All Our Broken Pieces

by L. D. Crichton

  “You stole a car this morning,” Hudson says flatly. “Tell me why you shouldn’t be arrested.”

  “I can’t tell you that. I can’t even tell you I wouldn’t do the same thing over again.” My eyes drift to the side until my vision settles on Kyler, who is leaning against the hood of the police car with his hand behind his neck, as though he’s been rubbing stress from it.

  “You’re in a lot of trouble with your father,” he states. “You should apologize for stealing his car. He’s obviously not pressing charges.”

  “I wouldn’t care if he did,” I say, even though that’s untrue.

  He shakes his head as though I’m a repeat offender, a career criminal he encounters often and not a teenage girl in love. It doesn’t matter, though—I spent the afternoon with Kyler and I refuse to let anything, especially an encounter with a cop, ruin it.

  Kyler sits in the back of the police cruiser when the officer opens the door and says, “Get in and watch your head.” I do, and as we drive back to Bel Air, the tips of Kyler’s fingers settle on mine and tap. Five times.

  It took an hour to get here, but it takes almost two to get home. Traffic is congested the entire way up the interstate, but I don’t mind. I close my eyes and feel Kyler’s fingertips against my skin. Once we are driving and blocked in with the security bars between the front of the car and the back, the frequent dryer sheet smell is there full force, only now it’s paired with the smell of the ocean. The real one.

  When we enter Bel Air, I sigh and give Kyler’s hand a squeeze.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he says. “They can’t stop us.”

  “No,” I agree. “They can’t.”

  The cruiser parks at the end of the drive, an equal distance between the Benton’s house and mine. Officer Hudson opens my door while Officer Lewis extends the same courtesy to Kyler. They motion for us to get out of the vehicle, and as Lewis grips his forearm, Kyler turns and says, “It’s not over, Lennon. Hold on to that.”

  I smile because I believe him.

  Hudson raps on the front door with his knuckles, and it swings open to reveal my father. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair in disarray. The corner of his button-up shirt is untucked from his belt, and his tie is loosened around his neck. He scowls and doesn’t even wait for Officer Hudson to leave before he lays into me. “What the hell were you thinking, Lennon?” He waves his hands. “You know what, don’t answer that. You weren’t thinking. What you did was stupid. It was dangerous.”

  Jacob’s eyes peer around from the hallway corridor.

  “You know what’s stupid, Dad?” I shoot back. “Living your life in a bubble because of some ridiculous brain defect that tries to make you question your sanity. You know what else is stupid? Trying to keep two people from each other who need to be together.”

  “Give me a break,” Dad says. “You don’t need to be with anyone. What you need is a swift kick in the ass if you think this kind of behavior is acceptable. You stole my car, for Christ’s sake. What you need is to deal with your obsessive-compulsive disorder in a way that is productive in helping you move forward with your life. What you need is to grieve the loss of your mother and to become a member of this family. What you don’t need is the boy next door to make you feel whole.”

  I look at him as though he’s sprouted a second head. “Maybe I’m not the only one who needs my head checked, Dad.” My voice elevates, the pitch rising in irritation. “What you need, Dad, is to learn about OCD and stop trying to know me through Dr. Linderman. What you need is a little compassion. What you need, Dad,” I practically spit, “is to open your damned eyes to the fact that Andrea is a vile, wretched bitch who could rival any of the villains on her mother’s daytime soap opera. What you need is to understand that you can’t stop me from seeing him, I don’t care what you do. I’ll steal your car a thousand times if I have to. I’ll go back to that stupid school, I’ll be normal, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “You will not be seeing Kyler Benton.”

  “Oh yes,” I say, “I will.”

  Jacob steps forward from his hiding spot in the hallway. “Lennon, are you okay?”

  “Go to your room, Jake,” Dad orders.

  Jacob shakes his head in defiance. “Don’t make Lennon sad, Daddy. That’s not fair.”

  “Jacob,” my dad warns, “this is none of your business.”

