Pieces (The Breakaway #2)

by Michelle Davidson Argyle

  Naomi sat up straight. “What? Why?”

  “Because you know they’ll try to stop you. No matter what you end up deciding, promise me you won’t tell them. Not yet.”

  She took another deep breath. “Okay, fine.”

  “Promise me.”

  “I promise.” She let out a sigh, unsure of everything. The car seemed to fade around her. The purple sign wavered. “You wouldn’t go without me, would you?” she asked. “If I decide I can’t go?”

  “I ... I don’t know.”

  “You wouldn’t wait for me? We could live here at school together and you could find another job in Italy when I’m finished.”

  “Naomi, there are only so many work visas granted every year. I was lucky enough to get one because I’ve had my eye on Italy for so long and planned it all right. There’s so much tied up in this,” he said, his voice faltering. “I don’t know if I can give it all up to wait ....”

  There was a long pause. Naomi wished she could see Jesse and his reactions. This was too much. She looked from the purple sign down to the plate glass window of the café and caught a glimpse of Finn talking with the cashier at the front. Looking at him now, she realized he and Jesse were two weights on a scale and that her feelings for Jesse far outweighed those for Finn. She was attracted to Finn. She admired him. She wanted his friendship, but she wondered how deeply all of that went. If Finn asked her to quit school and move to Italy with him, she wouldn’t do it. Not at this point in their relationship. Jesse had done so much for her. Nothing could replace that.

  “Naomi? Do you understand what I’m saying? I can’t guarantee I’ll find another position like this. Moving to Italy will help us avoid what we’d have to deal with here.”

  She thought about Jesse moving in with her at Harvard, if he would ever agree to such a thing. She thought about how her friendship with Finn would fall apart, about how awkward it would be telling people who Jesse was and how she had met him. Maybe she could own it and not give a crap what other people thought. Maybe she could lie. Or be vague about everything. Who was she kidding? People would know and news would spread. The extra stress would keep her from excelling in school.

  “Naomi?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m just thinking. This is all so fast. I want to see you. Can you come out here?”

  “Yes, probably when I get back from Italy.”

  “How long will that be?” She watched Finn laughing with the female cashier. She had blonde hair with peacock-blue streaks through it.

  “A few weeks. Do you have a webcam? We can talk that way until then. I want to see you too.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got it on my laptop, but I’m not home yet.”

  “Then tonight?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s great to hear your voice, Naomi. I miss you.”

  “I miss you too.”

  “This number I’m calling from is mine, if you want to program it into your phone. Why don’t you call me in a few hours when you’re ready?”

  “Okay.”

  She expected him to say goodbye, but he held on, waiting.

  “Naomi, are you okay?”

  She nodded, as if he could see her. “I’m great, really. I’ve waited for this forever. I guess it doesn’t seem real now.”

  “Try to take it easy, okay? I love you.”

  “I love you too. I’ll call you in a bit.”

  She hung up and kept looking at the café window. Finn was gone, but she knew she had to go in and tell him not to come over tonight. Grabbing her purse with trembling hands, she stepped out of the car and walked into the café. The cashier looked up and smiled.

  “Is Finn here?” Naomi asked.

  “Sure, I’ll get him.”

  “Thanks.”

  Naomi walked to a table and sat down. Sitting in the familiar environment triggered her desire for iced tea and cake. She looked up as Finn came to her table and sat down.

  “Hey, what’s up?” he asked, his smile big enough to make it clear how happy he was to see her. “We still on for tonight?”

  She shook her head and grabbed the nearest object she could—a saltshaker. Turning it around and around, she stared at the holes on the top. “Something’s come up. We’ll have to reschedule.”

  “Alright. When is good?”

  “I-I don’t know.” She looked up and stopped spinning the shaker. “He’s free, Finn.”

