The Missing Piece

by Jessica Baxter

  What am I going to do? How am I supposed to protect my mom when we’re thousands of miles apart?

  I hear my friends rushing to my side; they all talk over one another.

  “What happened?”

  “Em, are you okay?”

  “What is it?”

  I can’t speak. I can’t look at them. My worst fear has finally come true, my mother’s cancer is back and I can’t do anything to stop it.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  How my friends manage to get me out of Spirit Halloween and back into my dorm without my knowledge stumps me. I'm faintly aware of their concerned whispers as they shove me into my bed, but as much as I want to answer them, I can't. My mouth feels rough and dry like I just swallowed a spoonful of cinnamon. A twisting pain shoots through my body—my heart is numb and cold.

  I don't know what to do.

  Calliope, Liam and Danielle exchange worried glances, refusing to budge from the corner of my room. It's like they're afraid that if they come too close I might shatter and break.

  I feel broken.

  Ian is hovering over my bed, his hands stuffed in his pockets. His face contorted, his brows are furrowed, and he's biting his bottom lip.

  A sob rips through my chest.

  “Emily?” He asks, tentatively. My mattress shifts as he sits beside me; his back pressing against me. He reaches out and strokes my arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I shake my head no. The truth is I want to talk about it, but I can't get my brain to form the words I want to say. My body feels trapped . . . like I'm frozen in motion, watching everything going on around me, but unable to act for myself.

  A puppet, bending, and welding, with no freedom of choice.

  I am scared. I want to be back in Cedar Heights. I want to be there with my mom, and Sammy. Heck, I even want to be with my father and that's not normal. I want to tell them everything will be okay, even if it won’t.

  I bite my lip.

  Why can't I have a Fairy Godmother like Cinderella that will come and wish all my problems away?

  My eyes are heavy and sore, try as I might I can't fight sleep from enveloping me. It feels like only a few seconds pass when someone shakes me awake.

  “Emily?” Calliope stares down at me, then rubs my arm. “How are you doing?”

  I don't respond. Speaking will make this all real. It would mean accepting my mother's cancer is back, that it has spread and the doctors don't know if there's anything they can do.

  I am not ready to accept that.

  She glances worriedly at Danielle, who then steps forward.

  “We're here if you want to talk or not talk.” She says, ruffling my hair like I'm a child, a slight smile on her face. “Don't push us away, Em.”

  My lips won't open, and even if they did would I even know what to say? I bit my lip and slightly nod my head.

  Around six, one by one, my friends slowly file out of my room. They give me apologetic glances as they leave. I don't blame them. I haven't moved an inch since they brought me back from Spirit Halloween. My back is stiff from lying in the same position for the past three hours. I slowly push myself up until I'm sitting.

  It startles me to find Ian sitting in my pink mushroom chair in the corner of my room. He stops flipping through the Disney Mania magazine he's holding and looks up. Ian smiles at me, the corners of his mouth twisting into a crooked grin. My insides twist like licorice.

  “Hey.”

  “Hi.” I pull my knees up to my chest. “Thanks for staying.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, slowly, guarded, before walking over to my bed and tentatively sitting down.

  I nod, slowly and then take a deep breath.

  “My mother was diagnosed with stage four melanoma skin cancer my junior year,” I say, in one gigantic breath. “Over the summer she had surgery and the doctors were able to remove the tumor, but now it's back and it's spread and they're not sure what—“

  My voice falters. Ian wraps his arm around my shoulder and I lean into him. “It's okay. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want too.”

  “I want too, it's just . . .” I take a deep breath.

  “Hard?”

  I nod at him. “I thought it was gone for sure, you know?”

  “I'm so sorry, Emily. “ He pulls me closer to him, hugging me tightly against his body.

  The air feels thick around me, it presses against my lungs. “He won’t let me see my mom.”

  Ian looks at me incredulously. “Who?”

  “My dad.”

