Pieces of Rhys

by L. D. Davis

  "Not physically," I murmured. "Don't worry, I'm not in an abusive relationship." In fact, I wasn't in a relationship at all.

  "I still can't get over what was happening to you without our knowledge," she said, her eyes tearing up. "You never said anything, until the end."

  "Mom, don't start crying," I sighed and rolled my eyes. "I really can't deal with it right now."

  "You look so sad, Lindsey," she whispered, touching my face.

  "I am sad," I whispered.

  Oh, fuck.

  "Dad!" I jumped off the counter. "Mom's crying. Make her stop."

  "Crystal! What the fuck? You're like a leaky faucet." His words seem harsh to an outsider, but my dad really was a loving husband, father, and son. He went to her and wrapped his arms around her. "My leaky woman," he smiled and kissed her on the top of her head.

  I felt like I was intruding, and it was depressing to see a happy couple, so I snuck out the back door.

  The house sat on three acres of land, enough to afford some privacy. Their yard was open, and beyond their property line was the back of a vineyard. I know they're just grapes, but the rows and rows of them were breathtaking. I stood on the deck looking at it all against the setting sun.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket. I answered without seeing who it was.

  "I just want to make sure you got in safely," Rhys said tiredly.

  "Yes. I'm...safe."

  "Are you okay?"

  "No, but I'm safe. I guess. I wish Fat Joe were here. My grandmother would yell at him about being fat while stuffing cat treats down his throat."

  That illicited a soft laugh from the holder and destroyer of my heart.

  "Are you okay?" I asked after a silent moment.

  "No, but I'm safe. I guess."

  "You're not going to call me again while I'm here, are you?"

  "Do you want me to?"

  I thought about it.

  "What I want has been inconsequential all of this time, so don't bother."

  "Lindsey," he started softly.

  "No, it's okay. Listen, I'm going to go. I'm really tired. Jet lag."

  "Are you going to be okay?" He whispered.

  "I don't know," I said, swallowing back tears. "This is...this is the worse I've ever felt about anything. I don't know how people live through it."

  "I'll call you again," he insisted.

  "No, no. I'll just talk to you at work in two Mondays."

  I heard him sigh. "I really love you," he said, and I could hear the pain in his voice.

  "I love you, too," I said quickly, and ended the call. I felt like some imaginary tether was just severed.

  "What're you doing out here?" Grandma said from behind me.

  "I'm having a moment. Do you fucking mind?" I gripped the railing, trying to hold back tears.

  "Yeah, I fucking mind," she said. "Don't worry, Linny, we'll get ya set right." She patted my back.

  "You don't even know what's wrong."

  "Yeah I do. Believe it or not, I still have pretty good hearing for an old woman. Some prick loves you, but it's over. Screw him."

  I looked down at this batty woman and almost smiled.

  "We'll fix ya up," she said. "You'll be good as new and can find another man."

  "Okay," I sighed.

  We stood quietly side by side for a few minutes.

  "You're too fat, though," she said as the sun sunk away.

  "I can stop being fat, but you can't stop being old."

  "Yeah. How bout that."

  Chapter Twenty-four

  I was lying in my bed, under my comforter, not being comforted. I was in a fetal position, clutching my sides, trying to keep myself from falling apart.

  I had gone to bed early because of the jet lag, and I didn't feel too terribly bad. I was hurting, but my emotions were dulled from traveling and being plain tired. But when I woke up, my pain was an exposed nerve.

  Everything felt so hopeless. Rhys was the one thing on Earth I truly wanted with my whole body, heart, and soul, but I wasn't good enough to hold on to him. I wasn't good enough to make him want me the same way.

  What was wrong with me? Fat. Ugly. Boring. Useless. Stupid. He didn't want a victim, as Gary had made me, but a strong woman. What could I have done to keep him? Anything. Everything. Not let Hal feel me up.