  His smile fell and he leaned back in the chair. She looked at his nametag and felt heavy all of a sudden. Finn Giachetti. Assistant Manager. She wondered how it must feel to earn money and know it came from her own efforts. Jesse wanted the job in Italy so he could be independent and happy. Finn wanted to make his mother proud and prove to himself he could succeed. But what did she want? It had been months since she had pulled out her sketchpad or sat down at her computer to work on a film or a photograph. When she looked at Finn’s nametag something withered inside her. Maybe it was determination. Maybe it was hope.

  “I expected you to look a lot happier,” Finn said, interrupting her thoughts. “I’m confused. How can he be off parole so fast? Is that normal?”

  Her focus drifted to his face. “He got a shorter sentence for his plea bargain, so I guess his parole was shorter too. I don’t know.” She paused, trying to decide how much she wanted to tell Finn. “He wants me to move to Italy with him.”

  “Italy?” Finn’s eyes widened. Naomi thought she noticed a spark of panic in them, but couldn’t be sure. “How is that possible? Even if he’s off parole—”

  “I don’t know, but I had to tell you. I thought—”

  Finn put up his hands, defending himself. “Listen, if this has anything to do with me, relax. We’ve talked about it already and you know I’m fine with whatever you choose. I want you to be happy, Naomi. We’re friends. We’ve never been lovers. You don’t owe me anything. I’ll always be your friend no matter what.”

  She pushed the saltshaker away and felt her shoulders drop a little. “Thanks, Finn. I guess I was worried about that, but mostly I’m worried about making the right decision. I don’t have to go to Italy.” She looked up and forced a weak smile. “I guess I want your advice. You always give such good advice.”

  He lowered his hands. “That’s a huge decision. I don’t know.” He searched her face and leaned forward to take her hand. When he squeezed, she relaxed at his touch. “I guess all I can think of is to tell you to listen to your heart and be careful. I trust you when you say Jesse is some amazing guy who can make you happy, but remember why you fell in love with him. Remember what it is you want first. He can’t make you happy if you don’t know what you want. The same goes for him. Remember what you said when you told me to figure out what I want? The same goes for you too.”

  She looked down at Finn’s hand holding hers. “You should be a counselor or something,” she said, laughing.

  “Maybe I’ll go to some smaller university and pursue that, then.” He grinned and let go of her hand. “All I know is I’m going to miss learning how to make that pasta dish tonight. I already bought the cream and thyme. I was waiting to get the mushrooms until tonight.”

  Her mouth watered at the thought of the dish. Evelyn had taught her how to make it and it was one of her favorites.

  “I’m sorry. The cream and thyme should keep for a little bit. You can get the mushrooms later. We’ll make it soon,” she said. “I’ll let you know.”

  Finn’s smile turned lopsided. “I have a feeling you’re going to drop off the face of the planet.”

  “You have my number. Call me or text me.”

  “And Jesse is okay with that? You hanging out with me still?”

  “Um, I don’t know. I can ask.”

  “Alright.” The skepticism in his voice was thick and Naomi knew she had to leave. She needed to be alone. To drive somewhere. Anywhere. And think. She grabbed her purse and stood.

  “I gotta go. See you later, Finn.”

  “See ya.” When she was back in he
r car, she looked up and saw him still sitting at the table, his chin resting in his palm as he pushed the saltshaker in circles.

  XIII

  NAOMI STARTED UP HER COMPUTER AS SHE sat at her desk with a bowl of ramen noodles. She winced as she chewed, knowing Finn would laugh if he saw what she was eating. The noodles were quick and easy and she was craving sodium. She sent Jesse a text message. I’m ready. You online?

  Two minutes went by. Yes, what’s your e-mail address?

  Wow, she was considering living with this man, running away with him to Italy, and he didn’t even know her e-mail address. She had seen his address a few times when he had helped her download music into her iPod at the house, but she couldn’t remember it. She set down her fork and texted him her address. Five minutes later, she received an e-mail from swiftsully128 inviting her to video chat with him. She clicked the link, and it took her to a window where she clicked the call button. As it rang, she snatched her bowl of noodles and shoveled a bunch into her mouth. Of course, just as she was chewing, Jesse answered. He smiled and waved to her.

  “Catch you at a bad time?” he asked, laughing as she chewed and swallowed.