  Sometimes he can be a downright pain in the ass. Money is tight, my butt. He's acting like he's not completely loaded, and even if he wasn't, it's not like my grandpa would mind covering a ticket. My dad is just being a selfish dick.

  “What? Why?” Ian asks.

  His face is a mixture of confusion and shock. His forehead is scrunched together like he's trying to figure out how a father could possibly want to keep his daughter away.

  “He’s always been this way.” My head drops in my hands, making my voice come out muffled. “It’s his way of staying in control.”

  “But, how can he keep you from your mom? She needs you!”

  ”He wants to keep me from mom because he knows that's where I want to be.” I look up at Ian, digging my nails into the palm of my hand. “He won't fly me home to see her until Thanksgiving break.”

  “But that's a month away! Won’t she ask your dad to send for you?” He asks, gesturing wildly with his free hand like a chimpanzee at the zoo. “Would he really say no to her with the condition she’s in?”

  “You don’t understand.” I shake my head, sadly. “She won’t disobey my father.”

  “Disobey your father?” Ian's face contorts. He clenches his hand into a fist and then slowly relaxes his fingers. “Doesn't she get a say in what happens?”

  “No . . . not really.” I bit my lip, tears silently rolling down my face.

  Guilty. I feel awful like I’m betraying a top-secret piece of information that will doom the whole world if it gets in the wrong hands.

  Ian squeezes my shoulder, pulling me against him. “Why doesn’t your mum leave him?”

  “I-I think she’s afraid of being alone.”

  What I don’t admit aloud is how much this terrifies me too. I think that’s why I stuck with Mason for so long . . . I’d rather have someone belittle me and treat me like dirt, than not have anyone care at all. That must be how my mom feels too when it comes to my dad.

  Ian grabs my hand, pulling it away from my lap. His voice is almost a whisper. “Let’s runaway. Your mom, you, me and Sammy. We’ll backpack through England. I’ll show you all my favorite spots and we won’t have to worry about any of this.”

  My heart soars in my chest. Maybe I don't have a Fairy Godmother like Cinderella, but having Ian here with me now, makes me think someone or something in the universe is out there, looking out for me. I can't meet his gaze as I reply, but I hope he knows how much he means to me at this moment.

  “That would be wonderful.”

  We sit like that for a while, my head resting on his shoulder, his head resting against my bed frame. His thumb draws circles slowly on the back of my hand. It takes all of my will power to control the urge to reach my lips to his.

  Is he fighting the urge to kiss me too?

  I turn my head to glance at him. His eyes are closed, again; his breathing slow and steady. He looks like a Norse God. “Ian?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What's going on with Sophie?”

  Pain flashes across his face. He's uncomfortable. “Did you hear everything?”

  I study his face, before answering. He looks tired and unhappy. I don't want to make his life any more complicated by rehashing everything I overheard between him and Liam. Even if I really want too. Right now, neither of us is in a place to start a new relationship and with everything that's going on, we could both use a friend.

  I keep my e
xpression neutral. “No. I just caught the mention of Sophie as I was leaving to meet up with Danielle and Calliope.”

  He nods his head, relieved. His arms drop to his sides.

  I can't bring myself to say the Evil Queen's name, not in here, not now. This seems too sacred like this time and place has been made just for us. “If she's holding something over you. Why are you still with her?”

  His shoulders sag. “You must think me mad.”

  “I don't think you're mad.” My voice is soft, barely a whisper. “I just—I want to understand, so I can help you.”

  He won't look at me. I touch his cheek, turning his face towards me. He reaches for my hand, clasping our fingers together.

  I sigh. I wish we held hands more often.

  Sammy flashes in my mind. He's kind and sweet and never afraid to tell those around him that he cares. Why does growing up change this? Why can't we hold hands the way we did when we were kids and let our friends know they don't have to carry their burdens alone? Sometimes all you need is someone to grab your hand and not let go.

