Shattered

by Sarah N. Harvey

  She frowned at me and said, “Your hair is different.”

  “A lot of things are different, Mrs. McKenna.”

  She nodded, as if she understood.

  “The hospital called and I ran out the door. I left Brady in charge.” She put a hand to her mouth. Her pale pink nail polish was chipped. “Do you think that’s okay?”

  The elevator doors opened. “Brady’s, what? Thirteen?” I said.

  She nodded.

  “They’ll be fine, Mrs. McKenna.” No use telling her Brady was a little jerk. But I wasn’t about to offer to babysit. We were on Tyler’s ward now, and I could see Nurse Rosa talking to Mr. McKenna outside Tyler’s room. Mrs. McKenna stepped away from me. Her back stiffened.

  Mr. McKenna stepped forward and took his wife’s hand. “Wait here, March,” he said to me. “Family only. Doctor’s orders.”

  Before I could protest, he and Mrs. McKenna had stepped into the room and shut the door in my face.

  “Aren’t you his cousin?” a voice said.

  Nurse Rosa was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, smiling.

  Living an honest life is harder than it sounds, I thought.

  “No,” I said. “I’m his girlfriend. Or I was, until right before the accident. Is he okay?”

  “Well, he opened his eyes and asked for a Coke, so yeah, I think he’s gonna be okay. In the long run.”

  “What do you mean—in the long run?”

  “Coma recovery isn’t always straightforward. It’s not like in the movies. Some patients need a lot of help, for a long time.”

  “But he will get better, right?”

  Nurse Rosa patted my arm. “I’ve already said more than I should. I’m not a doctor. Go and wait in the patient lounge. I’ll let you know when his folks leave. If he’s still awake, you can have five minutes with him. As far as I’m concerned, you’re his cousin from Regina. The one who brings him weird gifts. Now get out of here and let me do my job.”

  She laughed and gave me a gentle shove toward the lounge.

  I sat in a beat-up corduroy recliner in the small, overheated lounge. The TV was on, but the sound was muted. I tried to watch Tom Selleck silently solve a crime in New York City. But not even his awesome ’stache could hold my attention. My thoughts bounced around like Ping-Pong balls in my brain. Bounce to Tyler. Bounce to Hazel. Bounce to Mr. Hardcastle. Bounce back to Tyler. At some point, I discovered the chair had a remote. I fiddled around with that for a while. One button made the whole chair rise up and deposit me on my feet. That was cool, but it didn’t stop the bouncing in my brain.

  I lay back in the chair and closed my eyes. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, Rosa was shaking my shoulder.

  “They’re gone,” she said. “Five minutes.”

  I wiped the drool from my chin and stood up. At least I wasn’t wearing Mom’s clothes anymore. I’d found an old pair of black pants and a plain white shirt in the back of my closet. I was still wearing my old runners though. I ran my hands through my hair. Nothing much I could do now. Tyler was going to wake up to a whole new me, whether I liked it or not.

  When I opened the door to his room, he looked the same as he had the night before. The machines were gone though. I had kind of expected him to be sitting up, sipping a Coke. Smiling his wicked smile. I stood at the end of the bed and watched him for a few minutes. Was I ready? Time will tell, Mom always said. While I was watching him, his eyes opened. I stepped to the side of the bed. He turned his head toward me and blinked a couple of times. His eyes were unfocussed.

  “Hey, Tyler,” I said.

  “Water,” he croaked. I picked up a plastic cup full of ice water from the bedside table and held the straw to his lips.

  “Welcome back,” I said.

  He waved the glass away.

  “March?” he said.

  “That’s me.”

  “Those glasses suck ass.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  That was all Tyler said. “Those glasses suck ass.”

  Then he closed his eyes and went back to sleep. So much for my fantasy of a tearful reunion after my big confession. So much for undoing the past.

  I left the hospital and went home.

  My parents had kept dinner hot for me. Veggie meatloaf and peas. Ugh.

  They sat with me in silence while I stared at the plate of food.

  “Mrs. McKenna called,” Mom finally said. “She says you were at the hospital. So you know the good news.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t seem very excited about it,” Dad said.

  “It’s going to be a long haul,” I replied. “His nurse told me that.”

  Dad nodded. “Brain injuries are tricky things.”

  “So they tell me,” I said. I pushed my plate away. “None of it made any difference, did it?”

  “None of what?” Dad asked.

  “The hair. The glasses. The job. After all that, I’m still me.”

  Mom and Dad exchanged a glance that probably meant This is what we’ve been waiting for.

  “I’m still the girl who ran away. I’m still a bad person. And I don’t know if I can tell him.”

  There was a pause before Mom said, “You ran away? I’m sorry, March. I don’t understand.”

  “I caught Tyler cheating. I shoved him. He hit his head. I ran away.”

  Mom and Dad exchanged another glance. This one probably meant This is worse than we thought.