  I glare at my father. “What you need is to understand that Kyler didn’t expose my OCD on Facebook. I know you don’t believe that, but it’s true.”

  “You can’t prove that,” my father says.

  Jacob’s voice is hardly a whisper. “I can.”

  “Jacob,” Dad says again. “Keep your nose out of it. Go and find your mother.”

  I look at Jacob. “It’s okay, buddy.”

  He crosses his arms over his chest and gives my father his best threatening glare. “It’s not okay. Kyler didn’t do that. Andi did.”

  The tension hanging in the air bursts as both my father and I stop. I crouch down to look at Jacob. “What are you talking about, Jake?”

  He brings his hand from its hiding spot behind his back to reveal his camera. “I have it on video.”

  Jacob’s room is covered in paper airplanes. It’s work not to step on them as we make our way to his small computer. He takes a power cord from the side and plugs it into the camera, and a window appears on the screen, populating all the pictures and videos he’s taken. He double-clicks on one of them and we all fall silent.

  Andrea is sitting on her bed in a silk robe with sponges between her toes while she coats them in a pale shade. Jacob’s camera was clearly hidden, because the angle is skewed and makes it hard to see, but the audio is crystal clear. Andrea is speaking into the phone that sits perched on a pillow beside her.

  “He thinks her idiot boyfriend did it,” Andrea is saying. She smirks, even though the person on the other end of the phone can’t see her. “Gullible. Even better, they’re forbidden from seeing each other.”

  The voice on the other end of the line says, “How did you get into his Facebook?” I’m not sure whose voice it is, but that is not important.

  “Pft, please,” Andrea says in the video. “You know Liam’s brilliant with that stuff, right? He’s like a hacker. Facebook log-in is child’s play.”

  “Wow,” the voice says. “That’s twisted, but well done.”

  “I know,” Andrea admits. “Seriously, it was bad enough that all my parents see is her, I didn’t need to have the fact that she’s sooo in love thrown in my face.”

  My dad shifts uncomfortably, heads to the door of Jacob’s room, and calls for Claire.

  Random Thoughts of a Random Mind

  MY DAD WASN’T HOME WHEN the cops delivered me. Good thing, too, because I think it’d be hard to see my notebook with a pair of black eyes. He’s never actually hit me, but he’s come close in belittling episodes where he likes to remind me what a disappointment I am. There’s a first time for everything, and having a legit criminal as a son could prompt that side of him to explode. My mom sat me down at the table and told me I shouldn’t be skipping school. More important, she told me, if Lennon was worth this much trouble, she’d help me any way she could. I told her she might start with keeping all this to herself—that is, my police escort and the tow bill to bring my car home.

  I wonder how much trouble Lennon is in. She is now guilty of grand theft auto, a crime she committed to see me, so I’m sure in Josh’s eyes it’s my fault.

  I alternate between working on her song, the one that’s been haunting me for ages, and staring at my phone, waiting for her to text, until something catches my eye as it heads across the yard.

  It’s Josh.

  I set my pencil on my notebook and stand. My dad still isn’t home, and if Josh is going to scream at someone, I can’t let it be my mother, so I make quick work of the stairs. I’m at the bottom and have the door open, just as Josh is raising his hand to knock. He looks shocked to see me. A little odd
, considering he’s the one standing on my front porch and not the other way around.

  I don’t say hello. I raise an eyebrow.

  “Do you mind stepping outside for a moment?” he asks.

  The raised eyebrow inches even farther up my face. “What?”

  “I’d like to talk to you for a moment.”

  “You want to talk?”

  “Yes.”

  I can’t help it. I’m a skeptic. “Why outside?”

  Josh clears his throat. “I’ve recently discovered that I owe you an apology.”

  “You’re not here to kick my ass because your daughter stole your wheels and went against everything you specifically prohibited her from doing?”

  Josh shakes his head. “I’m civilized, believe it or not.”

  I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my gaze. I’ll believe it. I wave a hand at the door. “After you.”

