Piece by Piece

by Tucker, RH

  “I said stop!” I yell. Her blue eyes lock on mine, and I can only hold the look for a second before I stare back down at the carton of ice cream. “I can’t just let him go now. I’m … falling in love with him.”

  “Sasha, no.”

  “Thanks.”

  Sliding closer, she takes the ice cream from my hand and sets it on the coffee table. Putting her arm around me, she draws me closer. “It’s only been a couple of months.”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  Staying silent, she keeps her arms around me. “Sorry.”

  I wipe my eyes before any tears can fall, and let out an unbelieving chuckle. “This is a crappy way to tell you that.”

  “We could go get Tara, and TP my ex’s car again. That was fun.”

  Another small laugh. “Thanks. Maybe tomorrow,” I answer her, leaning into a hug, wrapping my arms around her.

  Chapter 22

  Taylor

  Speeding along the freeway, I try to only focus on getting to AJ as fast as possible. He’s not hurt or in trouble. He’s scared. I know exactly what he’s feeling, only I had the luxury of being older than him when I felt as frightened as he sounded. And as much as I love Reese, she was his big sister. That’s something I’ll never know what it’s like to feel for him.

  When I pull up to their house, in a small, quiet suburb of Santa Monica, I don’t think about all of the time I spent in their front yard growing up. I don’t think about the times me and Reese walked home from school, or the nights sneaking into her room or her sneaking into mine. And I don’t look at the house next door. My parents’ house. My bedroom facing the driveway of AJ’s house, dark and quiet. I lived there for over seventeen years, and in the time I’ve been gone, I think I’ve stepped foot in it less than a dozen times.

  Knocking, I can see it’s dark inside, so I’m not sure if AJ finally fell asleep, but I still have to check. A light ticks on and Cynthia answers the door, tugging her bathrobe tighter, covering herself from the cold air of the night.

  “Taylor? What’s wrong, honey?”

  “Nothing,” I answer, looking past her, but see and hear a quiet house. “Um, AJ called me. He sounded scared. I think he was crying.”

  “What?” She opens the door wider, letting me inside. “Come in, come in.”

  “Thanks.”

  Locking the door behind us, we walk over to AJ’s room. I do my best to fight off any memories I have of being in here. No matter the memories I try to block, my subconscious betrays me, and I look over at Reese’s door. It’s shut.

  Quietly, I knock at AJ’s room and then open the door. The light breaking through the darkness of the room, I see a bed with no one in it. Opening it wider, Cynthia trails in behind me, and we see him sitting at the foot of the bed on the ground, a blanket wrapped around himself.

  “Hey, buddy,” I whisper over to him. “Everything okay?”

  Without a word, he jumps to his feet, his blue pajamas hanging off of him. He wraps his arms tightly around me. His soft whimpers tear at my heart, and I kneel over, embracing him. “Shh, it’s okay.”

  “AJ, baby, what’s wrong?” Cynthia kneels next to me, running her hand over his hair.

  “I … I had a nightmare. I’m sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about. I have nightmares all of the time,” I whisper to him. I catch Cynthia’s eyes jerk toward mine before looking back at her son.

  “AJ, why didn’t you wake Daddy or me?”

  His red eyes meet hers before he looks down and pulls out a worn picture from his pajama pocket. He has a few pictures of Reese up in his room, but the one he’s clutching stabs at my heart. It’s one of the last photos I took with Reese.

  We were at the county fair with her parents and him. He asked if I’d take him on a ride, so I did. Reese was not invited. “Boys only,” he told her, and we laughed about it later. After the ride, we all jumped in a photo booth and made funny faces while the pictures snapped. We each got one row of pictures, three images to a row, and he’s kept it on a desk in his room since.

  Lifting his gaze to meet mine, he wipes away his tears. “Could you tell me a Reese story? Please?”

  “Of course,” I answer and look back at Cynthia.

  She nods before heading out.

  AJ tugs at his blankets, crawling back in his bed, and I lie down next to him. I’m an only child, but growing up around him, he’s always felt like my little brother, even more so when I lived next door.

