Shards of My Heart (The Forgotten Ones Book 2)

by Nellie K Neves

  Just a bad day.

  Suds curl up my arms as I scrub each of the dishes, drowning ants with the ferocity of a serial killer as I find them. But simultaneously, I’m wondering if it has a family and whether they’re heartbroken that Antony Ant never came home.

  Oh, that’s a bad cliff to jump off of.

  My phone rings, and I grab for it with sudsy hands. Zane’s name lights up the screen and for a second, I consider how lucky I am to be a backwoods farm girl from Ridgedale with a movie star calling her from LA. But as I swipe to accept the call, it drops.

  Phones don’t float.

  It glows for a second before it all goes black.

  “No,” I groan out the word as I fish for the smartphone where it’s drifted under the soaking pots. “No, no, no, no.”

  I fish it out, dripping water from every crack and crevice. There isn’t enough rice in all of China to dry it out. But I’ll hate myself if I don’t try. Without much hope, I cut open a bag and shove the phone in deep. I desert it there amidst the remaining ants, dishes and broken dreams before I head for a couch.

  I’m like this house. I try to have hope. I try to improve, but I have too many cracks, too many broken places where defeat, aggravation and depression creeps in, and just as many places where optimism, hope and courage slip out.

  Before I collapse onto the couch, I glance out the window. Oliver has his favorite hen on his lap, feeding her from his hand. With his other hand he rubs her black feathers and sings her a song. It’s faint, but I know it’s the lullaby I’ve sung him since he was born.

  `I may be a cracked house, but that boy is whatever holds this house together. There’s a brief moment where I hope that wasn’t Zane calling me to say he’s being booked for some indiscretion from his past life, but even that can’t stand up against the exhaustion of this day.

  Five minutes. I just need five minutes to sleep.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “Mama,” Oliver’s voice cuts into my dreams, “mama, I can fine nit.”

  “What, Sweetheart?” I ask before my eyes are open. “What’d you lose?”

  “My fwend,” he says with the sadness only a four-year-old understands. “He gone.”

  I jar my head to try to pull some sense into my brain. The sun is gone. The clock on the microwave says six, but I can’t figure on morning or night.

  “Mama,” Oliver’s voice turns whiny with impatience, “my fwend. Where he go?”

  “Honey, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Mama’s waking up. Give me a second.”

  His face erupts into a pout with thick lips and a scrunched brow. “No, fine a wizard now.”

  That’ll wake a mother up.

  “Find what? A lizard?”

  Oliver’s face explodes to a smile. “My fwend. I catcha wizard.” He takes my hand and yanks as if he can pull me from the couch. “Come a see, mama.”

  With growing apprehension, I follow him to his room. I’m doing math in my head. I slept for two hours. I left my nearly four-year-old son alone for two hours while I slept on the couch. He’s built a city out of boxes, short ones on the bottom, tall on top. I rub my face like this should all be a dream, but it’s not. I slept through my son building a lizard metropolis in his room. He’s even drawn with markers on the cardboard, some ancient lizard language only Oliver understands.

  A box rattles, and I jerk back, pulling Oliver with me. “I think I found your friend, Oli.”

  Unfettered, Oliver unlinks himself from my grasp. “No, dats his odder fwend. My fwend is gone.”

  Sleep is fading and reason is winning, though I don’t like the results. “How many lizards did you bring inside?”

  In response, two more boxes shake as the inhabitants become impatient. Oliver holds up his full hand and says, “Dis many, Mama.”

  “And one is gone?”

  “Yes.” His bottom lip falls out and even though I can’t believe he brought five lizards into my house, I can’t help but feel bad for him.

  “We need to get these out, Oli. Lizards live outside.”

  “An den we find my fwend.”

  This day won’t stop trying to destroy me. First the spiders, then Jennie, then the ants, and my phone, and now a lizard infestation. As I carry the boxes outside, whimpering every time they shake because Leroy Lizard inside is getting antsy, I pray tomorrow will be better.

