. I’m a mess when I get off the phone with you, Aubs. A mess. I get in this funk that takes sometimes a week to get out of. And that’s just from a fifteen-minute conversation about nothing.”

  My anger began to subside, and in its place, I found sympathy and surrender. My life had been made up of a series of bad decisions, starting with my parents’ neglect of proper birth control. My dad’s decision to marry my mom, even knowing how it would turn out, might have been noble, but it certainly wasn’t smart. He dropped out of school and ignored the giant crystal ball that told him his marriage would never last, all of which practically sealed his fate. Instead of letting him go and joining the ranks of many other successful, divorced, working women, she tightened the leash, knowing that at some point in time, he’d react. And he did.

  All those decisions were out of my control, yet they directly impacted me to this day. It’s one thing to pave your own way, carve out your own destiny, but it’s something completely different when the actions of others determine your outcome. My mother has only ever been able to see one thing—her reputation. And when backed into a corner, my father only saw one thing—revenge. Not once during any of that time did either of them see me.

  It became clear once again that I’d be the only one to ever look out for myself. I couldn’t rely on others, I couldn’t depend on anyone. Just me. But I’d be okay. I was a survivor, I’d managed to overcome so much already. Some things might be harder to conquer than others, some pain might take longer to heal, but in the end, I knew I’d survive.

  “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate your honesty, and thank you for the birthday wishes. But I really think I need to go now.”

  “Aubrey, you’re probably mad at me, and blame me for all this, and I don’t discredit those feelings at all. But please, do what you need to do in order to work through this—just don’t cut me out. Don’t dismiss me. Hearing your voice for fifteen minutes once a month isn’t much. I barely survive that, and I don’t think I can handle less. I know you don’t owe me anything, but please know that I love you. You’re honestly the best part of my life. I may not show that to you, and I’ve failed at keeping you safe, but it’s the truth.” If there was a way to feel another person’s heart breaking inside of your own chest, I felt it at that moment.

  “I know, Dad. I love you, too. She can’t control us forever.”

  He released a shaky sigh before saying goodbye, wishing me a happy birthday once more, and then he hung up the phone. I couldn’t move from my spot on the porch for a while, needing time to pull myself together. A lot of information, emotions, and guilt had been dropped in my lap, and I needed time to sort through them alone. I’d never be able to go to my mother and confront her with any of this. It would do no good. In fact, it would probably cause unnecessary harm. So I needed to work through my thoughts, sort out my feelings, and lay it all to rest before heading back inside.

  If only dealing with my emotions regarding Axel could be that easy.

  “What did you decide for dinner?” my mom asked as soon as I came back inside. She stood in the kitchen with her mug of coffee, and I couldn’t help but wonder how long she’d been standing there, or if she’d overheard my conversation with my dad.

  “Meatloaf. It’s easy and one of my favorites.” I’d say I had tried to act normal around her, but there was no such thing. We’d gone over a month barely saying two words to each other, and then it was as if she decided to suddenly gift me with her kindness on my birthday. But now I knew so much more than I ever had about her, my dad, and their relationship. I wasn’t sure how to react to her now that her skeletons had been unveiled. I had just always assumed that my father had abandoned me because he didn’t care enough about me to remain in my life. Now I’d been hit with the news that he did care and had thought about me all these years. My mom had managed to assert the same control over him as she did over me. We were both prisoners in the hell my mom had created.

  “Oh, that sounds good. Want me to make the glaze?” She immediately began to root through the cabinets for a bowl before pulling the ingredients from the fridge.

  After watching her silently for a moment or two, I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Mom, this isn’t meant to be mean, but I have to ask…” I leaned my back against the counter so I could see her reaction. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  Her hands stilled around the spoon she’d grabbed to stir the glaze. “It’s your birthday, Bree,” she said as if her answer was a given and my question had been absurd.

  I wanted to back down, leave it at that. Arguing would never solve anything, especially with her. But everything I’d been through over the last two weeks, all the emotional turmoil, I couldn’t find the strength needed to drop it. “Yes, you’re right, Mom, it is. However, this isn’t the first one. I’ve had sixteen others. You’ve never been like this for any of those.” I steadied my narrowed gaze at her, almost daring her to answer.

  She huffed and then bit her lip. When her eyes settled on mine, she said, “I know. I guess realizing next year you’re going to be an adult has gotten to me. In one year from today, you won’t be my child anymore.”