  My heart was broken and broken hearts are toxic. I felt poison running through my blood, seeping into every inch of my body. My vital organs, my muscles, my bones, my fingers, and my toes hurt. Everything about me was being poisoned and dying. My mind couldn't stay away from the thought of falling asleep and never waking up. It seemed so...appealing. Poisoned mind.

  Gary once broke three of my fingers. I've had cracked ribs, broken arms, and concussions. I lost a molar once because he punched it right out of my mouth. All of that pain seemed diminutive in comparison to what I was now feeling. I would have rather endured all of that physical pain again than to feel what I was feeling.

  I stuffed my comforter in my mouth to muffle my screaming sobs. My nails dug into the blanket so hard that some of them broke.

  How do people live through this? How? It's impossible.

  Eventually, I stopped screaming. My grip on the comforter slackened. After a few minutes, I pulled the comforter out of my mouth, ignoring the fibers that stuck to my tongue. In another hour, I was able to force myself to sit up, get out of bed, and attempt to defy the impossible.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  My mother's face paled when I walked into the kitchen. My hair was unbrushed. I was wearing the same clothes I slept in, and I am sure I probably looked miserable. I pretended not to notice her reaction and sat down at the kitchen table where my grandmother was husking corn. They were preparing dinner.

  I had spent all day in bed. Time didn't seem relevant while I laid there. I could have spent days there and I would not have known.

  "You slept all day," my mom said too brightly. "How about a little snack until dinner?"

  I shook my head. Wasn't hungry.

  "You have to eat something," Grandma insisted.

  "I'm too fat," I said, and didn't recognize my voice. It was hollow and hoarse.

  "Right. You're already fat, so what's another snack?"

  I shook my head again. If they were going to force me to eat, I was going to go back to bed.

  "Your brother is coming for dinner," Mom beamed.

  My brother Angelo was the perfect son. He went through a million years of schooling to become a doctor. He married the beautiful Alicia, also a doctor, and they recently produced a baby, my parents' one and only grandchild.

  "Aren't you excited?" Mom asked.

  "She's ecstatic," Grandma said dryly. "Can't you tell?"

  Mother and daughter-in-law argued and chatted while I stared out of the sliding glass doors. I didn't hear their words, just muffled voices. I wasn't thinking of anything except returning to bed. I still felt like I was dying.

  I didn't even notice when my brother and his family came in. I thought I heard something that sounded like my name, but I didn't respond. I just kept staring at the yard and the vineyard beyond that.

  "Lindsey!" Fingers snapped in my face.

  I blinked and looked up at my brother. His brow was furrowed and he frowned.

  "Hello," I said.

  "I called your name at least five times," he said and fished a pinlight out of his pocket. Who just carries a pinlight?

  "Are you on drugs?" He asked, shining the light in my eyes.

  "Of course she's not!" Mom yelled.

  "Leave your sister alone," Alicia said with a gentle smile. In her arms was a sleeping baby girl. Carmen was only two months old.

  "Linny is just having a rough go of things," Grandma said and then turned on my sister-in-law. "Alicia, you're supposed to lose weight after the baby. What the hell have you been eating? Looks like you ate somebody else's baby."

  As conversation shifted away from me, I zoned out again. I snapped back to reality long en
ough to fake my way through dinner. I had to look like I ate, while in reality I ate nothing.

  After dinner the family moved into the living room. Mom forced Carmen into my arms. She stood above me watching, waiting for me to coo about how pretty she was, or to show the excitement I had when I first heard she was born. But I didn't do any of that. I simply looked down into her sleeping face and Mom walked away, disappointed.

  I again lost focus of the conversation as I stared at my new niece. How lucky she was to be new, able to start life from scratch, make better decisions than those before her, and to hopefully never experience heartbreak and agony.

  I envied her.

  I won't bore you with details of the few days that followed. It was much of the same, except I took to sitting on the deck instead of the kitchen.

  My family left me alone, but I would sometimes hear my dad trying to comfort my worried mother. Grandma tried to stuff food down my throat every now and then, but stopped calling me fat.

