Fractured ( Fractured #1)

by Holleigh James

  “This is yours?” I asked, trying not to sound shocked and envious.

  “My dad bought it two months before… before the fire.” Pride morphed into sadness. “My Uncle Rick said I could keep it, as long as I could make the payments. That’s why I switched my hours at the grocery store. Night shift pays more.”

  After making sure I was securely buckled in, he placed my things in the trunk and slid into the driver’s seat. The engine of the BMW roared to life, and then quieted to a low purr. The interior smelled like new leather. I wondered how someone so young could keep up the payments of something so expensive, no matter how much the night shift paid.

  “It’s a very nice car,” I said. And it was. I may not have been athletic or a stellar conversationalist, but with a mechanic for a father, and a brother obsessed with automobiles, I had a keen knowledge of cars. Other than his family, my father’s greatest love was cars. I guess that’s why he bought an automotive repair shop, so he could be around them all the time. “My dad would kill for a car like this.”

  “Me, too, but my unfortunate circumstances caused me to be in a situation where I didn’t have to wait until I was a hundred before I could get one. The life insurance policies my parents had paid off all their debts upon their deaths. Being an only child, I inherited all of their assets, including this car. Their insurance is paying for the restoration of the house, which I get when I turn eighteen in October. I’m sure they paid hefty premiums. I just have to keep up with the insurance payments, maintenance, and putting gas in it.” He looked at the steering wheel, as if he were embarrassed that he had benefited from a terrible loss. “My parents had a trust fund set up in my name. Monthly dividend payments are transferred to my account. I didn’t know anything about insurance policies or trust funds before it happened; but I thought it would be smart to pay as much attention as I could when the lawyers were explaining everything to me, my aunt, and uncle. I don’t have to worry about money.”

  There was nothing I could say to ease the pain he must have been feeling, so I stayed quiet.

  He continued talking as if he owed me an explanation about his financial status. “My dad was a research scientist. He discovered certain chemical combinations that help combat specific diseases. Some people paid big money for that research. My parents paid off the house, and the land it’s on, with the check from one of the formulas my father sold the patent for.” He alternated his eyes between the dashboard and me.

  Again, I didn’t know what to say, but I felt I should say something. “So you’ll move back into the house? “

  “I haven’t decided if I want to keep it or sell it, but because I’m still only seventeen, I don’t have to do anything, yet. I could live there forever, without worrying about paying for anything, or I can sell it and buy something that won’t remind me of what I lost. It’s a hard decision, but I’m trying not to think about that right now. I’m only staying with my aunt and uncle because I’m still a minor, and I have to make it through high school. Plus, parts of the house are uninhabitable right now. The construction company has been working on it for over two months.”

  “Oh.” That was a stupid response, but what could I say? So many questions ricocheted in my head, but I didn’t think it was my place to ask. Plus, I didn’t want to say the wrong thing and ruin such a perfect day. Straining my brain, I tried to come up with a more pleasant topic, but I could only think of how fascinating he was.

  “I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear about that,” he said, shifting the car into drive. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I caught a glimpse of Jimmy standing outside the concession. There was no hot girl with him. He was alone. It was odd. I wondered if he would tell my father. I turned my attention back to Rob.

  “You don’t owe me any explanation. I didn’t want to pry.”

  He eyes locked with mine for a second. I forgot everything except him.

  “Where do you live?” he asked.

  He followed my directions, and within minutes, he pulled up to the curb in front of my house. It would have taken me an hour to walk from the beach. Instead, I was home in fifteen minutes.

  Rob came around to my side and offered his hand to help me out of the car. Then he pulled all of my things from the trunk and put them on my porch.

  “I’m sorry if there’s sand in your car.” I felt awful about the mess that must be in the trunk. “I could vacuum it if you’d like.” I was careful to brush myself off before getting in, and kept my towel around my waist so that I wouldn’t get any on the seat.

  “Don’t be silly. It would have sand in it anyway,” he said. “I’ll take care of it when I get home.” Again, he looked at me, and my worries melted away.