  With lizards one through four outside, and Oliver’s tearful goodbyes passed, we pull apart his room trying to find the last one. I check behind the dresser, under the bed, behind his toy box, on every inch of his bookshelf. I’m beginning to imagine waking up to a lizard on my face about to bite my nose.

  I can’t.

  I can’t live with a lizard.

  “What did he look like?” I ask Oli from the disaster that is now his bedroom. “Brown? Or grey?”

  “Wike a wizard,” he says like it should be enough.

  Helpful.

  Maybe it’ll climb out a window or die in a closet.

  Not likely.

  I’ve never been that lucky.

  My skin crawls with thoughts of all the places the dang reptile could hide.

  The doorbell rings. I’m torn between following social protocol and leaving my son alone with the missing lizard, which has fangs and poisonous venom in my mind because my anxiety is in full swing. By now it could be anywhere. Who knows when Oliver lost it? It’s not easy keeping track of five wizards at once.

  The bell rings again, four times in a row. “I’ll be right back. Stand on this.” I flip over his toy bucket. “Hot lava on the floor.”

  “Da lava get my fwend, Mama!” Oliver yells as I leave the room. His cries follow me down the hall. They rattle through my brain and twist around my heart, tightening until I can hardly breathe.

  I can’t. I can’t do this. I have nothing left.

  I take a breath and yank open the door just as Zane presses the doorbell again. It rings overhead and his grin goes sheepish. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure it worked.”

  He’s wearing a button down and slacks, complete with a tie and suit coat. A pocket square peeks from his jacket, silver, just enough to make his eyes bluer than normal. He’s carrying two bags of fried chicken and a jug of root beer from The Chicken Shack in town. He shakes them once, but I passed dazed about two catastrophes ago.

  “You got your license back?” I’m wearing holey jeans and a shirt that’s two sizes too big from one of Mona’s fun runs. It’s orange. I’m a gigantic, saggy pumpkin, and he’s a movie star.

  “I did,” he says. “And guess what? The first thing I wanted to do was come here. I have to run lines with Tabitha later, but I got off the plane, begged a car off Wilbur, picked up dinner, and here I am. Not scoring blow, not even a drink, but coming to see my favorite two people.”

  I think I’m processing every third word. Oliver is still wailing in the background. Zane glances over my shoulder because he can hear it. For the first time, I think he sees me. Hair a mess, life in shambles, child distraught—this is the real me.

  He’s going to run.

  “Is this a bad time?” he asks with genuine concern. “I tried to call you from LA, but you didn’t pick up.”

  “I dropped my phone in the dishwater,” I say with disconnected feeling. “It’s in a bag of rice.”

  “Mama!” Oliver screams and my heart hits the gas. I know one cry from the next, and that’s his scared cry. Without thinking, I turn and run for the bedroom just as another “Mama!” shatters the air.

  Oliver is still perched on his toy box, sobbing huge tears as a lizard darts behind a plastic tub. I freeze in the doorway because my mind won’t process what’s happening.

  “Da wava, Mama! Da wava!”

  Every cry shreds my psyche. Bags rustle behind me as Zane sets the food on the table. I pin my hands over my ears, trying to make sense of what’s happening. Fear has a death grip on me. It makes more sense to burn the house down at this point. If I could remember where I put the matches, I�
��d start it right now.

  The lizard scurries toward his bed and I shriek. Footfalls echo through the house, ten before Zane is at my side. Without another thought, Zane grabs an empty toy tub and slams it over the lizard. Oliver screams again.

  “Da wava!”

  Somehow Zane knows exactly what Oliver is talking about and jumps up onto his bed. “Thanks dude, I didn’t know it was lava.”

  “Da wizard,” Oliver points at his friend trapped in the box. “He’s dying!”

  Zane’s hands shoot up to stop him. “No, this is an ice box, buddy. It freezes the lava underneath. He’s safe now.”

  Tangible relief floods my son’s face, and I realize my mistake. I told him hot lava. His imagination got the best of him and became real fear.

  I did this.

  I take Oliver’s hand and pull him to me as Zane pulls on his lava proof boots with dramatic flair. “Oli, there’s no lava. It was a game mama was playing. I’m sorry I scared you.”