  I didn't eat. I didn't watch television, and I tried not to talk to anyone. I listened to my iPod, though. The music was both destructive and soothing at the same time. I could not get enough of songs that tore me apart and poured salt into my wounds. I listened to Broken by Leona Lewis so many times, I should have been paying her some kind of royalty.

  On day five of my trip, I was sitting on the deck, looking over the yard. It struck me how plain it looked. My mother wasn't into gardening and my dad was satisfied just to have nice grass and a place to grill. I felt a little pull inside of me, and after awhile I went to find my mom.

  "Can we go to a nursery?" I asked her. I found her in the formal dining room, sipping tea and reading a cookbook.

  "A nursery?" She looked confused.

  "Yes. For flowers."

  "Absolutely," she gave a relieved smile.

  Maybe she was relieved that I didn't want to go to a baby nursey and eat babies, but she was probably relieved that I was talking, and wanted to leave the house.

  I stood there, waiting for her to get up. She looked at me blankly for a moment before she realized why I was still there.

  "Oh! You mean now?"

  "Yes."

  "Maybe you should...change your clothes."

  "Change them? She needs to burn those things," Grandma said, shuffling into the room. "You've been wearing the same clothes for four days. Can't you smell yourself? I can smell you. You don't smell too good. Even when you don't want to deal with life, you should always wash your ass and cooter everyday."

  My mom closed her eyes, probably praying for godly intervention so she wouldn't kill her mother-in-law.

  I removed my stinky ass and cooter from the room.

  It took me an hour to get ready. Five day old ass and cooter was no joke. I contemplated burning my clothes, but instead I settled on trashing my disgusting panties and throwing the rest in the wash. With extra detergent.

  "You shed twenty pounds in dirt and dry skin," Grandma said when I announced I was ready.

  Mom sighed. "No, I think she shed twenty pounds of actual flesh."

  We filled the back of Mom's Escalade with plants and flowers. We dropped that stuff off and then made another trip to buy gardening tools and soil and other things.

  By the time I was able to get started, it was late afternoon. Just the smell of the dirt and flowers brought a small smile to my face. Feeling the dirt in my fingers was soothing, and I actually sighed.

  I worked alone. My mom would sometimes watch me for a few minutes, but said nothing. My dad asked me questions about what I was planting, but didn't linger long. Grandma was harder to shake. She followed me around, updating me on the lives of my cousins and uncles and aunts. I didn't mind. Sometimes I even asked questions.

  By day eight, the yard had transformed from a boring back yard, to a place to be admired. I worked from sun up until after the sun set. I made my parents buy nice furniture to put by the bigger of the three gardens I created.

  We ate dinner outside that night. Angelo, Alicia, and Carmen came, too. Everyone was so pleased with all of the work I did. I was pleased, too.

  I was still hurting. I still cried when I was alone, but I felt the poison slowly leaving me. I was somehow doing the impossible and living through the pain.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  "Come take a ride with me," Dad said on the morning of day nine.

  I followed him out to his car. I looked on with idle curiosity as he punched an address into his GPS.

  "Where are we going?"

  "You'll see," he said. And that was all I got about that.

  The conversation was light during the drive. He mostly spoke about a fishing trip he wanted to take to Canada, but first he wanted to take my mom to Italy and Paris.

  Finally, we arrived at our destination. I was confused. We were in front of a vegetable stand. It was really a small building with an attached small green house. It was closed, out of business. There was a big FOR SALE sign on the front lawn of the farm house next to it.

  "They're closed," I said, slipping my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. I noted that my butt wasn't filling out my jeans like it used to. "That sucks."

  "That's okay. I didn't come here to buy veggies. Let's look around."

  I was really perplexed now. Was he thinking of buying the place? What for?