  “Your jacket’s cold,” he says, pointing at the leather.

  “Sorry, buddy.” Shrugging it off, I lean back against his headboard, and he grips his pillow tighter. “So, let’s see. What kind of story do you want to hear?”

  “A funny one.” He smiles up at me, before laying his head back on his pillow.

  “Hmm, a funny one.” I tap my finger against my lips, trying to recall something funny that happened to Reese or me in the past. Then I remember a situation that involved me, her, a bottle of chocolate syrup, and both of our moms screaming at the top of their lungs after finding out we replaced their eyeliner filling with chocolate syrup when we were eight.

  He giggles quietly, sleep setting in as I conclude the story. “Your mom was so mad. I’ll tell you a little secret though,” I whisper and look at the door, knowing Cynthia isn’t listening, but trying to play it up for him. “Your dad gave Reese and me a high five for such a great prank.”

  Another soft laugh, and then a yawn. After a couple of minutes, I think he’s fallen asleep when he starts talking. “I’m scared, Taylor.”

  “I know, AJ. Being scared is okay. I get scared, too.”

  “But … I’m forgetting her. I don’t want to forget her. That’s why I called you. I didn’t have a nightmare.” I look down, and he lets out a sniffle, wiping away tears. “I was thinking about her before I was going to sleep and … I couldn’t remember what she sounded like.”

  Another slice to the heart, knowing the exact same feeling.

  “It’ll be okay. I’ll tell you what, I’ll have my mom send you some of her recitals to your phone. That way you can always have them to listen to whenever you want. How’s that sound?”

  He smiles through his tears, nodding. “Thanks, Taylor. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, buddy.”

  Taking a deep breath, I do everything I can not to break down and cry along with him. I know I can’t do that. He’s just a little boy. Her baby brother.

  I’m not sure when, or for how long, but I must’ve dozed off because a soft shaking of my shoulder awakens me. “Taylor,” someone whispers.

  Looking up, I find Cynthia offering me a comforting smile, and then I look at my side. AJ is fast asleep, still holding my arm. Getting up quietly, I grab my jacket from the floor and head out of the room. Taking one last look back, I softly close the door and follow her into the kitchen.

  “Coffee for your drive back?” she asks, grabbing the already brewed pot.

  “Sure.”

  She pours some into her coffee mug, and another memory hits me. It’s a Garfield coffee mug that Reese got her as a present years ago, which was her mom’s favorite comic strip. “Thank you for coming over, Taylor. That was sweet of you.”

  “Of course. I’ll always be here for AJ, Cyn. Always.”

  “I know.” Leaning against the counter, she smiles down at her steamy drink. Truth be told, I’m not a coffee drinker, but I take a sip of it anyway, hoping the caffeine will help on the drive back.

  “How’s everything else?”

  “Everything is everything,” I answer aimlessly, staring at my drink. “Same ol’, same ol’.”

  “Your mother told me you passed your personal trainer certification a while back.”

  “Yeah.” I let out a slightly annoyed chuckle. “A lot of good it’ll do me now with no job.” Glancing up, she waits for me to go on. “I quit. My boss wouldn’t give me the sixteenth off.”

  “Oh.” She’s quiet for a moment. “I’m sure Re
ese would’ve understood if—”

  “Never.” My jaw clenches and I look up again, feeling slightly ashamed of how hard I snapped. “Sorry. It’s just … I don’t care what happens in my life, I can’t forget that day. I can’t and I won’t.”

  “Taylor, I’m not saying to forget. I know you won’t. None of us will. But … You need to move forward too, Taylor.”

  A cynical chuckle escapes. “Yeah. That’d be nice. Maybe in twenty years I might get to that point.”

  “Your parents miss you.” I don’t respond, instead opting to give a knowing nod. “Haley and Paula stop by every now and then. Have you kept in touch with them or anyone from school?” Another nonverbal answer from me, only this time I shake my head. “Any new friends out in Irvine? Any girls?”