  “You answered too fast!”

  “What are you eating?”

  She blushed. “Ramen noodles. I don’t eat them very much, but I’m out of leftovers. I usually cook. You know, because of Evelyn.”

  His smile widened. “I’m happy to hear that. She made the best food.”

  “Yeah, I still make that mushroom pasta dish. Remember that one?”

  Jesse’s eyes grew dreamy at the mention of the dish. “The one with the shiitakes and that thyme-cream sauce?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Damn, I miss that one. The food in prison was awful. Dad cooks, but it’s not the same as Evelyn’s food.” He leaned forward. Naomi noticed he had cut his dark red hair since she had seen him last. It looked nice. Clean. He had shaved too. He wore a button-down shirt that looked like it was new, the top buttons undone. All of this made her warm inside. She had kept her hair down and put on a lacy camisole she thought he might like.

  “So,” she said, swirling the noodles in her bowl, “this whole Italy thing. How soon, do you think?”

  His eyes lit up. “Have you decided already?”

  “No, I just want a time frame.”

  He nodded. “Well, tell me about school. How badly do you want to finish?”

  She looked at the stack of books on her desk—the same ones from last semester since she was taking the same courses and the books hadn’t changed. The only new class was the one with Professor Carlisle. She was regretting signing up for that one.

  “Honestly,” she said after a heavy sigh, “I don’t like school right now. I’ve always liked school. It used to be my life.”

  “Well, it’s Harvard. I imagine it’s challenging.” He leaned back and let out a low whistle. “But Harvard, Naomi ... that’s great. I feel like a jerk asking you to leave.”

  “It’s not your fault, but to answer your question, I don’t know if I want to finish. I feel so obligated.” She rubbed at a spot on her forehead and proceeded to tell him about her scholarship and her mother and the conversation with her professor. She went on and on about her classes and how art wasn’t what it used to be to her. As she talked, she pulled out one of her sketchpads and flipped through the pages, hating every single sketch. To her, they all sucked. Jesse listened.

  She tossed aside her sketchpad and picked up her bowl of noodles again. When she took a bite, they were cold. “I guess I’m seeing how hard all of this can get,” she said, wrapping up her story. “I don’t know how my mom got through law school here. My housemate is in that program. She wants to slit her wrists half the time.”

  Jesse smiled. “Your mom is intense. Period.”

  “I know.” Naomi thought about the moment Jesse had met her mother during the trial. There had been a lot of poorly concealed glaring on her mother’s end.

  “So, you feel obligated,” Jesse said, picking up a glass he had set on a nearby table. He was sitting in a room she didn’t recognize—not his father’s apartment, which was stuffed with books. There were no books anywhere around Jesse. “You’re also losing interest in your major. Can I ask why? Are the classes too hard? Not specific enough yet?”

  She forced down the rest of the noodles and pulled up her hair, holding it off her neck as she thought about his question. It was hot in her room. “It doesn’t help that I have to take all the same classes again.”

  “Right, but you can get through that.”

  She gave him a crooked smile. “Are you trying to talk me into staying?”

  “I want you to make the best decision for you.” His green eyes sparkled as he took another drink. “I’ll admit I want to be selfish and talk you into Italy. I’ve been looking at places we can rent.” He set down his drink.

  “This isn’t helping, Jesse.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. But I want you to know it’s all possible.”

  She nodded, letting it sink in. Possible. It seemed anything was possible when it came to Jesse. “Am I going to need to learn Italian if I decide to go there?”

  He laughed. “If we’re living there, I assume you would want to learn Italian.”

  “I guess so. I can’t decide yet,” she muttered.

  “You don’t have to.”

  She stared at Jesse’s face, surprised she still remembered the pattern of his freckles and the way he tilted his head when he was waiting for a response.

  “I want to hold you,” she said, unsatisfied with the video. It didn’t give her warmth and smell and touch. “That’s all I can think about right now.”

  He frowned and looked at his watch. “I can come in a few weeks. Promise. I should let you go so you can get some homework done.”