  I followed him down a dirt road that ran between the house and the store. Behind the store was a small gravel parking lot, meant for customers. Behind the house was space for a few cars to park, and a decent size back yard. Beyond the two structures was a small barn and beyond that there were gardens that were overgrown, a small field that looked like it used to grow vegatables or fruit, and then beyond all of that I saw a few rows of grape vines.

  It may seem to you that this was a large sprawling area, but the place was actually small. Quaint was a better term. It appeared that a normal, everyday family decided to plant some stuff and then sell it.

  "This has potential," I said to Dad.

  "You think so?"

  "Yeah, but why do you want to buy it? You don't know anything about gardening or farming."

  "No, I don't," he said with a smile. "But my daughter does."

  Then it dawned on me why he brought me.

  "You want me to buy this?"

  "No, I want to buy it for you."

  "You're crazy!" I stumbled back a few steps.

  "Listen, Lindsey. You do great work. You know all about this kind of stuff, how to plant it, how to make it grow."

  "Yeah, but..." I was at a loss for words.

  "It's not just that you're good at it, but..."

  What? Was my dad trying not to cry?

  "I don't know what happened between you and this guy. I just know that you're in a lot of pain. Even after all that asshole Gary did to you, you didn't look that...dead, like you did a few days ago. I know you're still not yourself, but this stuff really helps you. I want to give this to you, Linny. I can't fix your broken heart, but I can help."

  Told you my daddy was a loving father.

  I wiped away a couple of tears and threw my arms around my dad.

  "What if I fail?" I asked.

  "Then at least you'll have a house, but you won't fail," he promised, rubbing my back.

  I released him from the hug and said "What am I supposed to do about money? I can't plant a money tree."

  He chuckled. "You'll generate enough business to live. Until that happens, don't worry about anything. Do the best you can and we'll make up for the rest."

  "You're giving me too much," I said, shaking my head.

  "I haven't given you enough," he argued.

  We could argue that all day if I allowed it. I've never asked my parents for anything, even though they had the means to do a whole lot, but I didn't feel like they owed me anything either.

  "I could pay you back," I said. "After I sell my house."

  "This is a gift, Linny. I don't want your money. I just want you to be happy."


  I looked at the big house.

  "What am I supposed to do with a house that big?"

  He shrugged. "I'm sure you can find ways to fill it up, or you can rent it out and get an apartment, or live at home."

  "What about the grapes? I don't know anything about making wine. And I don't know if I can do all of this by myself."

  "The guy that owns the vineyard behind us said he'll teach you everything. I talked to him before we left. I know some people who can help you out with the other stuff."

  "Are they legal?" I asked cautiously.

  "Define legal."

  "Dad!"

  "Yes, they're legal. So, you think you wanna do this?"

  I turned in a slow circle, taking in the property. Could I do this? Did I want to do this?

  I looked at my dad, who looked hopeful.

  "Well..."

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Oh my. Oh wow. There was a sexy, tanned, sweaty, rugged, hot Italian man caressing my bare foot and ankle. If he touches my toes, I'm going to pee myself.

  Ohhh.

  I clenched my thighs together, which only made things worse. He stroked my toes!

  "Do you feel any pain in your toes?"

  I shook my head as I looked into his bright blue eyes.

  "I think you just twisted it a little," he said. "To be safe, you should stay off of it today."

  "I can't do that," I said. "There's too much work to do."

  "That's what I'm here for." He grinned at me.

  He still had my foot in his lap, and he was still caressing my ankle. I was so glad that I had taken the time to get a pedicure the day before.

  "You know I like to work and get dirty," I said, and then immediately blushed at my choice of words.

  Ignacio chuckled. "Yes, I know, but take a break today. I insist."

  "I can pull rank and go work anyway."

  "You are the boss," he conceded. "But I'll call your mom and tell on you."

  I gasped. "You wouldn't."

  "Try me," he said in a low tone and gazed at me in a way that made me squirm.

  "You play dirty," I murmured.

  "You have no idea...boss." He gently moved my foot, got up, and then settled my foot on the chair.