  I swallow the uncomfortable thoughts of Sasha and Micah, scowling down at my cup of coffee.

  “Sorry, that’s none of my business.”

  “No, it’s not that,” I reply. “I … I mean, there are people. But I can’t … Getting close to people is hard. I had a really good friend for a while, but he … I pushed him away when I think all he was trying to do was help me.”

  I don’t realize she’s crossed over to me until she puts her hand on top of mine. “Taylor, you owe it to yourself to still have a life. Reese would want that.”

  “I know. But it’s … difficult.” Setting down the cup, I take a deep breath, gathering myself. “How about you guys?”

  “Oh, you know. Same ol’, same ol’,” she laughs, repeating my words. “Your mother and I have our shopping days and spa days. I think she really does it for my sake, but it’s nice, you know? It keeps a sense of normalcy in my life. And we still have AJ, so I want to be strong for him.”

  Her last words pierce through me, and I wrap my arms around her. “I’m sorry, Cynthia. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “Hey, no. No, Taylor.” She pulls back enough to hold my face in her hands, looking up at me.

  This lady, who I’ve known my entire life and looked at as a second mom, still being strong for me when she has absolutely no reason to, and I have no right to ask that of her.

  “We’ve talked about this, you have nothing to be sorry about. I won’t listen to any more sorries from you, okay?” I nod. “What happened, happened. The only person you have to come to terms with about what happened is yourself. You have to, Taylor. We love you, and she loved you. I know she’d want you to keep living your life. You can’t continue blaming yourself for everything.”

  “I’m trying to,” I answer her, wiping my eyes. “It’s just so hard, Cynthia. I didn’t know it was going to be this difficult.”

  “And that’s why we’re here. Your parents are here. We’ll always be here for you. You don’t have to face everything you’re feeling alone. That will only tear you apart.”

  Chapter 23

  Sasha

  Stopping outside of Taylor’s apartment, I see his bike parked. I haven’t been to his place in a couple of weeks, and I’m not sure why, but I definitely haven’t been complaining. It’s been nice having him around, getting closer to him, or at least as close as he lets me get.

  I texted him the following day after he abruptly left the apartment, and he said everything was fine. Not wanting to be too pushy, I decided not to text or call, hoping he’d reach out first. He hasn’t in two days. So I’ve decided to swing by, unsure if he’d be working or at class since I’m still not sure of his exact schedule. You’d think after being whatever we are for almost two months, I’d know more.

  Knocking at the door, I nervously twist a ring on my finger, unsure what exactly I’m nervous about. Showing up unannounced? Wanting to finally put everything on the table and nail down exactly what we are? Just wanting him to be more open with me? All of the above?

  “Hey,” Taylor answers, opening the door. “What are you doing here?”

  I fight off the frown from his less than welcoming greeting. “I missed you. We haven’t talked in a couple of days, and you kind of just ran out of the door. Is everything okay?”

  I wait for him to invite me inside, but he doesn’t. “I told you, everything’s fine.”

  “That’s what you said, but it seemed serious. Taylor, you can talk to me.”

  “I know I can,” he replies, almost rolling his eyes. “Sasha, it’s nothing. I had something come up, and I had to go.”

  “Right.” I nod, staring down at the ground. This is going even worse than I thought it might. Looking back up at him, my eyes catch a cardboard box behind him. I peer around him and see a few more, stacked on top of one another. “Are you … are you moving?”

  Taking a step back, he glances over his shoulder, before opening the door a little wider. “Oh, yeah.”

  “‘Oh, yeah’? Taylor, that’s kind of a big thing, don’t you think?”

  “Calm down, it’s not like I’m moving back home or anything.”

  His flippant attitude strikes a chord. A hard line crosses my brow, and I fold my arms over my chest. “Back home? And where exactly is that, Taylor?”

  “What?”

  “Where’s back home?”

  “Santa Monica? You know that.”