  Red still stains his cheeks from where the hot tears burned over his skin. I put them there. I caused this whole mess. Using my palm, I wipe them back.

  Zane uses a piece of discarded cardboard to capture the lizard before he says, “Oliver, your friend told me he needs to go home. His family misses him. Can you help me take him out?”

  First to forgive, the best at moving on, Oliver jumps to his feet, drags the back of his sleeve across his snotty nose and grabs the edge of the box to help Zane. I watch them go, realizing again how much Oliver is missing not having a father in his life.

  I’m not crazy, I know Zane isn’t that guy, and I know I’m in no shape to start looking for someone, but it doesn’t stop the ache. Or the regret.

  Chapter 11

  I sort through Oliver’s room while they eat dinner at the table. Zane tells him monkey stories and my son giggles until root beer comes out his nose. Oliver tells him his favorite parts of the movie and tries to get him to act them out. There’s action sequence sounds and laughter, and my guilt at how much I have failed in one day. It’s a new record for me.

  “Zane,” Oliver says, and it perks my attention because he’s only ever called him by his screen name.

  “Yeah, buddy, what’s up?” Zane asks.

  If I lean forward, I can see Zane at the table. He’s wiping his fingers clean of grease and waiting on Oliver’s next question like he’s doing a live interview.

  “You come a my burday pawdy?” Oliver asks.

  Oh, the innocence. It’s not much of a party. Me, Mona and the other two ladies in my life. Cake and ice cream, I think. The few presents I can afford. Thankfully, Oliver doesn’t know any better. He’s never had any better.

  “I’d love to. Is it soon?” Oliver must point to the calendar on the wall because Zane says, “Oh yeah. Look at that, on Tuesday. The big four, huh?”

  “Zane?” Oliver says again. Zane turns to look at him again, clearly attentive with raised eyebrows as if he can’t wait to hear what comes next. “Aw you my dad?”

  Zane’s face melts to shock. “No, buddy, I’m your mom’s friend, from work.”

  “Okay,” I can hear Oliver’s disappointment. “Do you know where my dad is?”

  Zane’s gaze cuts across the living room to find me in the bedroom. Like Jennie Baker, he has no idea how to answer him. There’s a silent plea for rescue.

  “Oli!” I call from his bedroom, letting my head rock back out of view to slam against the closet doors. “Oli, come put on your pajamas.”

  “Yes, mama!” Oliver calls back. To Zane he says, “I needa go. Bwing a pwesent at my burday pawdy, okay?”

  “Yeah,” Zane says, still stunned. “I’ll do that.”

  Oliver covers the space between us in just moments and throws his arms around my neck with giggles and kisses. Still, I’m not his father and I have to wonder if I’ll ever be enough on my own.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “Is he asleep?” Zane asks as I close the door behind me and step into the dark hall.

  “Went out like a light,” I say in a hushed tone. “I should probably follow suit.”

  “You still haven’t eaten anything,” Zane says.

  “Single mom diet,” I tell him. “It’s how we all stay so trim.”

  “It’s called starving yourself. There are centers designed to stop that kind of thinking,” Zane says as I start for the kitchen.

  “Do they let you sleep? I could practice eating if it came with naps. Or a foot rub.”

  He’s not going to let me deflect, and he shakes his head at my sarcasm.

  “It’s been a hard day, Zane. I don’t have an appetite.” I flip off the light over the sink so that just the dining room light is on. No need to pay extra for electricity we don’t need.

  My kitchen island cracks a little as he leans against it. “What happened?”

  I shake my head because my whining is the last thing he needs at the end of his long day. “I’ll get over it. I always do.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” Zane says. “You’ve been crying all day. I can tell. Maybe it would do some good to talk about it.”

  “It’s stupid.” I say, but he inches closer and nudges me to urge me on. “Fine, there was a nest of spiders in those bags you gave me. Oliver brought in five reptiles while I fell asleep on the couch. The preschool teacher accused Oliver of both brain damage and being sadistic, not sure how that works out. Oh, and my kitchen is covered in cinnamon because ants invaded, and I gave up.”