  “Ugh, homework. I have to write chapter responses. I haven’t read the chapters yet. I did all of that last semester, but I can’t use the same assignment I turned in before. My professor told me everything has to be new.”

  “I’m sorry.” He stuck out his bottom lip in a puppy-dog pout, and she laughed.

  “Don’t make fun.” She let her playful smile fall into a frown as a million questions entered her mind. “What was it like?” she asked, leaning forward. “Prison, I mean.”

  Jesse looked surprised at her question. He leaned back from the camera and looked away. “Some days I thought it would never end, and some days I regretted turning myself in. Most men there are scum. Lots of prejudice and ignorance.” He shrugged and looked up. “I kept out of it as much as I could, but they don’t like it when you’re a loner like me. Makes it easier for them to pick on you.”

  She shut her eyes and thought about Evelyn in her prison cell. And Eric. He was probably the type to let prison wear him down so much he cracked and lost it, just as his father had.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, opening her eyes to see Jesse watching her with a solemn expression.

  “For what?”

  “For letting me go and turning yourself in—for going through all that.”

  “I had to.” He stared down at the drink in his hand. “I’ve tried to erase what I did, but it will never be enough, Naomi. Never.”

  She blinked, trying to process if what he said was true. He had already done so much for her.

  “Naomi, are you okay? You look tired. It’s late there.”

  “Yeah.” She rubbed her eyes. “I think my homework will have to wait until tomorrow.”

  He nodded. “Get some rest, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She didn’t want to end the call, but she knew she had to. She said goodbye. When she was staring at a blank screen, she remembered something she had thought was gone forever. She remembered a series of dreams from her time in captivity. They were filled with dragons and there was a prince who kept trying to save her. He had never succeeded.

  STACY’S OFFICE always smelled like the ocean. It was one of the reasons Naomi li
ked to go. Once, she had asked Stacy how she made it smell so good.

  “It’s called Sandy Shores,” Stacy explained with a half-smile. “It’s scented wax.” She waved her hand toward a ceramic pot on a bookshelf. A light inside the pot melted wax on a ceramic tray above. Naomi had never noticed it before.

  Today, when she entered Stacy’s office it smelled like a pine forest. Naomi stopped in her tracks as Stacy held open the door.

  “Are you doing alright today?” Stacy asked.

  “Sure.” After staring at Stacy’s manicured fingernails, painted a deep aquamarine color, Naomi swallowed and looked up. Stacy was one of those women who looked a lot younger than she was. Naomi guessed she was fifty, but she appeared thirty-five. She reminded her of her mother, with blonde hair always twisted into a bun or pulled into a low, sleek ponytail. The difference was Stacy didn’t wear professional clothes. Half the time she was dressed in yoga pants and a fitted T-shirt. Naomi didn’t care, and obviously Stacy didn’t either. Smiling, she motioned Naomi into the office, where Naomi settled into her regular seat on the sofa. Stacy sat in a big armchair across from her and asked, “Is there anything you want to focus on today?”

  Naomi leaned against two soft pillows and slipped off her sandals so she could bring her knees to her chest. She always assumed the same closed position when she talked to Stacy about the house and her captivity. This time, however, the ritual felt off balance without the scent of the Sandy Shores wax permeating the air. Instead of the beach, she found herself imagining she was in a forest. She shivered.

  Stacy’s eyebrows rose. She was sitting Indian-style on her chair. “You can begin when you’re ready.”

  Naomi closed her eyes and took four deep breaths as she let her mind slip back into the bedroom at the house. There was tan carpet, an oak dresser, and a handmade quilt on the bed—alternating patches of faded blues and greens. There was a deadbolt on the door, and in her mind it was always locked. She sat on the bed and ran her hand over the soft, worn folds of the quilt, counting to ten in her mind. It wasn’t real. No matter how many times she went there, it wasn’t real anymore. The problem was it felt real, and that was all that mattered. The door was locked and they were holding her captive. She didn’t want to stay there. She knew what they had done was wrong. She would stand her ground. She wouldn’t feel guilty when they went to prison.