  “Jacob presented me with some hard evidence that clears your name in the entire Facebook debacle, so I’ll apologize, man-to-man. I was wrong. I chose not to believe my wife’s child would do something that horrible to my own. The only other person who knew Lennon and her struggles, or would have access to that kind of information, is you. It was easy to blame you, and I was wrong to do so. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say. “I get it. I want to protect Lennon, too. Shit happens, but so do everyday freaking miracles, and she can’t go through life without experiencing both.”

  Josh smirks. I don’t know if he thinks I’m trying to be a smart-ass. I’m not. “I see why my daughter likes you. You’re very blunt.”

  “Or just honest. Can I ask you something”—I borrow his phrase—“man-to-man?”

  “Certainly.”

  “You ever ask Lennon what it’s like to be her? I mean, you can read all the books you want, you can Google the hell out of something, you can talk to the most expensive psychiatrist in the world, none of those will replace the words coming straight from her mouth to your ears. She’s actually really good at explaining it, if you give her the chance.” Josh looks at his shoes. I take it from his silence the answer is no, so I continue. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t do what you’ve been doing. You’re light-years ahead of my old man when it comes to giving a shit about your kid, so props for that, but what Lennon needs more than any doctor or any pill is some understanding.” I shove my hands in my pockets and shift my weight around on my feet. “That’s what I think, for what it’s worth.”

  His expression softens. “A well-thought-out stance to have, Kyler.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I still can’t condone your hostility toward Andrea.”

  “I still can’t apologize for it, so maybe we can call it even?”

  He considers this for a moment. “Yeah, I suppose we can do that. Lennon reminds me a lot of her mother, always so headstrong and tenacious in her pursuits. I know when I’ll lose a fight before it begins, so with that in mind, I won’t keep her from you anymore.”

  I bust out my best smile and it’s not even on purpose. The weight of a heavy world that is filled with injustice eases off my shoulders.

  “I won’t hurt your daughters,” I say. “Either one of them.” I want to add more, because Andrea deserves a shitstorm of misery, but I won’t be the one to deliver it. I’ll let karma take that one. I offer him my hand. “I appreciate the apology.”

  “I appreciate the insight,” Josh says. “You’re a smart kid.”

  “I’m overcompensating for the hand I’ve been dealt in the looks department,” I say drily.

  Josh chuckles as he walks away.

  FACT: MY FATHER CONTINUES TO SURPRISE ME.

  I PICK UP A BOOK and try to focus, but my eyes keep looping back and rereading the same paragraph until the words are nothing but blurred ink on the page. Claire had delivered Jacob to Mel’s place, and I was banished to my room so she and Dad could talk to Andrea. I’m not sure what happened exactly, but there was a lot of yelling.

  There’s a soft rapping on my door. It could be Claire, or, if the Universe is unspeakably cruel, my dad. There’s only one way to find out. “Come in.”

  My father peeks his head in. “Hi, bug.”

  Indisputable proof. The Universe is a monumental asshole.

  I set the book down and flip on my side, facing out my window to see Kyler’s room hidden by blinds. It’s still better than looking at my dad’s face. “I want to be alone right now.”

  “Lennon—”

  “Please, Dad, just go.”

  “I can’t.”

  Two words that are so simple, but effective in sparking my interest. I roll over again and look at him. “Why?”

  “Because I owe you an apology, that’s why.”

  Now I sit up, because it’s the last thing I expected him to say. He points to the chair near the sewing table. “Mind if I sit down?”

  I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. “I guess not.”

  He walks in, shuts the door behind him, and, with a purposeful stride, crosses my room to sit down. “I’ve just been to see Kyler.”

  My heart skips at the mere sound of his name. “Trying to tame the wild beast?”

  “Very funny.”

  “I’m not trying to be funny,” I tell him. “It’s a legitimate question.”

  “I went next door to apologize. I’m not above admitting when I was wrong.”

  Wow. Not what I expected.

  My father continues. “He said something that resonated with me, bug.”

  My interest snowballs. “What did he say?”