  “That at least explains my craving for apple pie,” Zane says with a gentle grin.

  I laugh, but it’s not strong enough, and the laughter melts into tears. I cover my face and press my fingertips into my eyes as if I can stop up the dam. “It’s been one of those days.”

  One look, even in dim light, tells me he’s not convinced, but at least I gave him something. “Maybe it’s going around. Court was pretty miserable too.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s stupid,” he steals my words from earlier but adds a grin so I know he’s teasing.

  I shove him, but he catches my hand and links our fingers, careful to watch my face for my reaction. “This got me through though, I’m not even exaggerating.”

  His touch wakes me up, pulls me out of the fog I’m feeling. Even after he drops his grip, all I want is to pull him back.

  “There were three people waiting to press charges. It’s all for the cameras, but it doesn’t matter. They had proof, I did it all. I don’t remember it, too wasted, but hard to deny videos.” The weight of it all pulls on him as he sighs. “Two were kind of frivolous. I skipped out on a bill, and I backed into a car with a golf cart. I didn’t even dent it, but since I puked on video after getting out of the cart, it’s a little condemning. My lawyer tried to argue that I had a concussion, but the judge ruled in their favor. Five thousand dollars for each of those. But the last one was a video of me attacking the same golf cart with a nine iron.”

  “Well clearly it couldn’t reverse correctly,” I say.

  “That’s what I should have led with,” Zane says. “I was trying to align the steering column.”

  “What’d that set you back?”

  “Twenty thousand,” Zane says. “The guy is willing to wait for the movie to close so I can pay him.”

  “Benevolent.”

  “But I hear he sold the video to the media for forty grand, so that should tide him over for a bit.”

  We’re dancing around the real problem here, and my time is running out.

  “Did you hear Oliver earlier?”

  “Yes,” I say. “He had a rough day too. Learned everyone has a dad but him. Well, both of us, but I didn’t tell him that yet.”

  “What are you going to tell him?”

  That same helpless cracked foundation feeling from before settles over me. “I don’t know. If I tell him his dad used to beat me just shy of death, it’ll give him nightmares. If I lie and tell him his dad is dead, he’ll find out one day that he’s n
ot. If I tell him his dad signed away his parental rights like he was buying a sports car, he’ll be crushed.”

  “It was that bad?” With deep caution, Zane reaches toward my face, and for once I don’t pull back. His thumb lights up the skin around my scar. I never did get it stitched. “That’s why you’re good at makeup, isn’t it?”

  “I had to hide in plain sight.”

  “And today you felt exposed.”

  I can’t sit still. I push away from the counter, pacing the floor, shaking my hands out because the ants are back, and they’re under my skin. “It’s more than that. It’s realizing that what I’ve known all along was true. I stayed in this house day after day telling myself I was alone. I told myself if anyone knew the pain or danger I was in, they’d do something. They’d reach out. But today I figured out my worst fear was true. They all knew and did nothing. They left me here to die, and they did nothing.”

  Every word is choked with my tears. I’m yelling without any respect for the fact that my son is trying to sleep. I cover my mouth, but I fall forward into my knees, crouched on the floor as the weight of what I survived falls on me.

  “I was living in a nightmare. My only relief came when he was gone. Even then, I counted down the days until he returned.”

  I pull my hair back and twist so he can see my neck. “See this here? He wrapped his necktie around me until I couldn’t breathe, and then pulled it free so fast it tore my skin. Or this one,” I pull up my sleeve and show a lump in my arm. “He twisted my arm behind my back so hard once that he fractured it. I had to wait for his permission before I went to the hospital. It took four days, and by then it had started healing wrong.”

  I haven’t shocked him, not that it’s my goal, but I always imagined these secrets, some that even Mona doesn’t know, would scare someone away, but Zane listens without judgement.

  “And today, I had to deal with someone from high school, of all places, looking down on me because Oliver doesn’t know who his dad is. Between that and the ants and the spiders, and drowning my phone—”

  “Don’t forget the lizard,” Zane adds, likely because he’s the one who had to capture it.