Broken to Pieces

by Avery Stark

  "Do you think that there could be a happy ending here?"

  Adam sighed and curled his arm around her shoulders, "I think that life, like art, ends up meaning whatever you want it to mean, you know? If you want a happy ending, sometimes you have to make it yourself."

  Emily didn't respond. She couldn't. What words were there to explain the struggle going on inside of her lonely heart?

  "Most of the time," he continued, "we see what we need to see just to get by."

  "And you don't think that's the way it really is?"

  "Not always. Look-"

  He rolled onto his side and raised his body up so that he was leaning over her.

  "-I don't have a lot to offer you, but I can promise that I would do whatever it takes to keep you happy."

  Emily looked past him to the star-lit sky twinkling overhead.

  "Is this about Mitch?"

  Just seeing her say his name made Adam crumble back down onto the floor.

  "It's more than that."

  "I figured."

  Adam laid his head down over hers and asked, "So what now?"

  "I don't know, Adam. I really, really just don't know.

  They lay there that night, their naked bodies sparkling from white light of the waxing moon overhead. There were no more words that needed to be said, only choices to be made.

  Chapter 9

  The very next day-a Sunday-the sound of Barbara and Gary's rental car slowly rolling into the parking lot woke Emily up well before dawn. According to her alarm clock, it was precisely 3:48 am.

  She stumbled out of her room and through the front door.

  "Gary? Barbara? Are you guys okay?"

  Her voice was just loud enough to carry its self over the crickets and the pathetic sputtering of the engine as it shut down. Emily raised her hand over her eyes to shield them from the constant, yellow glow of the lights overhead. Inside of the car, there was only one person.

  "Guys?"

  Barbara popped the door open and slowly climbed out. Emily hopped down the stairs and the two met near the bottom.

  "What's going on? Where's Gary?"

  "He's," she stumbled over her words, "um, not coming."

  "Oh," Emily gasped. "Is he okay?"

  "Oh yes," she said and started up the stairs. "I'm sure him and his other wife are very happy."

  Her words made Emily stop dead in her tracks.

  "What?"

  "Could you come in and have some coffee with me? I'm hurting for some caffeine in the worst way."

  "I, uh, sure," she stammered and raced into the kitchen behind her.

  Five minutes later, the two leaned against the counter with their steaming cups in hand.

  "I don't understand," Emily continued. "What do you mean 'other wife'?"

  Barbara took a hearty swing with a grimace. It was still scorching hot.

  "Well, it turns out that his other wife and two children were his motivation for going to Richmond, not sightseeing. I do have to admit that I saw a whole lot of sights, if you could call them that."

  "Two kids?! How long has this been going on?"

  "From the looks of it," she closed her eyes and opened them back up very slowly, "about ten years or so. I didn't stay around long enough to ask."

  "And you had no idea that all of this was going on?"

  "Not a clue," she replied plainly. "I followed him on a hunch and everything had to come out."

  "So you just…left?"

  She shrugged her heavy shoulders and raised her chin defiantly, "There is nothing left for me in the life that we shared."

  The sentiment sounded all too familiar.

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "He owns everything. Our children are grown and scattered all over the country. Hell, I had to put down my only dog two days before we came here. And if I did stay, what would I ever have to look forward to?"

  Though she knew it was a rhetorical question, Emily wished that she had some kind of answer to give her.

  "You mean to tell me that without him you literally have nothing to go home to?"

  "Correct."

  "But why did you leave him so quick? Why didn't you try to work things out if he was all that you had left?"

  Barbara sighed and tapped the side of her cup with one of her long nails.

  "You could also say that he was the one last thing holding me back. The best choice isn't always going to be the safe one, you know."

  Emily swirled the last quarter of the coffee in the bottom of her cup.

  "Are you trying to say that I should be with Adam?"

  Barbara set her mug onto the counter top. Her large wedding ring, Emily noticed, was already gone. In its wake, only a tiny sliver of tanless skin remained.

  "What I'm trying to say," she grabbed the younger woman's shoulders and forced their stares to meet, "is that life guarantees you and me nothing. No man or woman-regardless of their money or connections-can change that, Emily."

  All around Barbara's eyes, the tell-tale black whispers of running mascara scarred her usually bright skin.

  "We can't stop the flow of life," she continued. "But it seems to me like those decisions that we do get to make should be judged by the heart, not the head. It might save you a lot of trouble later on. Trust me." She paused and then continued, "You can't be afraid to take a chance. After all, life is nothing but one big roll of the dice anyway."

  Both women fell silent. Emily stared down at the tepid puddle in the bottom of her cup and carefully mulled over every last word that she had just been told. Her time to make a decision was up and she felt even more torn than before. Both sides of her mind screamed for resolution.

  "Emily?"

  The soft resonance of Adam's sleepy voice shocked her back to reality. She spun on her heels and came face-to-face with her equally unsure lover. In his arms, the two books of paperwork stared up at her mockingly.

  "Adam," she set down her cup and rubbed her face, "what are you doing? Why do you have those?"

  She reached out to grab the folders but he moved his arms away.

  "I just wanted to make a point."