  “He suggested that I ask you about you.”

  “What about me?”

  He pauses. “About what it’s like to have OCD.”

  “Haven’t you read about it?”

  He nods. “I have. Not the same as hearing from someone who lives with it, which is something I should have realized before, so tell me, please.”

  “It sucks.”

  “My normal response would be something like ‘I can imagine,’ but I can’t. I can’t imagine. As your dad, that’s pretty hard for me to admit.”

  “You don’t want to imagine, trust me. It’s horrible. You’d be an accomplice to the madness.”

  “I want to understand, Lennon. I really do.”

  “You don’t.”

  “Please just talk to me.”

  And so, I do. I tell him everything about the burden I carry built of unsavory parts. I tell him I wish I wasn’t this way, but I am because it’s how I’m hardwired. When I’m finished, tears spring to my dad’s eyes, so I use the opportunity to add, “Kyler may not be exactly the same, but he knows what it feels like to be on the outside looking in, he gets it. He gets me. So I can’t understand why you are so determined to protect me from the only person who I can just be myself around.”

  “Because I’m a concerned father.”

  “I understand you’re concerned, but when I’m around him I can relax, because he doesn’t care if I’m tapping constantly, it doesn’t faze him. My OCD doesn’t matter to him. I matter to him. No one has ever made me feel that way, except you and Mom.” Tears well in my eyes that now mirror my dad’s. “And you tried to take that from me. To take him from me. And it hurt all over again. Worse than anything.”

  “I didn’t realize why he meant so much to you, Lennon,” my dad says. “I’m so sorry. I thought I was protecting you.”

  “I love him.”

  My father rises to his feet and comes to sit on the huge bed beside me. He pulls me toward him and wraps his arms around me. “I know you do, bug, and I love you.”

  I let myself stop hating my dad long enough to remember how much I love him, and it’s all I need. I squeeze him back. “Please let me see him again.”

  Dad pulls away with a smile. “I came in here and told you I’m not above admitting when I was wrong. You can see him. After talking to him for a little while, he seems like a smart kid who cares very much for you. And that las
t part is something he and I have in common.”

  The tears that I’d been holding in fall and run down my cheeks. “I love you, Dad.”

  “I love you, too, Bug, more than you’ll ever know.”

  * * *

  Andrea has been reserved and complacent since Jacob’s colossal bust. No outbrusts, no snide remarks. It’s been peaceful. On Saturday morning, she and Claire walk through the front door, bags of groceries in hand. Today was her first appointment with an anger management therapist recommended by Levi. She doesn’t look overly impressed, but she removes her hand from behind her back and reveals a chocolate bar and offers it to me. “My mom said you like this kind.”

  “Um, wow. Thanks,” I say, touched.

  She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. We were already at the store.” Her voice is almost a whisper until she yells, “Jake! Mom got you a chocolate bar, but you can’t eat it until after lunch.”

  I’m sure I’m gaping, but I try not to stare too long, because it’ll flip her bitch switch, so wisely, I take it, thank her again, and head to the kitchen. My dad is pacing in the center of the room with his phone pressed to his ear, while Jacob is attempting to climb a footstool for access to breakfast cereal. Dad’s voice is strained, his jaw clenched tight.

  “What are you saying, Don? You assured me, guaranteed me, they’d be playing. I gave you an enormous check and didn’t book a backup. What the hell do you expect me to do? The event is tonight, Don. Tonight.” He glances at his wristwatch. “Precisely nine hours from now, my guests will arrive. That’s not a lot of time to find a resolution, Don.”

  He continues repeating the guy’s name, Don, over and over like he’s making an effort to drive his point home.

  I head to the counter where Jacob is and grab his cereal and a bowl. While he shakes the contents of the box, I retrieve almond milk from the fridge and splash it over the top. When I return the milk and shut the fridge door, my dad tosses his phone on the table and rakes his hands through his hair.

  “Everything’s fine,” he says to nobody in particular. “Or it will be.” He turns, strides down the hall, and bellows out for Claire.