  “Thank you for the ride,” I said, not wanting to sound ungrateful.

  “I had a very nice day, Mandy.” He looked at me, and I was swimming in his gaze.

  “I did, too. I never thought I’d like the beach so much.” I stroked the seashell with my thumb.

  His smile morphed into a wince. “You got sunburned. That’s my fault.” Why didn’t he notice sooner?

  “That’s okay. I’ll put a little white vinegar and aloe vera on it later; it helps take the sting out.”

  Another smile, with the dimple this time. “I’ll have to remember that. A cold shower would help to lower your body temperature, too.”

  I felt the burn from inside.

  If Dillon hadn’t run out from the house, I would have stood there all day. “Manny, Manny.” He ran right into my arms as if he hadn’t seen me in years.

  I gave him a big hug, despite the pain from my scorched skin. “I missed you, Dill.”

  Dillon’s only response was to squeeze my waist tighter. When he was finished hugging me, he stood back and looked at Rob. “Rob,” he said in a flat tone.

  “Hey, buddy. How was your day?” Rob made sure to look into Dillon’s eyes.

  “Planes.”

  “Oh, our dad took him to the airport to watch the planes take off and land. Dillon loves planes.”

  Dillon reiterated. “Planes.”

  “Wow, that’s great,” Rob said. “Maybe we could go together one day to watch the planes. Would you like that, Dillon?”

  “Planes.”

  “Okay, Dillon, go in the house. I’ll be right there.” And with that, he ran back from where he came. A glimpse of the quivering living room curtains told me that my father was hiding behind them, watching my interaction with the stranger who drove his daughter home in an incredible car; one he was probably drooling over. I turned toward Rob. “Thank you again for the ride and the nice day.” I was glad I had sunburn because I knew, without a doubt, it was masking my blushing cheeks.

  “Mandy… I’d like see you again,” he said.

  My heart leapt at the suggestion. Just name the time and date and I am so there. I felt like saying, “I don’t ever have to leave if you don’t want me to.” Instead, I said, “I’d like that.”

  “Maybe you could show me that creek you were headed to the other day; the one in your drawings.”

  “Sure,” I replied without hesitation. I’d never taken anyone there before, not even Dillon.

  Good-bye was awkward. I would have welcomed a kiss, but I knew my father was spying on me, and I really didn’t know Rob well enough yet. But, I wanted him to kiss me in the worst way.

  “Have a good night,” he said, as he stroked my arm. Every hair stood up straight and danced. He walked around to the driver’s side of the car, but didn’t get in. Instead, he waited until I walked through my front door.

  Not wanting to close the door for fear that he would disappear forever and I’d never see him again, I shut it slowly until it clicked in the doorframe. Then I ran to the window and stood next to my father. Both of us peered out from behind the curtains and watched as Rob drove away. We were both sad: me because Rob was leaving, and Dad because he was taking the BMW with him.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Who was that?” Dad’s tone was sh
arp.

  “His name is Rob Cooper. He’s Eric Bowman’s cousin.”

  “Why did he drive you home?” Dad’s eyes flashed me a suspicious glance. He was not keen on strange boys driving me home, not that I had ever done it before. In fact, he was not in favor of any boy even talking to me. My shoulders tightened. I looked away from his parental stare. But then I remembered why I needed a ride.

  “Well, if you’d let me have my own car, then I wouldn’t have to rely on other people bringing me home when Bryan leaves me stranded so he can chase girls. Rob offered me a ride so that I wouldn’t have to walk home by myself.”

  Dad readjusted his stance. My pointing out his double standard seemed to have caused him pause.

  “You know, Dad, I could be more independent, and I wouldn’t have to impose on anyone to take me everywhere if I had my own car. And, it would save me money not buying a new pair of sneakers every couple of months because of all the walking I have to do.” I hoped that made sense to him.

  He turned away, just as he had done every other time I brought up the topic. “We can’t afford it right now,” was his defense. What he really meant was, “I can’t let you be a normal teenager, especially an independent one. Someone needs to be home to take care of Dillon, and to keep an eye on your mother.”

