Fractures

by M R Field

  A hot current burns under my skin as I leap towards her, to hell with the consequences. “Like fuck you will!” I shout. “You need to stop for a minute and let me explain. There are things I haven’t told you yet, and now I need to.”

  “What the fuck? You wait until I sprung you to tell me what these”—she holds her hands up for emphasis—“things are?” She shakes her head. “Unbelievable.”

  “The girl you saw …” I say, trying to gather my thoughts as they stumble across my tongue. “She’s …”

  Trin holds her hand up and turns her head from me. In an emotionless voice that I’ve never heard her use before she says, “Please. If you have any respect for me, leave. I can’t deal with this, Theo. It feels like you’re ripping my heart out, just like you did at Mum’s funeral.” Her face ticks as she squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, tears rapidly falling down her cheeks. Her blue eyes open to show me the same pain that I saw all those years ago. I want to hold her close so badly, but as I step towards her, she scurries back, like I’m poison. “Please.” Her voice fades into a sob. “Go.”

  “I swear, it’s not what you think. I need to tell you, but I want you to calm down.” My voice lowers as her face crumbles. “But I’ll go. For you. But you can bet that this is not over. I’ll give you time to recover, but you’re mine, Trinity. Just as I am yours. You’re the fire to my ice. Like fuck am I going to let that fade away.”

  A sob echoes in the room as I walk to her door, each step taking me farther from her. I want to kick myself for being so fucking stupid. All of this could have been prevented if I’d told her.

  As I reach the door, I make sure the sign for closed is facing the street, and I flick the lock to stop anyone from coming in. It’s the only reprieve I can give her as she breaks apart in front of me, each sob a reminder of what I can’t control, ripping a deep hole in my chest.

  I begin to walk down the street, no sense of direction or purpose, lamenting over what I’ve done … dissolving perfection. Just as Ko believed. I’m about to walk to the park when a gentle hand taps my shoulder, and for a moment I’m relieved, thinking it could be Trin, but it’s Anastasia, with Elly beside her.

  “Theo, what happened?” Her eyes blink rapidly as she looks at my face.

  “She saw me hugging you and thought I was cheating—”

  “No, that can’t be. Surely, she’d see that we look alike …” she says, confusion lining her brow.

  “She knows I’m not good with affection. Her seeing me hug you sent her off the charts.”

  “But you were congratulating me on being brave.” Her voice pitches. “Oh my God! It’s all my fault. What she must think of me to hurt her so.”

  “I don’t know what the fuck she was thinking, as she won’t let me talk. She wouldn’t even let me tell her who you are. This has gone on long enough!”

  “I can go,” she offers, rubbing her lips together. “I can tell her who I am, and then she won’t be mad.”

  My eyes dart to her shirt, and I cringe. “Ugh!” I grip my hair in disgust. “That fucking novel is what got me into this shit! It started all the fucking lies!” I turn and face the wall next to me and smack my hands up against it.

  “Hey.” Anastasia reaches forward and grabs me. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. She will calm down, and then you can tell her. Give her a couple of days.”

  “She’s got surgery in two; she won’t be in the state to see me. It’s not like I can hold

  her hostage and make her listen. Unless …”

  “I have an idea.” Elly’s voice suddenly breaks through my thoughts. Holding up her

  Palm, she says, “But I’m going to need your key to copy, and you’ve got some friends to call before they all want to lynch you. Stat.”

  This is nuts. Why did I listen to Elly? This is going to backfire—I can feel it. Even after explaining myself to Hazel and Trice, I still feel like they’re going to slay me. I check my phone for the hundredth time and read the same message from Hazel:

  Hazel: She texted to say she was out of recovery and ready to go home, as she ate her lunch. She’s in room 202. Good luck.

  Me: Thanks. I’m going to need it …

  Hazel: You’ll be fine. It’ll sort itself out.

  “Easy for you to say,” I grumble, as I step out of Trice’s red Barina and press the remote to lock it. This plan is going to go balls up. My lips press together as I stroll to the entrance of the hospital, each step matching the deep pounding in my chest. I tuck the keys in my back pocket and start hoping that Trin’s not in the mood to launch at me.