  I looked away from their concerned faces. “A good person would have stayed with him. A good person wouldn’t have lied about what happened.”

  “So you cut your hair and quit your job because you wanted the outside to match the inside. And you felt ugly inside,” Dad said.

  I nodded. “But it didn’t make any difference, did it?”

  “What difference did you want it make?” he asked.

  “Jeez, Dad. Could you be a little less psycho-babbly? I wanted to even things out. I guess I wanted to suffer.”

  “And did you?”

  “Not as much as I thought I would. I mean, yeah, the whole Kayla thing was pretty bad. But I kept meeting people who actually were suffering. This girl, Hazel. She’s homeless. And my new boss has twins and their mom is dead. But they liked me, even with bad hair and ugly glasses. Kids on the bus showed me their toys. The outside didn’t matter at all.”

  “Because they could see who you really are, March,” Mom said.

  “Didn’t you hear me, Mom?” I yelled and slammed my fists on the table. My knife and forked jumped off my plate. “I pushed Tyler. And I left him for dead.”

  “And you checked his pulse and called nine-one-one. And you tried to—” She paused. “You tried to atone.”

  “In the Middle Ages, people atoned by wearing hair shirts,” Dad said. “Your mom’s clothes and that haircut and those glasses are your hair shirt. But the thing about atonement is that it doesn’t go on forever. At some point, there has to be some forgiveness. If you’re religious, you ask God to forgive you.”

  “And if you’re not,” Mom chimed in, “you have to forgive yourself.”

  “But I want Tyler to forgive me first.”

  Mom stood up. “Let’s get some rest. We’ll go to see Tyler tomorrow. Together. I’ll clear it with the McKennas. Okay?”

  I nodded and went upstairs. There was an email from Augie, sent earlier that day. It was one word: Congratulations. Sometimes Augie can be a real pain in the ass. In the morning I called Nat and told her everything.

  She was mad at first. Really mad.

  “You should have told me,” she yelled. “I could have helped you. I’m your best friend.”

  “I know,” I said. “But I thought you’d hate me. I hate me. I left him, Nat. Lying on the deck.”

  “Did you check his pulse? Did you call nine-one-one?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “You caught him cheating on you. That’s, like, temporary insanity right there.”

  “I know
, but—”

  “You should have stayed. No question. But you didn’t. And he’s gonna be okay, right?”

  “I think so.”

  “Then get over yourself and do something useful.”

  “Like what?”

  “I dunno. Maybe Mrs. McKenna could use some help with the kids. Maybe you could drive Tyler to rehab. There’s gotta be something.”

  “What if Tyler hates me? What if I can’t forgive him either?”

  “Then you deal with that. And you still help out.”

  I nodded. “Will you come to the hospital with me tomorrow?”

  “What time?” Nat said.

  After I finished work on Monday, Mom and Dad drove me and Nat to the hospital. Mom said Mr. and Mrs. McKenna were at church. I went in to see Tyler by myself. Mom and Dad went to the patient lounge to play with the recliners.

  Nat curled up on a chair in the hall outside Tyler’s room. “Shout if you need me,” she said, slipping in her earbuds.

  Tyler’s eyes opened when I walked in. The head of his bed was raised so he was almost sitting up.

  “What happened to your hair?” he rasped.

  “Cut it. Dyed it.”

  “Were you here before? I think I remember those glasses.”

  “I was here last night. You were pretty dopy. But you told me the glasses suck ass.”

  He laughed. “Well, they do. The hair’s okay though.”

  “Thanks.” I sat on the visitor’s chair beside the bed and picked up the zombie snow globe. “I was here a few times. No one knows. I brought you this stuff.”

  I shook the snow globe, and he smiled.

  His teeth looked gray and a bit fuzzy.

  “Zombies. Cool,” he said. “Thanks.

  I wish I could say I remember you being here, but I don’t.”

  “Do you remember anything? How you hurt yourself? How you got here?”

  He shrugged. “Not really. I was at the party. And now I’m here. I must have slipped.”

  I swallowed. It felt as if I had a brick in my throat. He didn’t remember. Maybe he never would. Then I took a deep breath and said, “I pushed you.”

  “What?”

  “I caught you screwing Kayla. I was pretty mad. I pushed you, and you hit your head.”

  “Kayla? I screwed Kayla?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  He shook his head and winced. “I remember drinking a lot of vodka. But I don’t remember Kayla being there. Or you. I must have been really hammered. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s it?” I said. “You’re sorry?”

  “I’m the one who ended up in a coma, March. Not you,” he said. “What happened after you pushed me?”

  “I checked to make sure you were alive and then I called nine-one-one.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then I left.”

  “You left.”

  The words sat in the air between us, cold and heavy.

  “Yes.”

  “You bitch. I could have died.”

  “I know. But you’re okay now…”

  Tyler stared at me, and then said, “Get out.”

