Fall to Pieces: A story about addiction and love

by Shari J. Ryan

  Just as I’m about to set my phone down, it starts ringing with a number I don’t recognize. It’s a local number, though.

  I stand from my desk and close the door to take the call in private.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “August, it’s Diane, Keegan’s mom.”

  “You’re not Keegan’s mother, Diane.”

  “August, please. We will be coming over to your apartment this afternoon to pick up some of Keegan’s things. I wanted to let you know that we would be there since you’re most likely at work.”

  Hell no. Keegan’s parents will not be in my apartment when I’m not home.

  “This afternoon is not a good time,” I tell her. She knows I’m at work. It’s the precise reason they chose this afternoon.

  “You don’t have to be there, dear. Nothing to worry about.”

  She’s out of her mind. “I’ve changed the locks, so I’m afraid you won’t be able to get in without me.”

  “August, you don’t own that apartment. The lease is still under both of your names, and we are Keegan’s power of attorney.”

  “You are not Keegan’s anything,” I remind her.

  “August, I expect you will be home at three p.m. to let us inside.”

  “Diane,” I snap.

  “Goodbye, dear.”

  I slam my phone down on my desk and re-open my door. I’m already treading on thin ice with Leena, and knowing my luck, this will just push her over the edge.

  “Miss Tay,” Zooey shouts from the kiddie table in the corner of the communal area. “Look at my lion!”

  All thoughts of Diane and Leena are on hold as I tend to Zooey, the sweetest little girl. Her hair is up in pigtails with little ringlets sprouting in every direction. The t-shirt she has on is too large, but Minnie Mouse is on the front. She looks like she’s wearing a nightgown.

  “Oh my gosh, Zooey. Did you draw that all by yourself?”

  “Silly, Miss Tay. Who else would have drewn this?”

  “Drawn,” I say, correcting her out of habit. I shouldn’t expect her to speak perfectly at four.

  “Who else would have drawn this,” she says again.

  “No one but the talented Zooey,” I reply with enthusiasm.

  “That’s right, Miss Tay.”

  I run my finger over the top of her head and stand back up to find Leena.

  She’s making up snacks in the kitchen, filling each cup with even proportions of raisins and crackers. “How is the paperwork coming along for Jeremy?” she asks.

  It’s hard to have a natural conversation with Leena or show any sign of friendliness outside of what she should be doing.

  “I—I have a small issue I have to tend to this afternoon.”

  “Of course you do,” she replies. I’m sure she thinks I had three days last week to handle issues.

  “Leena, it’s Keegan’s parents. They’re demanding access to his things in our apartment.”

  “And?” she continues.

  “I have to be there to let them inside because they’re not complying with my schedule. They are also making threats.” I might be exaggerating a touch, but I need to make the story sound viable.

  “Very well. Please make sure you situate Jeremy before you leave. He should be arriving within the hour.”

  “Thank you for understanding, Leena. This situation will all pass soon.”

  “I’m sure,” she says.

  By the sound of her responses, I can almost assume she’s agreeing because she’s planning to remove me from my position here.

  “I need this job,” I remind her. “I love what I do. I’m sorry I’m going through a rough time.”

  Leena drops the bag of crackers onto the counter and turns around, sweeping a stray gray hair out of her eyes. “August, I understand you are going through a tough time. I’m surrounded by tough times, as are you, but rather than coming to me with your issues, come to me with your solutions. Do you understand?”

  I nod in agreement. I had a solution already worked out, but Leena is the type who likes to be in control.

  “Of course.”

  “It’s time to become a little more aggressive here and a little less timid. You need to thicken up that skin of yours and bear less emotion. Got it?”

  I nod again. “Yes, I agree.” I don’t agree. These children need love. The structure of their environment should come second in my mind, but my thoughts don’t matter when it comes to the rules for children who are wards of the state. When I began studying in this field, I had the mindset that I would be helping these children by offering them a life they never had, but I don’t see that part often. I only see what happens in between these kid’s lives that have spiraled out of control and hopeful best-case scenarios for them. After helping Jeremy settle in with the other children, I packed up my belongings for the day and flew home. God only knows if Diane and Keegan’s dad, Lenny, would have the landlord let her in, or better yet, try her key that still works since I didn’t change the locks.