  “Sophie's always been beautiful,” he says, taking a deep breath. “But girls can be ruthless and cruel. One girl in her grade was always mocking Sophie and her best friend Poppy because they liked to do things differently than the other girls in London. My sister and her friend decided to add their own flair to everything they did, instead of conforming to the trends set by Molly, who thought she ran the school.”

  Ian's face pales. His look sets my nerves on edge and causes the hair on my arms to rise.

  “Shortly after Sophie turned 12, Poppy's dad got a new job in America and they moved. She was heartbroken. Molly saw my sister's weakness and took advantage of it. She pretended to be Sophie's friend and made her feel like she was a part of her inner circle. At the beginning of summer, Molly invited Sophie to her house for a slumber party. Sophie was thrilled. I dropped her off at 8, only to have her call me sobbing thirty minutes later that she wanted to come home.”

  Ian pauses. I squeeze his hand. “It's okay if you don't want to talk about it.”

  His voice cracks. “No, it's okay. I just haven't talked about it since—well it's been a while.”

  He forms a fist with his free hand.

  “When I got back to Molly's flat, Sophie was standing outside, her dress torn and she was crying uncontrollably. I rushed to her side, gave her my jacket and asked what happened. She told me Molly and her friends pinned her down, tore her dress and called her Chubby Tubbster as they marked her stomach, thighs, and arms with giant X's. I—“

  His voice falters. He looks so sad and lost that I want more than anything to wrap my arms tightly around him and promise everything is going to be okay. I squeeze his hand, reminding him he's not alone.

  He clears his throat and then continues. “I was furious and ready to give them hell, but Soph begged I'd take her home and made me swear not to tell mum and dad. I've never felt more like a failure as a big brother.”

  “It's not your fault, Ian.”

  I'm not sure if he hears me or not. He shakes his head like he's trying to rid himself of the guilt he feels.

  “I wish I would have known how badly those girls would affect Soph. How they would fill her with bitterness and self-loathing.” His voice breaks. I don't look at his face, but it sounds like he's crying. “They made her think she was worthless, that if she didn't look like them she wouldn't matter.”

  He stares across the room. I wait to see if he's going to say anything else, when he doesn't I ask, “What happened?”

  “Three weeks passed, she seemed to be doing better; she was happier and spent all her free time outside the house. Then one Friday I found her passed out in her room, barely breathing.”

  Ian glances at me and sighs.

  The tone in his voice changes. His voice becomes so soft, I have to strain to hear him. “Sophie has good days where she'll eat and it seems like she's making progress and will finally be able to leave Nightingale's, but then she relapses. She's been in the hospital for two years.”

  “I'm so sorry Ian!” I bury myself into his chest, squeezing myself tightly against him.

  He squeezes back just as tightly. “Sophie didn't want any of the girls at school to find out, especially Molly. She thought if Molly found out she would hold it over her and never let Sophie out of her grasp.”

  I nod my head, knowing all too well how vicious and merciless girls can be. Before my standoff with Sarah this year, I faced my own Barbie-doll Demon: Brenda Jones. She was mean and cruel and made fun of me every chance she got.

  “Sophie convinced my parents to tell everyone, even her best friend, that she was coming to America to study abroad like me. Nightingale Hospital allows her to come home and visit around Christmas, so no one's ever questioned it. Until last Christmas when Sarah came home; On Boxing Day she followed mum and dad as they dropped Sophie back off at Nightingale's. I tried breaking up with her after we ran into each other in the park, but she threatened to tell everyone at Sophie's school about Sophie if I did.”

  My heart wretches.

  Poor Sophie!

  I clench my teeth. I hate Sarah. I'm fighting every urge to grab an Uber and knockdown Sarah's door. Why is she doing this to Ian?

  Around eight, Ian leaves my room with the promise of pizza and a movie upon his return. I slowly roll off of my bed and stare at my disheveled reflection. My hair is sticking out in every direction possible making it look like a messy lion’s mane, my eyes are puffy and red and mascara streaks run down my face from all of the crying I’ve done.