  Emily's arms fell to her sides in defeat while Barbara watched on quietly.

  "What's that?"

  "My point," he presented the books to her, "is that neither of one these is the right path unless we are walking it together."

  Emily studied the longing look in his eyes, and then shifted to where the paperwork sat sloppily on the counter. There, amidst the refrigerator's pulsing hum and the strong, bitter scent of coffee in the air, she closed her eyes and, finally, let go of the seeds of fear that had been planted deep within her soul.

  "I want to stay here," she reached out and touched his arm, "with you."

  His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, "That's all I've been wanting to hear."

  She glanced over to his painting that still hung proudly on the wall. From where she stood, only the bottom corner by his signature was visible, though that did little to change the effect that it had on her.

  "What about your art?"

  He tossed the books aside and took both of her hands into his.

  "I can't paint beauty without having it in my life."

  Emily smiled and let his arms snake over her shoulders. He pulled her in tight and all three people in the kitchen went quiet as the first golden rays burst through the eastern horizon and forced their way through a small, round prism in the window that Emily had hung when she was only four. The tiny trinket cast an impressive swath of dime-sized rainbows all over the room and its occupants.

  It was, for the hour or so that they all stood and watched, a peaceful stillness that only comes after the worst of storms, though there was still a cloud or two lingering in the proverbial distance.

  —

  When Mitch's slick sports car rolled into the parking lot, taking up three spots on one side, Emily was just about to start feeling better. But when she caught sight of the glimmering paint job and the chromed ad
ditions, her heart sank into her stomach. If she could simply wish him away, she certainly would have done so right then. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option.

  Mitch kicked the door open with his black leather shoe and stepped out. The back of his fitted jacket fluttered behind him as he unbuttoned it and slipped both hands into his pockets.

  He called out to the house, "Emily?"

  Though it was the last thing in the world that she wanted to do, the young woman forced herself to climb out of the couch where she was napping and go outside. The sun overhead was bright but the air around them was cool and still. That day, unlike any of the others leading up to it, was exceptionally mild. It was, to everyone, a much-needed relief.

  Emily stepped out onto the patio with bare feet and a baggy tee shirt that dangled from her bony shoulders. Compared to Mitch and his custom suit, she couldn't help but feel like a hobo.

  "What's up?"

  Mitch started toward her but stopped at the bottom of the stairs. It was just far enough for the porch to block out the bright sun that beat down on his face.

  "Well I'm going to Boston tonight and I was wondering if you had given any thought to what I said."

  "I have, yeah."

  "And?"

  "And," she leaned against the railing, "I'm going to have to decline."

  Mitch pulled the dark shades off of his eyes and tucked them into his pocket. The look of offense on his face was remarkable.

  "What is that look for?"

  "I just…how can…"

  He was almost speechless.

  "What's wrong with you?"

  Mitch finally answered, "You want to stay here and run this place by yourself?"

  "That's the idea."

  "Hmph," he scoffed. "Just remember that I tried to save you from all of this."

  Emily started to get the impression that his intentions weren't all that honest. Why she hadn't seen it sooner weighed on her mind.

  "What is that supposed to mean?"

  He laughed, "Do you really think that you can run the Chickweed alone? I mean, the building is almost worthless and you have no idea how to run a business!"

  Emily placed both hands on her hips and stood closer to him.

  "So you think that I should just bail at the first sign of trouble?"

  "No, but-"

  By then, it was too late. Emily was seeing red.

  "Fuck off," she interrupted, surprising both of them. "Not everyone in the world has a trust fund to run home to when life gets real."

  "Hey," he said with a disgusting, cocky smirk, "don't say that I didn't try to help you."

  Every one of his words stung her like acid.

  "You can help me by leaving."

  Mitch whipped out his sun glasses and slipped them onto his face with one smooth motion.

  "Suit yourself. I just hope that you don't let your dad down."

  That was all it took to send Emily into a rage. She lunged forward and slapped him across the face so hard that his expensive glasses were flung from the bridge of his nose and landed in the dirt.

  She didn't feel him jump right back at her in a fit of rage, nor did she realize that his hands instantly wrapped around her neck as he forced her back against the front door with a loud thump that drew the attention of the people inside.

  Adam burst out onto the porch just in time to see Mitch draw his hand back. He sprang into action, grabbing him by the arm and pulling all three of them down to the ground.

  Much of what happened next was a blur of fists, shoves and shouting that eventually left Adam and Mitch in the parking lot, standing face to face. All four of their hands were clenched into tight fists, waiting for the slightest move to set them off.

  "You need to get the hell out of here," Adam said loudly.

  Mitch licked at his lips, "Why?"

  Adam pushed the arrogant young man toward his car.

  "Because nobody wants you here."

  "Oh I don't know about that," he turned to Emily, who was standing only a few yards away. "Don't you want to keep around a real man just in case you-"

  Emily watched as Adam pulled back his fist and then let it fly. The tops of his knuckles landed squarely on the left side of Mitch's jaw. There was a deafening crack that echoed through the otherwise quiet area. A streaming thread of spit and blood followed Mitch's mouth as he stumbled backwards but didn't fall.