  I’m home before they arrive, and I take a few minutes to straighten up. I don’t exactly care what they think, but I’m concerned with the blame Diane has placed on me. It makes me wonder if they have other plans up their sleeve, pressing charges, or whatnot. I don’t trust them.

  I texted May a few hours ago to see if she would come over, so I didn’t have to be alone with Diane and Lenny. Thankfully, she didn’t have any meetings scheduled, so she’s on her way too.

  It’s about to be a grand ole’ party here.

  Just before I hear Diane’s nails tap on the door, I remember to hide the whiskey bottles sitting out on the kitchen counter.

  I open the door, finding Diane, Lenny, and May standing in front of me.

  “I wasn’t aware your sister would be joining us, as well,” Diane says.

  “I wasn’t aware you’d be showing up today, period. This visit is going to be the last time you come here without ample warning, or when I’m at work.”

  “Do not speak to us that way, August.”

  “The lease is being changed over to my name tonight. So, yes, I can inform you of my rules.”

  I was the one who submitted all the paperwork to get this apartment. We used my tax forms and my credit score because Keegan didn’t qualify on his own.

  “Where is Keegan’s stuff?” Lenny asks. Lenny hardly ever speaks. I can imagine it has something to do with Diane’s big mouth, but even when Keegan’s mom was alive, he didn’t talk much. He’s somewhat of a pile of mush who goes along for the ride.

  “I have everything set aside in boxes,” I tell them.

  I drag the boxes out from the other side of the wall and place them in front of Lenny’s feet. “This is it?” Diane asks. “Surely Keegan had more belongings in here than whatever is in these four boxes.”

  “Nope, actually he didn’t. Keegan was a simple man.” I mean that in so many ways.

  May sweeps by the two who are still standing in the doorway, rudely. “Excuse me,” she says, snarling before passing by me, as well.

  “I’ll just take a look for myself,” Diane says.

  “No, you may not go through my things,” I tell her.

  “You have a nerve, young lady. A real nerve, you know that?”

  May presses her hand against my chest, pushing me back a few steps. “I’m sorry, why does my sister have ‘A real nerve?’”

  Diane laughs and sweeps her hair off her forehead with just her pinky finger. “Fay? Is that your name?”

  “You know my name is May, Diane,” May corrects her.

  “May, I suggest you mind your own business.”

  “August is my business, and you, I suggest you back the hell up.”

  “All right, all right, settle down, ladies,” Lenny speaks up. “Diane, let’s just take these boxes and sort through Keegan’s things at home.”

  “You can’t be serious, Lenny. Do you know how much of this apartment must be his? Our Keegan’s stuff,” she says, choking herself up
. She pulls a tissue out from the cuff of her sleeve and presses it up to her long, crooked, ruddy nose. Her head twists from side-to-side. “Our baby is gone.”

  “Your baby,” May says, stifling a snort. “I didn’t realize you gave birth to him. I wonder what his mother would think about that?”

  “She’s dead, ain’t she?” Lenny retorts.

  “Yes, so is your son.”

  Lenny breaks out into a fit of sobs, which seems out of character for someone who never showcases much emotion. He pinches the bridge of his nose and silently heaves through his pain. I want to offer my condolences, but I don’t know if I can muster the words. Lenny did nothing to protect Keegan from the turmoil he endured after Karen, his late wife, caused.

  “Look what you’ve done,” Diane snarls, pointing her forefinger between May’s eyes.

  “Look what I’ve done?” May replies, moving closer to Diane, unaffected by her attitude.

  “Do you have any clue what Keegan was responsible for?”

  “May,” I interrupt wherever she is about to add to this conversation.

  “No, August. You promised to protect Keegan, but I didn’t.”