  I cannot believe I let Ian see me like this. I shake my head. Maybe a shower will help me feel better. I need to calm my nerves. His being here when he doesn’t have too is making things a lot more complicated than I can handle right now.

  My phone buzzes on my desk, but I ignore it. I can’t handle any more bad news today. I just need a break from the world and a few minutes to myself so I can learn to breathe again. I gather my OSU sweats, a baggy sweatshirt with Ariel and Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid, and head to the community bathroom to take a shower.

  The bathroom feels calming and comforting, despite the empty stalls and the eerie wave of quietness. I walk towards the showers against the back wall and start placing my toiletries, towel, and clothes neatly on the bench before adjusting the water to the perfect temperature. Steam rises above the shower reminding me of smoke rising from a campfire and I slither inside.

  The water slowly pelts my skin like a drummer keeping time in 4/4. I step back and let the warm water rush over my head, body and then let it engulf me entirely. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths; everything is going to be okay. The water trickles down my back calming my nerves. I stand in the shower a little longer, just letting the warmth close around me, before turning the shower off and getting dressed.

  I’m just about to walk out of the bathroom when I hear raised voices in the hallway. Ian’s beautiful accent argues back and forth with Sarah. I let the door slide shut and gently press my ear against it.

  “Why haven’t you been answering my calls? I’ve been trying to reach you all day,” she asks.

  Ian’s voice is soft, strained. “Emily just found out her mum’s . . . .look, her mum’s really sick and she needed someone to be with her . . . I couldn’t just leave her alone."

  “And it just had to be you?” Sarah spits back. “I told you how important tonight was to me, and then you just stay in with her? I’m supposed to be your girlfriend, or did you forget that?”

  “Sarah, please . . .” Ian says. I imagine him running his fingers through his hair. “Let’s not do this here . . . this has nothing to do with Emily.”

  “This has everything to do with her,” Sarah says, her voice dropping until it's cold and ruthless. I glance behind me at the bathroom window. Maybe, I should walk away from Wonder Boy before Sarah turns into the Queen of Hearts and yells, off with her head!

  “Please,” Ian says, again. “L
et’s go somewhere else and talk things through.”

  “No.” Her voice is full of venom. I picture her eyes narrowed, her arms crossed against her chest as she walks slowly towards Ian. A viper getting ready to strike. “Maybe I should just give Molly a call, let her know how Sophie is doing.”

  “Leave Sophie out of this!” Ian growls. “She’s done nothing to you . . . why can’t you just leave her out of this?”

  Sarah laughs viciously, mimicking Ian. “Leave Sophie out of this! God, you are pathetic. Maybe I would be better off without you, but. . . then again I do like watching you squirm.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Ian asks. He sounds so hurt.

  I shift against the door, my fingers gripping the handle. Adrenaline is pounding through me, and I want nothing more than to punch Sarah in the face. My mind is screaming at me to run away, but my heart tells me to stand my ground and fight. I am sick of being pushed around and used. Snow White defeated the Evil Queen and found her happily ever after, so what’s stopping me from doing the same?

  I take a deep breath, bracing myself, to push the door open and put a stop to all this madness. I open the door a crack and see Sarah slowly walking towards Ian, she leans in and whispers in his ear.

  Her words make the hair on my arms rise. “When are you going to realize that if I can’t have you nobody can?”

  Ian’s face falls. “Sarah, please . . .”

  “God, what do I have to do to get this little homewrecker to crawl back to Hicksville? I thought I made myself pretty clear . . . but it seems she could use another reminder.”

  I hear footsteps crossing in front of the bathroom door and I leap back, certain Sarah is coming to pound me to oblivion.

  “You’re not going in there.” Ian sounds angry.

  “Move!” Sarah demands like she’s a drill sergeant barking out orders. “I’m going to give this two-faced, back-stabbing bitch a piece of my mind.”

  “Stop calling her that,” Ian says.

  “Aw, I’m sorry. Don’t like your new girlfriend’s name?”