  "Now you've gone and done it," he mumbled and tore off his jacket.

  In a flash, he pulled himself back together and met Adam's stare again.

  "Stop it," Emily ran over and grabbed Adam's arm. "Just stop."

  "Awww," Mitch said mockingly. "Is your little whore girlfriend going to fight for you?"

  Without saying anything, Adam punched him again in the very same spot. That time, however, the blow sent Mitch down to his knees. Almost instantly, the entire left half of his face swelled up to the size of a softball. But that still wasn't enough for Adam. He wanted to make him pay.

  He moved in closer and kicked Mitch right at the base of his rib cage, forcing the air out of his lungs with a dramatic gasp. Emily tried to calm him, but it was as if she was talking to a brick wall.

  He reared back and kicked him again, this time sending him onto his back.

  Things would have gone on like that if Sherriff Joe's voice hadn't cut right through the insanity.

  "Hey, HEY!"

  Before any of the parties involved knew what was happening, the wily Sherriff snatched Mitch up by the collar of his button-down shirt and pulled him back up to his feet.

  "Mitch Parker? Emily? What the hell is going on here?!"

  Mitch lobbed a bloody ball of spit onto the ground near the Sherriff's boot. When he spoke, he turned his head and locked eyes with Emily.

  "Nothing, Joe. It's nothing."

  "It sure doesn't look like nothing."

  In a pompous act of defiance, the handsome young engineer shrugged the officer's hands off of his shoulders and took a step to the side to break free. There, he plucked the ends of the garment that had come un-tucked from his fitted slacks.

  "It's fine," he wiped away a trickle of blood escaping from his swollen bottom lip. "I was just leaving anyway."

  The Sherriff opened the driver's side door for him and motioned for him to get in, "Good. I was going to suggest the same thing."

  With one last, angry look in Emily's direction, Mitch climbed into the car, slammed the door shut behind him and gunned the engine to life. In a matter of seconds, the fiery coupe peeled out of the parking lot and disappeared.

  Sherriff Joe turned back to face Emily and Adam.

  "Go inside. I need to talk to you two."

  "Yes, sir," Emily replied quietly.

  As the group filed into the house, Adam hung back with the Sherriff. When he was sure that they were out of ear-shot, he reached over and tapped the top of his arm.

  "Sir?"

  Joe stopped and leaned back against the doorway. To Adam, he looked just like a cowboy.

  "Yes?"

  "Look, I'm sorry for all of that back there. Things just got a little heated and-"

  The Sherriff waved his hand and interrupted, "No, no. It's okay. That kid has been a thorn in my side ever since he was old enough to walk. Unfortunately his father has a lot of influence around these parts."

  "That explains a lot."

  He laughed and patted Adam on the shoulder to get him moving again.

  "Don't worry about it, son. Now let's go join the ladies."

  The two of them brought up the rear of the procession into the living room, where Barbara was waiting with her hands clasped in her lap. Emily sat down next to her on the couch and leaned back with a groan. In the last open seat in their row, Adam plopped down next to Emily and put his arm over her shoulders.

  Across from them, Sherriff Joe sank down into one of the opposing chairs and set his hat on the table in front of them.

  He cleared his throat and spoke, "Emily, I wanted to sit down and talk to y
ou about the accident."

  "Okay."

  Though her voice remained demure, every inch of her intestines felt like they were knotted up.

  "I know it doesn't feel like it's been that long but all of the tests and results came back, so we are ready to close the case on this."

  "That's all you wanted to talk to me about?"

  The Sherriff suddenly looked uncomfortable.

  "Uh, no. Not exactly." He shifted his weight in the chair and continued, "I have to offer you an apology."

  Emily quickly tried to gauge the reactions of those to her right and left but came up with nothing.

  "What for?"

  "Well, because it seems that all of us have been misled. Though there were empty containers in your mother's purse, there wasn't even a drop in her blood. According to the paper work she was completely sober."

  "So," Emily's tongue stumbled over the surprise, "she wasn't drunk? It really was just an accident?"

  "That is going to be our official position, yes."

  She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and put her face into her palms to keep the room from spinning out of control. The prior months had been so full of hate and anger that she had almost become comfortable just wallowing in it.

  It was so much easier to hold a grudge than it was going to be to forgive.

  The hot sting of tears bit at the edges of her eye lids as she asked, "Are you sure?"

  "Positive. It looks like there was a defective part in the braking system, which forced Caroline into a tree when she tried to avoid some junk in the road."

  Some junk in the road? The idea of something as simple as trash being the cause of all of her pain and sorrow was almost too much to take. In a way, Emily wished that the Sherriff had never come that day. The vitriol that she'd held onto for so long was like a child's pacifier. Whenever she would start to feel upset and vulnerable, she could go back to those other feelings to escape from reality.

  Now, Emily thought, I'm going to have to forgive.

  She knew that it was going to take a long time, years maybe. In a way, the revelation made her feel so guilty that she felt like she was going to vomit on the tattered rug under her shoes. All of those years were gone. There was no chance for them to repair their ties, no hope of freeing their relationship from the bonds of distrust. On top of all of that she knew, in the long run, that her memories would always be tainted.