  “Yeah, but that’s all I know. I know next to nothing about your personal life.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes. It is. Your family, what you were like growing up, even stupid inconsequential things like your favorite color. Taylor, I know you like to work out, and you go to college. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

  “What do you want from me, Sasha? I told you—”

  “I know! You’re messed up. We’re all messed up. That doesn’t mean you block everyone out.”

  “Fine!” He swings the door open and takes a step inside, closer to a stack of boxes. I stand in the doorway, waiting. “I’m an only child, okay? My mom’s name is Bethany, and my dad works as a lawyer. My favorite color is green, I like roller coasters, and I’ve never had the chicken pox. Oh, and last week I dropped all of my classes. Happy now?”

  My jaw drops, most shocked that he stopped classes and didn’t even bother to tell me. My shock wears off quickly, the agitation returning. “No, I’m not. I just want to know you, Taylor. The real you. The one you only show me glimpses of when we’re in bed together. The one you hide behind whatever happened between you and the girlfriend you had in high school.”

  “Don’t.”

  I finally walk inside and step closer to him, resting my hand on his arm. His bicep bulges as he tenses. “I just want a normal relationship with you, without all these walls. Tell me what’s happening. Why couldn’t you even tell me you were moving?”

  He jerks his arm away. “Because I can’t, okay? I tried to tell you that. You should probably just cut your ties now because I obviously can’t give you what you want.”

  “You don’t even know what I want, Taylor. We’ve never talked about what I want, or what you want.”

  “You know what I want?” He gives me a point-blank stare. “I just want to sleep around and have fun like any normal guy my age, all right? You happy now? You got it out of me, I was just messing around with you.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Crossing my arms again, I stand confidently in front of him. “You heard me. You’re lying. You just can’t tell me the truth, but I’m here to tell you that you can. I want you to, Taylor.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Why would you think that? I do.”

  “You don’t!” He turns around and kicks a cardboard box. “You don’t want the truth, Sasha. No one does. Everyone just wants the cute little story they’ve all concocted, pretending it’s a tragic love story when it’s really a horror story.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I killed her, okay?” He spins around, glaring daggers at me. My strong, confident guard finally drops. “But no one wants to hear that. No one wants to believe that. They all want the fantasy of what could’ve been and how
it’s no one’s fault, but it is. It’s mine!”

  Grabbing his hand, whatever this wall is that’s about to crumble, I want to be there for him, but I can’t. He doesn’t take my hand. Instead, he pulls it away quickly, taking another step back.

  “I loved her and then I killed her. Are you happy now?” His eyes finally meet mine, and they drip with apathy. “Is that enough for you? Do you finally know the real me, Sasha?”

  “Taylor, whatever happened, I’m sure it’s not—”

  “Shut up!” His venomous command makes me jerk my head back. “You don’t get to tell me it’s not. No one does. It is my fault. And I have to live with that.”

  “I’m … I’m sorry.” I reach for him again, but he spins around, giving me his back.

  “Get out.”

  “Taylor, please—”

  “Get the hell out!”

  * * *

  There are certain nights when we’re slow, and it’s fantastic. This is not one of those nights.

  Our lobby has only seen a few customers, and Manny’s been out front, hanging out with Rita, since we’ve cooked a total of five dinner plates. And usually, that’d be awesome. We’d joke around with each other, talk, or think up new menu items.

  Tonight? Every painful, snail-like second that ticks by, lets me go over the entire circus of a conversation I had with Taylor earlier. And there are so many things my mind continues to overturn.

  He said he killed her. What exactly does that mean? Obviously, it wasn’t literally manslaughter otherwise he’d be in jail. Wouldn’t he? Thinking of that possibility reminds me of Tara’s constant jokes at the beginning, of his mysterious past.

  But more importantly than whatever he’s talking about how his girlfriend died, is the fact that he said he loved her. So he can love. He has loved. Is that why he always wants to play the part of the playboy? Does he not want to love anyone else again?

  Then everything else runs through my mind—him moving and not telling me, being at the top of the list. It’s not like he has to tell me every little thing, but moving is a pretty big thing in someone’s life. Why wouldn’t he even mention it? Or dropping all of his classes?