  “May, please don’t,” I beg, grabbing her arm.

  “Your quote-unquote ‘son’ was a raging alcoholic who spent more of his time in a bar than he did at work or in this apartment. He had been in and out of AA ten times since he finished high school. You know you took care of him all that time?”

  “May,” I shout. “Stop it.”

  “No, I’m not going to watch this—this woman speak to you this way, not after you wasted your entire adult life caring for a man-child, too weak to help himself. Instead, he selfishly took his own life.”

  Now, I’m in tears from listening to the brutal truth—having it spelled out in front of me. “Please,” I beg May.

  “Keegan was not an alcoholic,” Diane says.

  “Yes, he was,” I scream at the top of my lungs. “He was always drunk. I told him I didn’t want to be with him anymore because he couldn’t get sober. So, you know what he did, Diane? He killed himself. Are you happy now?”

  I fall to my knees, feeling my chest cave in, my stomach churn, and my head throb. “It’s not true,” Lenny cries out. “You’re lying.”

  May runs into the kitchen and returns with an envelope. I didn’t know she knew what was in the envelope I left on the counter for the last couple of weeks.

  “Open this. Go ahead,” May says to Lenny. “Open it.”

  Lenny’s shaking hands fiddle with the flap of the envelope before he pries it open. As he peeks inside, his chest begins to heave again. He covers his downturned mouth with his other hand, shaking his head with sadness and disappointment.

  Only one of those chips has the number ninety-nine on it. The rest are thirty and sixties.

  “Can I read this note?” Lenny asks.

  I silently agree with a subtle nod. It’s Keegan’s suicide note.

  This truth will set me free in his eyes, but that’s only the surface layer of my pain.

  “Are you truly going to believe this trash?” Diane asks. “Coming from a woman who was drunk at your son’s funeral? Yes, we all knew, August.”

  Lenny ignores Diane as he reads Keegan’s words.

  “That’s not even his handwriting,” Diane adds in, peeking over Lenny’s shoulder. “And those chips are probably August’s AA chips.”

  “August doesn’t drink,” Lenny groans.

  Lenny knows, despite his lack of effort to be in Keegan’s life. I spent a lot of time in Keegan’s house when we were younger. Lenny knows I have spent my life trying to do good things, never falling off track ... until now.

  Lenny’s worst fear was Keegan following in his mother’s footsteps, so I tried to save him from living through that again.

  “This is my son’s handwriting, Diane,” Lenny growls with pain. “Go wait in the car.”

  “Lenny?” she snaps. “Don’t speak to me that way. I am just as torn up about Keegan’s death as you are.”

  “You don’t even know my son,” he replies. “I knew he was in trouble. I tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. This is my fault.”

  “What?” I ask, breathlessly.

  “He told me he was going down a dark path. He told me you were taking care of him, helping him get better. That was years ago, August. So, I told myself everything must be okay since he hadn’t spoken about the issue since then. I figured the less I knew, the better off I’d be. You know—ignorance is better than knowledge. I was selfish.”

  “No, you had already gone through hell after Karen’s death. It was too much. That’s why I tried to help him on my own. I didn’t know the disease was bigger than both of us.”

  “Don’t you see what she’s doing?” Diane says, throwing her arms up into the air. “She’s convincing you that this is your fault instead of hers, Lenny. She’s a real con-artist.”

  “Leave, Diane. Now,” Lenny yells again, pointing at the door. “Get out of my face.”

  Diane looks appalled and surprised to hear Lenny speaking to her the way he is. Honestly, I’ve never heard Lenny so much as raise his voice.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see May smirking at Diane. She moves past our huddle in the entryway hall and opens the front door. “Go on, now,” May says.

  “Do not tell me what to do,” Diane responds, sounding less inflated, less sure.

  “I can call the sheriff if you’d like?” I croak out. “Leave my apartment now.”

  “Shame on you, taking advantage of a weak man. Shame,” she seethes. “You’re the reason he’s dead, August. It will always be your fault.”