  “Her room is just down that corridor to the left,” the nurse instructs me, and I make my way down the quiet hall, counting the rooms until I reach hers. The wooden door is ajar, and I hope that some guardian angel is looking over me, or at least putting up a shield around my nuts. Sighing softly, I walk in to the pale-walled room and cringe at how lifeless it feels.

  My feet stop as I see Trin sitting on the edge of the bed, with her bag and phone in her hand, her head bent down. I crave to hold her, to make her want me again. I would give anything to have her smile.

  I clear my throat to get her attention, and her face lifts, her eyes widening in shock.

  “What are you …” Her voice strains, and I instantly feel pity as exhaustion has reduced my firecracker’s frame into a hunched state. I ache, wondering if she is still mine.

  I quickly begin with the plan I’d formulated with the girls, after I called around there to tell them what had transpired and who my sisters were. Suffice it to say, besides their sympathetic looks, Trice was right in calling me a fucking dickhead for not telling her sooner.

  “Hazel called.” My words rush out quickly in hopes of stopping her from biting my head off. “Gian has a fever, so she asked me to come and get you. Trice is at class, so I borrowed her car, as I didn’t think you’d be able to go on my bike.” I push my hands into my pockets and look to the ground. “I know you don’t want to see me, but please just let me take you home.”

  My eyes roam the floor before I have the courage to look back at her. Her hands are clasped around her phone, which sits on her lap as she hunches, her bottom lip moving between her teeth. This is not my Trin. This is the shell of a woman who I’ve fallen in love with. It is up to me to bring her back, piece by piece.

  “Okay.” She nods and stands, wincing slightly as she holds her bag and phone. I rush forward. She turns away from me to stop me, but fuck it. I reach out and gently tug her bag out of her grasp and tilt my head to the door, as I know she won’t want me to touch her.

  We walk in silence, and it’s deafening. My pulse thunders between my ears, and I hear every nuance that surrounds us in the corridors. Monitors beeping, the shuffling of feet, coughing patients … all are part of a wall that keeps us separate and silent.

  After the paperwork is signed, we go to the car, I unlock the doors and climb in, knowing that if I try to help her, she might refuse to enter the car. She steps in awkwardly, and I have to hold my tongue to stop from asking how she’s feeling. I don’t want to push her, and, besides, she will flip her shit at me soon enough.

  We drive in silence as she rests her head against the headrest, facing away from me. Songs play on the radio station, and I begin to think she’s sleeping until she asks, “Why are we on this side of the freeway?”

  I shuffle in my seat, my legs too long for this Barbie mobile, and I respond, “I’m taking you home.” I attempt to dissuade her questioning, but she’s not sleepy enough. Can’t fool her.

  “I can’t believe this,” she mutters, as we take the turn off and head to my place. As the minutes pass slowly, I wait for her to snap, to call me every name under the sun, but she doesn’t. We pull up in front of my warehouse, and I hit the button to open the roller door, but I don’t drive in. I leave the car parked on the street.

  “Why can’t you take me to Hazel’s? I can’t stay there.”

  “It’s a full house and harder now wi
th Gian being sick. Plus, they don’t have any room.”

  She grumbles in her seat and turns to face me for the first time. “Well, just take me home then.”

  “I can’t. You have stairs. Plus, you’re not supposed to be alone for the first twenty-four hours.”

  She thuds her head back against the headrest and groans. “This feels like a trap. I don’t want to be here.”

  “Look.” I turn to face her. “You have to rest for the first few days, and I have another project at work that will take up my time, so I will barely be here.” Her eyes slide to mine, but her body remains tense. Her chest rises and falls. “You will hardly see me. I will be upstairs when I’m home, I promise.”

  She groans in frustration and grabs the door handle. “Let’s get this over and done with. The sooner I’m here the sooner, I can go home.”

  We dismount from the car, and I lock it, carrying her bag. I then activate the doors to close, and they pull down, leaving us to stand in the darkness. I can hear her heavy breathing and, although I want to touch her, the sharp intake of her breath isn’t a welcomed one. It’s laced with fear, panicked. I haven’t even touched her. My heart sinks.