  I brushed passed him and marched into the kitchen. “Yeah, well I’ve saved enough holiday and birthday money to buy my own car, and if someone was around to take care of Dillon when he came home from school, I could get a job to pay for the insurance.”

  I didn’t look back, but imagined his shocked expression. By his silence, I knew he realized I was right, but he didn’t want to do anything about our dysfunctional family. Instead, he wanted to continue to enable my mother, and his excuses for working late to avoid coming home were annoying.

  Bryan had two jobs. He was responsible for his own insurance. Dad even helped him with repairs to his car, free of charge. I had nothing of my own, except new art supplies. It was so unfair… but then, I was a girl.

  Banging the cabinet doors, I rummaged through each one, looking for ingredients for dinner. I hoped it sent the hint that I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Things would never change. Instead, I wanted to remember the nice day I spent with Rob, standing in the ocean, looking at the clouds on the horizon, getting to learn the ripples of his body through my pencil, without actually touching him.

  Dinner was the same old routine. Bryan had a knack for shirking any household responsibility. He and Jimmy walked in just as I was serving. Perfect timing.

  Dillon separated all of the items on his plate by color, and ate at his usual snail’s pace. Dad ate quickly. He went into the living room to watch the baseball game on television. No doubt, he wanted to avoid any rehash of our previous conversation. Bryan and Jimmy joined him, which left me, of course, alone to clean up. Although Mom preferred having liquid meals, I made a plate for her and left it on her nightstand. I tried to wake her, but it was no use; she was completely out of it. Maybe it was better; that way I wouldn’t have to duck if she flung the plate at me.

  I started a load of laundry while all four guys sat around the television set. I don’t think Dillon even knew what was going on. He was probably in his own world, but he sat on the couch and stared at the television like the rest of them.

  Mid-way through putting the pots away, Jimmy walked into the kitchen. “Need a drink or some chips?” I asked.

  “Nah. Came to see if you needed help.”

  He couldn’t be serious. “Ah, I’m just about finished here, Jimmy. You should’ve come in sooner. Thanks anyway.”

  “Sorry.” He was quiet for a few minutes. “Wanna talk?”

  Continuing with my task, I looked up at him. “About what?”

  “Nothin’ really, just talk.”

  “Okay, so talk.”

  “Who was that guy you were hangin’ out with at the beach today?”

  “Rob Cooper. He’s Eric Bowman’s cousin.”

  By Jimmy’s lack of reaction, I knew he didn’t know who Eric was. “Oh. I haven’t seen him around.”

  “There was a fire at Rob’s house. It killed his parents. He’s staying with the Bowmans until he turns eighteen.”

  That caught Jimmy’s interest. “Why? What happens when he’s eighteen?”

  I shrugged. “I guess he’ll move in to his parents’ house. He’ll be legal to own it then.”

  “Is that why you like him?” Jimmy ran his fingers along the refrigerator door handle. He bowed his head, his straight blond hair hung in his face.

  “No. He’s good-looking and nice. He came over and started talking. I couldn’t ignore him.”

  Jimmy looked up. He nodded in agreement, but it was obvious that he was disappointed that I had been talking to another guy. I guess he’s been picking up my father’s bad habits.

  “Besides, you and Bryan were out cruising the beach for hot babes,” I reminded him. A rosy color dusted his cheeks, and he looked down at his feet again. I gave him a light punch in the shoulder and smiled at him.

  “Yeah, I guess.” Still, he wouldn’t look at me. I knew that chasing girls was mostly Bryan’s idea. Jimmy would rather have stayed with me.

  “Yo, Jimmy, You’re missing all the good plays,” Bryan called from the other room.

  “We shouldn’t have left you,” Jimmy said, before walking back into the living room.

  What could I say to that?

  ***

  Monday morning, Dad practically inhaled his breakfast and placed his dirty cereal bowl in the sink.