  I already tell myself this. I didn’t need to hear it aloud again.

  May lifts the first box and kicks it into the hallway. I don’t tell her to stop because there is nothing breakable inside the boxes.

  I make my way over to Lenny and wrap my arms around his neck. “I’m sorry I failed you—I failed Keegan.” I’m not sure what thoughts are going through Lenny’s head, but he doesn’t respond to my statement.

  By the time I release my arms from Lenny’s neck, May has gotten the last of the boxes out of the apartment. “Please leave,” she says.

  Lenny, with a look of silent horror, and Diane, with a scowl, walk out of the apartment. May closes the door and applies the locks.

  She takes me by the hand and pulls me over to the couch. “August, look at me.” I can’t. I can’t look anywhere but at the ground. “This is not your fault, and I will continue to tell you this until you believe me.”

  It’s better not to argue. It will prolong the visit and moments of trying to lift my burden.

  I’m not brave. I’m not courageous. I’m weak, and I gave up on someone who needed my help.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chance

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to having dinner with August tonight. I’ve been thinking about her a lot this past week and felt disappointed each night I didn’t see her at Kenny’s. Though, at the same time, I was glad she wasn’t there filling up on whiskey.

  I’ve been sitting here at the bar waiting for her to show up. It’s just after eight, and I’m starving. I sent her a message, asking if she’s still coming, but there was no response.

  Any level-headed person would have just eaten their damn burger by now, but I’ve been holding out hope that she had a last-minute thing at work and was running late.

  I promised myself if she didn’t show by eight-thirty, I’d order my dinner.

  Eight-twenty-five rolls around, and the door swings open. I casually glance over my shoulder to see who’s walking in, and I’m surprised to see her. I’m even more surprised to see the glassy look in her eyes, the stumble in her step, and the crooked path she’s walking in.

  August takes the seat next to me, releasing a loud sigh as she plops down. “Good Lord, what a day.”

  “Hey,” I say.

  “I am starving,” she continues. �
�Luke, could I have a Maker’s Mark on the rocks?”

  Luke’s focus zig-zags to mine. I can imagine what he thinks after a week has passed with no hint of August.

  He does what he’s supposed to and brings her the drink, placing it down on a cardboard coaster. “Can I get you something to eat?” Luke asks.

  “I’ll have the dry, dark burger,” she says, snickering.

  “Two, please,” I tell him.

  “No problem,” Luke replies, keeping quiet with his thoughts.

  “Have you been drinking?” I ask August.

  She lets out a loud yawn and stretches her arms out to the side. “Just a smidge,” she says, pinching her fingers together in front of her squinting eyes.

  “I thought—” I begin.

  “You thought wrong,” she corrects me.

  She is frustrating the hell out of me, but the problem seems to have grown bigger than she might realize, which is concerning. I miss the sober version of her. The only idea I have is to eat quickly and get her out of the bar before she ends up in a situation like she did last week.

  We’re finishing our burgers when she blurts out, “Keegan’s parents came to collect his things today and took the opportunity to layer on a little more blame—you know how it goes. It was a bad afternoon, and I’m fairly sure I’m about to get fired. So, yay me!”

  I figured something had happened. “I know why you think it’s all your fault, August, but it’s not the case.”

  “Whatever,” she says. “I’m the only one left to blame, you know?”

  “Keegan made his decision,” I remind her.

  “So had I.”

  She polished off her second drink just minutes after we finished eating. “Want to go somewhere?”

  She jitters her eyebrows and smirks. “I didn’t think you were like that, Chance Miller.”

  I nod at the door. “Come on. Come with me.”

  August stumbles from her seat, then loops her arm through mine. I lead the way out, waving a quick goodbye at Luke.

  “Good luck,” I hear faintly.

  We’re outside, and I take her to my truck. “I want to show you something.” She doesn’t show an ounce of concern when climbing into my truck. Maybe we’re past the point of her wondering if I’d hurt her.