  I move my arm, and the motion sensors kick in to light the space up slightly. I quickly distance myself from her to move towards the kitchen. Flicking the other switches, I head to the back room that only a few weeks ago we had joked about being the maid’s den. The melancholic feeling of this room no longer holds the jokes from before.

  Turning on the light, I step to the side to allow her to enter the space. She moves to the side of the room, so I take the opportunity to quickly walk to the table to put her bag on it. I turn back and find her staring straight at me, causing a lightning bolt to surge in my chest. There is no emotion in her eyes, just a vacant stare.

  “This is your room.” I gesture stupidly, waving my arm around. “If you need anything, just ring that bell.”

  She blinks to break her stare and glances around the room until she sees the bell on her nightstand.

  I point over to the cupboard and add, “In there you’ll find some clothes that Trice got for you. I’m going to cook something for dinner, and I’ll bring it down to you—”

  “Not hungry.” Her voice hardens as she opens the cupboard door. “I’ll just go to bed, seeing as all my friends have all my stuff prearranged to do so.” She huffs, sliding her outfits across the rail harshly.

  “She just dropped them off.” I flinch at her tone but know that she isn’t fooled.

  “Whatever, Theo. Knowing they’re in on this shit, puts them on my shit list. The sooner you leave, the sooner I can get to bed.”

  Reluctantly, I exit and close the door behind me. I go to the kitchen to give her some space, and eventually I start dinner. Would she be talking to me now, if I told her the truth in the car? Her vacant eyes tell me differently. The nurses warned me that she might not be up for much, so I make a sandwich and pour a glass of apple juice, hoping she’ll eat something. Carrying her food on a tray, I go to her room and balance the tray over one arm, as I tap on her closed door. Silence. I keep balancing the tray to open the door, and I find her fast asleep in bed. Using the light from the kitchen, I walk in and place the tray on the side table, careful to not make any sound.

  The light shows just enough of her to see her huddled in a ball on the bed, and my fingers itch to touch her, to brush the hair from her face so I can see her. But I don’t. Instead, I take in her soft features, hoping that she soon lets me tell her. I need to tell her. My eyes roam her face some more as the artist in my mind takes flight.

  “Mila, you need to turn towards me. Let me show you …” Adam begs.,

  “No.” Her shoulders are stiff, tortured. “Leave me be.”

  I blink and shake my head, banishing those scenes. If I can’t get my characters to make sense, what the fuck are my chances of restoring us? She is so goddamn stubborn. All it would’ve taken was a minute to explain and she didn’t give me the chance. Fuck, I’ve had a million chances and I’ve wasted every single one. Maybe she’ll be better in the morning, after she sleeps. Maybe she’ll let me speak without throwing a chair at my head. Screw it. The moment she isn’t hurting, I’m fucking busting down that door.

  I spend the night tossing and turning, just missing her. Her warmth, scent, and my throbbing cock can’t take her being downstairs and away from me. I miss her.

  I get ready quickly after my alarm sounds and spend some time in the kitchen organising a few things for her, so she’ll be taken care of while I am out. I look at the time on the microwave and grimace. I only have an hour left to be out of here and get to work.

  I stack a plate with toast and pour some juice, wondering if she’s missed me too. I knock on her door, hear a faint shuffling, and groan, wishing I was beside her to wake her up like I normally do. Not now. You need to fix this.

  “What?” Her tired voice lingers, and I turn the door handle while balancing the tray.

  She’s coiled up in bed with the covers drawn to her chest. Her eyes squint in pain as her legs point away from her body, which I guess is to avoid touching her stomach. I didn’t notice if she did this last night. My head was too far up my own arse.

  “Have you taken your pain meds?” I put the tray down on the side table and look at her.

  She puffs some breaths as discomfort scrunches her face. Even in her pain, she is the most beautiful woman I know, and the stubbornest. “I don’t need any,” she says through clenched teeth. “I’m fine.”