  “You could have left it on the table. I would’ve cleaned it,” I said, walking into the kitchen.

  “You do so much around here, Mandy. It’s the least I can do.” He hesitated, and turned towards me. “I’m glad you’re talking to me again.”

  “I never stopped talking to you, Dad. We just don’t agree on certain issues.”

  He patted my hair and gave me the same look he used to when I was nine. Then he took a final sip of his coffee before placing the mug in the sink next to the bowl. “So, what do you have planned for today?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe I’ll go to the creek behind the Hanleys’ place. I can always find something to draw.”

  “All right. Say, I was thinking about what you said. Maybe you could help out a couple of days at the shop.” He scooped up his brown paper-bagged lunch and headed toward the front door. “I could pay you.”

  I felt a smile stretch across my face. “Really? That would be great!” I guess he did hear what I was saying.

  “Yeah, we can talk about it later, okay?”

  “Yes, yes. Of course. Thanks, Dad.”

  From where I stood in the kitchen, I saw him grab the handle on the front door. Just before he opened it, he turned to look at me. “Be careful today, okay?”

  “Dad. I’m always careful.” I gave him my best grin.

  He smiled back. “I know, but I have to say it.” He tugged the doorknob and walked out saying, “Tell Bryan he owes me three hours.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  “Thanks.” And he was gone.

  Dillon appeared in the kitchen. I made him breakfast and got him off to school in our usual style. Mom was another story. I pulled her arms until she sat up in the bed. Her hair could have been home to a whole family of sparrows. She was in the same clothes as the day before.

  “Stay sitting up,” I commanded, and she listened until I left the room. Searching through her bathroom cabinets, I found a washcloth. I ran it under warm water before soaping it up. With a clean towel from the closet, I returned to her bed, where she had slumped over. I put the washcloth and towel on the bed, and pulled her up again.

  “Mom… Mom, I’m going to wash your face and help you change your clothes.” I wasn’t sure what her blank expression was registering. Her eyes closed when I put the washcloth to her face.

  ”Stop! What are you doing? Help! Help!” Her body twisted to break free, but I held her stea
dy as I ran the washcloth over her body.

  “Mom, stop struggling.”

  “Get off!” she yelled. She swung a fist at my face. She missed at first, but connected with the second try and hit me in my jaw. I let go of her, and the counterbalance of her pull forced her back down on the bed. “Leave me alone. Get out of here!”

  I wouldn’t give up so easily. Trying to secure both of her wrists with one hand, I ran the cloth over the rest of her face, then her neck and her hands. The next battle was to lift her t-shirt over her head. After running the washcloth down her back and stomach, I took the towel and patted her dry. She fought me the whole time.

  When she was in clean clothes, I helped her down the stairs and sat her on the living room couch. Maybe a change of scenery would help.

  I turned on a talk show, hoping it would keep her entertained. I propped pillows up on either side of her to make sure she wouldn’t tip over. Although I was exhausted from the workout of getting her clean and dressed, I went into the kitchen. I stood at the sink and let the tears stream down my face. I couldn’t hold them back any longer. Stop this, Mandy. This is the way she is. You know that. There’s nothing you can do, until she wants to change.

  With a deep breath, I squared my shoulders, and poured her a cup of coffee. I placed the mug filled with the black liquid in her hand and commanded her to sip it.

  Her face twisted with disappointment when she realized I hadn’t spiked it. “This coffee is weak,” she said. I knew she wished it had alcohol in it. Her gaze was sharp and impaling.

  “I’m going to the creek,” I said, as I picked up my sketchpad and art bag.

  She held the coffee mug and looked at me. “So?” Her tone cut the air. She took another sip of the strong black brew and scrunched up her nose.

  Once I was out the door, I was sure she’d tear the house apart looking for any and all of what I poured down the sink. At least she wouldn’t find any in the hiding places that I was aware of. My tears welled up again, but I took a deep breath and stood up straight. Then I flung the bag with my art supplies over my shoulder and marched down the street. Think of something positive, something not my family… Rob.