  A thought came to me that I should check her coffee, wondering if she’d added something extra to it. “Huh? I’m rather certain that no matter how old I am, I’ll still be your kid. It’s not like we reach a certain point and then no longer have parents.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” But she never finished her thought. She never told me what she meant. Just dropped the conversation and went back to making the glaze for my meatloaf.

  But I didn’t need to hear her tell me what she’d meant by it, because I already knew. It had nothing to do with not being her child anymore, and everything to do with her loss of control over me. She was a lawyer, and kn
ew all too well that once I became a legal adult, I would be free to leave. She may have controlled my father and manipulated him, but she couldn’t do that with me. I didn’t need money to leave. I could apply to colleges, take out loans, and simply walk away. She had a marriage license and a bank account to keep my dad on a leash all those years…those didn’t pertain to me. That’s what she meant by losing her child in a year. She’d lose her control.

  Without another word, I left the room. I grabbed a book from my room, the blanket from earlier, and went into the trees for some privacy. I needed space from everyone and everything. I wished I could’ve called Axel and talked to him about my dad’s phone call or my mom’s behavior, but I couldn’t. I had to learn how to deal with things all on my own again, much like I had before I met him. It made me laugh at the irony. I’d gone through life for almost seventeen years without anyone to lean on, and then I had him for less than a month. Somehow, in that short span of time, I’d become reliant on another person. Axel had become my habit, and I had to learn to break it, cold turkey.

  I ended up spending hours outside, doing nothing but reading and keeping my mind occupied. I let myself get swept away in my book, forgetting reality and living within the pages of fiction. It was exactly what I needed, because by the time I finished, I found that I’d calmed down.

  It was almost five in the evening before I pulled myself away from my forest and headed inside to start dinner. My mom was nowhere to be found when I walked through the back door, but I didn’t dare go search for her. She’d left the bowl of glaze in the fridge for me, and it made me think. It shouldn’t matter how selfish or twisted her reason was for the change in her attitude. All that mattered was that she had, in fact, changed her attitude toward me. I had a little over a year left in this house with her, and nothing would make that easier than to have her kindness—phony or not.

  So as I made dinner, I found myself actually looking forward to sharing it with her. We’d gone from sitting around the table discussing my faults to not discussing anything at all. Awkward silence. And the thought of possibly having a normal conversation, a nice meal, and—if I were lucky—laughter made me excited.

  After the timer on the oven sounded, I plated our meals and took them to the kitchen table, sitting in my seat to wait for her. I’d heard her bedroom door open and knew she’d be down soon. What I hadn’t expected was to find her coming downstairs dressed to go out.

  “Where are you going?” I asked in shock.

  “Some of the women from the office are meeting up for dinner.”

  “But I thought we were eating meatloaf.”

  She paused after pulling her coat on and stared at me. “Oh, no. I told you to make whatever you wanted because I wouldn’t be here. Just wrap it up and put it in the fridge. I’ll eat it tomorrow.”

  I don’t know why I was surprised. Or why I felt pity for myself. But at that moment, it seemed as though I’d left my body and witnessed the exchange the way a stranger would. And as I watched myself, sitting alone at the kitchen table, two plates of food and an empty chair around me, my heart broke. It shattered for the young child within that had allowed herself to get her hopes up. The little girl that, against better judgment, looked forward to sharing her birthday dinner with her mother. I watched my shoulders slump, my head dip forward, and then the first drop of tears fell to my lap.

  But I shouldn’t have felt bad for myself. I should’ve known better, expected it even. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to hope that things would change. Realizing that, I pushed away from the table and dried my eyes. I put the food away, not even bothering to eat any of it. My mom had left me to eat my own birthday dinner—one I had to make myself—alone. So, I would celebrate on my own as well.

  I pulled out a cup from the cabinet and opened the door to the fridge, not even bothering to take the box of wine out before pulling on the tab and filling my glass. I didn’t put too much thought into my decision. But I knew it wasn’t for attention since no one was around, and it wasn’t even because I liked the taste of wine because I’d never had it before. I only wanted the pain to stop. I wanted the insecurities to go away and for the resentment to settle. I didn’t want to cry, I didn’t want to think about how everything had been flipped upside down, and I didn’t want to dwell. I simply wanted my mind to go blank.

  So I took my large glass of wine that sent a shiver through me with every sip and sat on the couch. I watched whatever was on the television, not paying much attention to it, and drank. I poured myself a little more after enjoying the tingles it gave me, appreciating the way my head grew fuzzy instead of heavy. I loved how it put a smile on my face and caused me to find everything on TV amusing. It was like magic.