  “Trin, you need to take them if you’re sore. Where did you put them?”

  “I don’t need your help.” She scowls, her face pinching as she shifts on the bed. “This isn’t some fucking Stockholm Syndrome. When I can move, I’m breaking out of this Alcatraz. We’re done.”

  Fuck this shit right off.

  “Not talking about this shit now.” I ignore her jab, as the protective instinct rises in me. I need to make her feel better. Seeing her hurt is doing my head in. “Where did you put them?”

  “Leave me. I can manage without you. I forgot to bloody take them. I don’t need you,” she hisses, and it pushes me to the brink. I growl and lean forward, planting my hands on either side of her body. I move closer, and she flinches, but I persevere. “Give me your fire, your anger—give it all to me. You’re allowed to hurt, but if there’s relief, then I will find it for you. Even if I have to walk to the edges of the earth, I will.”

  She stares back at me, her nose wrinkling as she holds back tears. “I don’t want you to see me like this,” she sobs. “As weak. I want you to let me be.”

  “There is beauty in pain. In you, I see your strength through it. It shines through you. Don’t push me away. Let me see you. All of you. It’s me, Trin. Please, let me help you.”

  She reaches a breaking point as her eyes well with tears, and she closes them firmly in a feeble attempt to stop crying. A lone tear rolls down her cheek, and I want to wipe it away.

  “They’re in my bag,” she whispers, defeated. My pulse quickens as I know my firecracker is still in there, and I just need to find a way to bring her back out.

  I quickly rise from the bed and get her pills, watching her eagerly take them. Her tray from last night sits empty, and a part of me is thrilled that she is letting me in, in little crumbs.

  “Don’t think this is the way for you to get back with me,” she mumbles, as she grabs a piece of toast from the table and tentatively takes a bite. “You’re not wearing your suit.” She chews as her hand waves up and down my body. I look down at my jeans and jumper. “Doesn’t mean you can take the day off and babysit me. That’s not gonna happen. I don’t give a fuck what the nurses think.”

  “I’m not staying here today. I have another project.”

  Trin flinches, and I catch a flicker of disappointment. Yes. She does still care. I push my hand in my pocket, frustrated that I can’t just march over there and kiss her to shut her up.

  “I’m no fool.” S
he squints at me in disapproval. “Once I’m better, I’m gone. You broke my trust. I can’t get over that.” She throws the crust on the table, as I grab the empty tray next to her and tap my hand with it, staring at her grimace. Her mouth twinges as her face tightens in pain, but I have to let that slide.

  “That day in front of the café,” I begin,

  “Theo. Don’t.” Her legs shift from the bed to the floor. “I will leave here if you mention it again.”

  Is this what it is going to be for us? Always fighting to build something and then crashing it down?

  I don’t break eye contact, but the hope that I stupidly felt starts to fade. If I tell her and she forgives me, will it only be a matter of time before we try to sabotage ourselves again? When will it all stop?

  I love her. God, do I love her. Every pulse in my body beats for her. But in all this mess, I’m starting to wonder if fighting for her is worth it. I’m tired of being torn down in life. Loving her and putting up with the mental merry-go-rounds is doing my head in. Yes, I fucked up. But not listening to me for a second is bullshit. This is not a situation where I can bind her hands and fuck her senseless against my bedhead to show reason or gain control. She took that from me a long time ago. This is us, and I am tired. So very fucking tired. I refuse to be silent anymore.

  “She’s my sister,” I blurt, watching her face spark in surprise as her hand flies to her chest. Moving to the door, I leave her with the final straw. “I know I owe you an explanation. If fact, I owe you a dozen or so, but right now, you need to think about us and remember how fucking hard we’ve worked to get to this point. I can’t do this anymore. I won’t lose you again, Trin. Brace yourself. If it’s love and war you want, it’s love and war you’ll get.”

  “When your heart gets broken, use the right tape to put it back together.”

  Love, Mum

  TRINITY

  Oh my God.

  His sister. That was his sister. Who I said I’d wait to meet. I didn’t even see what she looked like, just saw that he’d touched her. Oh fuck.