  “Tyler—”

  “Get out!” Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He grabbed a glass of water from the bedside table and threw it at me. I ducked, and it splashed against the wall behind me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Get out.” He fell back against the pillows and turned his head away from me. I think he was crying.

  Nat was waiting for me in the hall.

  Behind us, something thumped against the door.

  “Zombie snow globe,” I said.

  “If you say so,” Nat said.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The McKennas banned me from visiting Tyler after that. Mrs. McKenna told my mom that Tyler didn’t need “March’s toxic drama.” But I’m pretty sure he didn’t tell them what happened at the party. About a month after my last visit, I got a long rambling text from him. He said he’d started going to church again, and he was trying to forgive me. He was looking forward to going back to school and hoped it wouldn’t be awkward. He was sorry for what happened with Kayla, but he thought we’d been heading down a wrong road anyway. The “incident” had been a wake-up call. A game-changer. He wasn’t drinking anymore. He wasn’t going to be playing contact sports. He sounded like a total stranger. Maybe it was the brain injury. Maybe not. I’d never know for sure.

  I spent a couple of days crying after I got that text. All the pain came back. Worse than before. It felt shitty. Really shitty. But in a way, it was like we were even. He hurt me. I hurt him. I was trying to forgive him, and he was trying to forgive me. He was going to be okay. So was I. Maybe I didn’t have my perfect life anymore, but I had something different. Something better.

  “You’ve changed,” Nat said one day in late August. She was leaning on the counter of Castle Gifts, watching me cash out. “And I don’t mean just your hair.”

  “I like my hair. It’s easy.”

  “Wouldn’t hurt to touch up your roots though,” Nat said as I locked up.

  “Maybe get a professional to tidy it up.”

  “I guess. I’ll do it before we go back to school, okay?”

  Nat nodded. “At least you’re not wearing your mom’s clothes anymore.” She shuddered. “And the runners…”

  I laughed and looked down at my feet. I had bought some new sandals the week before. Comfortable but cute. That was my new motto.

  We passed Hazel’s corner on our way to Lens Crafters to choose new frames. I hadn’t seen her since the day of the haiku. I checked her corner every day on my way to and from work, but it was always empty. As if it was waiting for her.

  Someone called my name. I turned and saw a skinny girl with a shaved head and a lot of piercings standing in the alcove where Hazel used to sit.

  “I’ve got something for you,” she said.

  “You know this chick?” Nat asked.

  “Nope,” I said.

  “I’m a friend of Hazel’s,” the girl said.

  I stepped toward her, and she opened her denim jacket. A small gray head peeked out.

  “Basho!” I cried. “Where did you get him? Where’s Hazel?”

  I reached out and Basho jumped into my arms.

  “She’s gone,” the girl said. “After she got out of rehab, her folks came and got her. Took her back to Alberta.”

  Rehab. That explained a lot.

  “Why didn’t she take Basho?” I asked.

  Basho butted my hand with his head.

  The girl shrugged. “Dunno. Allergies, maybe? She told me your name. Where to find you. She said you’d pay me.”

  “She did?”

  “March, it’s a scam,” Natalie hissed.

  “Hazel’s probably at some crack house waiting for the money.”

  I ignored her and handed the girl most of my cash. My new glasses could wait.

  “Hazel said you’d do the right thing.”

  The girl turned and walked away from us. Basho nibbled my hand.

  “You hungry, little guy?” I said.

  “Yeah, and probably flea-infested too,” Nat said. “But he is kinda cute.”

  I nodded and buried my face in Basho’s fur.

  Dear Augie,

  I’ve been memorizing a poem for you. I found it in a book I bought at a secondhand store. It’s called “The Waking.” It has the best last stanza ever. Even better than “Sestina.”

  This shaking keeps me steady. I should

  know.

  What falls away is always. And is near.

  I wake to sleep, and take my waking

  slow.

  I learn by going where I have to go.

  I recite it to myself every night before I go to sleep. I imagine that somewhere in Alberta Hazel is listening. I’m working on Mom and Dad to let me visit you in Germany. I’ve already signed up for a German class at school. And it turns out my boss, Jason
, knows German too. You’ll meet him and the twins when you visit. I can’t wait to see you.

  Ich liebe dich,

  March

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks, as always, to Andrew Wooldridge for his unwavering support and his weird sense of humor. Thanks, too, to Robin Stevenson, whose friendship, encouragement and compassion brighten my life.

  Sarah N. Harvey is the author of eight books for children and young adults. Some of her books have been translated into Korean, German and Slovenian, none of which she speaks or reads. Her novel, The Lit Report, has been optioned for a feature film. She will not be in it. She lives and writes in Victoria, British Columbia, where she is determined to learn how to salsa dance, study Italian and overcome her fear of flying (in no particular order). For more information, visit www.sarahnharvey.com.