  But before I finished my glass, I became hot. My skin burned and I couldn’t seem to cool down enough. I went to the front porch, hoping if I sat in the chair outside long enough, the chilly weather would tame the heat that radiated beneath my skin. Only, I didn’t get a chance to sit down. Something was in my seat.

  The sky was dark and my porch light remained off, but with the streetlamps and the moon in the sky, I could see the wrapped present vividly. It was small and thin, and when I picked up the silver package, it was light in my hand. I hesitated before opening it, not sure who it was from, but curiosity got the best of me and it didn’t take long before I ripped off the paper.

  I didn’t need a tag or a card to know who’d given it to me. The gift alone was enough of an indication. In my hand, I held a Guns N’ Roses CD. Their greatest hits. Axel had told me plenty of times that I should listen to them because he thought I’d like their songs, and I’d told him every time that I would. But I never did. And then after that afternoon in his yard, I decided I’d never listen to them.

  Rage filled me and caused my hands to shake. No words had been spoken, not one glance had been shared, or even a single message received, yet he comes to my house and leaves me something so personal. The nerve of him. Between the blur of fury and the haze of the wine, I ran back inside, shoved my feet into a pair of shoes, and stormed out the back door. I didn’t waste my time grabbing a coat, or even contemplating the option of calling him. All I wanted to do was release this hatred I had inside…at Axel.

  I’m not sure how I knew which house was his through the thicket of trees. I’d only ever been there once, and that had been during the daytime. Now, with the sun gone, the backs of the houses were dark, and they all seemed to look the same to me. But with his CD in my grasp, my feet carried me through the dead leaves, past the line of trees, and to his back yard as if they just knew where to go.

  I could see lights on inside through the windows, but the blinds were closed, so I had no idea which rooms they were for. I reached down at the edge of the tree line and picked up whatever I could find, which happened to be large twigs and small, thin branches. I gathered as much as I could in my arms and proceeded toward his house. Without taking aim or caring what I hit, I started to throw whatever I had at his windows. The anger inside blazed hotter with every twig that left my hand, the enraged words that flew out of my mouth grew louder every time a small branch smacked against a pane of glass. I was lost in my rage by the time his sliding glass door opened and he stepped out into the night.

  “Aubrey, what in the hell are you doing?” His question was stern, his voice hard and deep, but the level of his tone came out more like growling than yelling.

  I dropped the pieces of brush I’d picked up, but never let go of the plastic case in my hand. My fingers clutched it in a death grip, the last piece of him he’d given me, and although I wanted to smash it, destroy it the way he’d destroyed me, I couldn’t find it within me to let it go.

  “You’re an asshole, Axel! You’re a heartless bastard. I hate you! I wish I’d never met you, that I never let you in.” My breath caught and I choked on my words, making me sound as though I was on the verge of breaking down. And maybe I was, maybe the emotions had finally become too much to bear. But not once did my ey
es burn with tears nor my body rack with sobs. Instead, my shoulders remained squared, my spine stayed straight, and I kept my knees locked.

  “I get it…you’re mad at me for what I did.”

  “No,” I said, taking a step toward him. “I’m not mad at that. I was hurt by it. And no matter how much it devastated me, beneath it all, I understood. I’m not stupid, Axel. I know the consequences our relationship held. And even though your silence for the last two weeks has gutted me, turned me inside out and flipped me upside down, changed who I am as person…I understand why it has to be this way. That’s not what this is about. I’m not here because you broke my heart. I’m here because now you’re just fucking with it. Like you’re taking the shattered, damaged pieces, and playing with them. That’s what pisses me off. That’s what makes me hate you.”

  Axel closed the distance between us with two steps. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve made sure to not talk to you, to keep my distance, even in class when I’m supposed to communicate with all my students. You think that’s been easy for me? Do you really think it hasn’t flipped my world upside down to ignore you and fight off every urge to call you? I’m exhausted, Aubrey. Physically and emotionally drained from having to fight against everything I want.”

  “So what? You gave in and decided to fuck with my head?”

  “Again, Bree, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I slammed the CD against his chest as hard as I could, packing every ounce of strength behind that punch. “This, you fucking idiot! You can’t look at me in class, sit near me, send me a fucking text message to wish me a happy birthday, but you can come to my house and leave this for me? Is this some way to ensure I won’t get over you? To make sure you stay in my head?”

  His hands covered mine, holding the plastic case against him. Then he pulled his eyes from where we touched, lifted them to my face, and exhaled with a shaky breath. “That’s not why. I bought this CD before everything happened. I wanted to give it to you today. And then…”