Shattered

by Alicia Renee Kline

  “Did I break your heart?” I asked before I could stop myself.

  “Yes.” The word was simple, matter of fact. He was merely being honest; there was no ill intent.

  I swallowed down the lump that formed in my throat. “You broke mine, too.”

  “I know. I also know that I’m fairly certain you’re the only reason that I still have a heartbeat.”

  “What do you mean?” I stared down at him, unseeing. The moonlight had all but disappeared now and the bedroom was awash in darkness.

  “Because every time I considered ending the suffering, I thought about being here with you, listening to yours. And even though it had the most remote possibility of ever happening it was still enough to snap me out of it, if only just barely.”

  “So is it everything you thought it would be? Lying here, I mean.”

  “It’s better than I could have ever imagined.”

  “I agree,” I admitted.

  Content, he fell silent. My mind kept spinning, contemplating just how much truth was contained in his description of the months since we had seen one another. Given his past he’d be well within his rights to have a flair for drama, but that wasn’t the Matthew that I knew. We had never really discussed his jail time, we’d more or less glossed over that. If he’d wanted to make me feel sorry for him before, he certainly could have milked that for all it was worth. Instead, he’d kept quiet on the subject. But he’d categorized my disappearance from his life as being a period of suffering that he’d thought about taking drastic measures to end. Couple that with the suicide watch comment he’d dropped earlier, and I had a good feeling why Chris wasn’t my biggest fan. I sort of hated myself for what I’d done, too.

  I stared down at him, my eyes slowly adjusting to the absence of light. I could make out his silhouette in the moonlight, nothing more. Though he towered over me the majority of the time, tonight he seemed small and vulnerable. Maybe it had to do with him lying on me, maybe it was what he’d just told me. Either way, I wrapped my arms around him tighter, vowing that I wouldn’t let go this time.

  Eventually the tension in his body released and I felt his muscles relax. My eyelids grew heavy and I couldn’t fight them anymore. I joined him in sleep, my visions of him as an angel in my recurring dream suddenly taking on a whole new meaning.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Good morning, George,” I said brightly as I breezed past him at the coffee pot on Monday morning.

  Almost overnight spring had morphed into summer and it was shaping up to be a hot one, but I still needed my daily dose of caffeine. So what if it was silly to drink a hot beverage when dressed in a sleeveless pantsuit? Coffee was one of my only vices and I embraced it. Plus, it was too early to grab a Coke from the vending machine. I did have my standards.

  “Morning, Lauren,” he said as he replaced the coffee pot. It didn’t have a chance to rest before I snatched it up and poured my first cup. “Good weekend?”

  I couldn’t help but break out into a stupid grin. “You could say that.”

  He raised an eyebrow as he gave me the once over. God love him, he probably hadn’t seen me this upbeat since my first day on the job. I imagined I scared him.

  “I should have known,” he said with a smile, “after all, you didn’t beat me here this morning. For a moment, I was afraid that you were going to call off.”

  “Oh George,” I said with a giggle, “now that would be out of character for me.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  George followed me back to my office, reclining in the high-backed chair across my desk as I took my own seat. I’d made the trek to the break room even before I’d put my belongings away or fired up my computer. I grabbed my purse off the desktop, stuffing it into my bottom drawer while hitting the power button for my workstation. I then slid open the drawer above it, reaching in for the picture frame that I knew would be found inside. I pulled it out and placed it in its rightful position on my desk.

  While I was readying my work area, George sat in silence and sipped his coffee, studying me. His eyes shone with a mixture of amusement and concern. Perhaps he thought I’d really lost it now. I supposed I couldn’t blame him.

  “So how was your weekend?” I asked, “Did you go up to the lake?”

  He nodded, setting his mug on the corner of my desk. He and his wife were lake enthusiasts, like a large portion of Indiana residents. On weekends, he typically traveled up north to what we referred to fondly as lake country. They were lucky enough to own a small cottage that they frequented during the late spring and summer months. He’d made mention of inviting me up there someday, but having fun in the sun hadn’t exactly meshed with my gloomy spirits as of late and the offer hadn’t been extended since. That wasn’t a reflection of his inhospitality but rather of my social awkwardness.

  “I’d enjoy coming up sometime,” I said nonchalantly, “if I wouldn’t be intruding, of course.”

  I typed my password into my computer and watched for his reaction out of the corner of my eye. He kept his composure remarkably well.

  “Oh sure, no problem,” he responded after only missing a beat, “you should bring a friend or two.”

  I smiled back at him. “Just let me know when works for you and we’ll call it a date.”

  “So,” he said, gesturing to the picture of myself, Matthew and Blake that had reappeared on my desk, “I take it you got things figured out?”

  “I think so,” I hedged, “at least we’re getting there.”

  Though Blake had been friendly enough to me Saturday night at dinner, there was still a lot to address. Part of me knew that we had to have a few more discussions before everything between us was settled. As much as I would have loved to have swept everything under the rug and pretended nothing had happened, I wanted her to hear me out. I harbored quite a bit of guilt at the actions I’d taken, even if she’d be willing to forgive and forget. We hadn’t had enough of an opportunity to speak freely when Matthew had stepped out to get the pizza; there was still air to clear between the two of us.

  As for Matthew, we hadn’t put a name on what we were to one another. It seemed rather juvenile to think about calling him my boyfriend – after all, he was thirty and I was nearing twenty-seven. We definitely weren’t just friends, our activities this weekend had proven that. And our declarations of love put us on a whole different level than merely being friends with benefits. A classification of our relationship wasn’t important to me anyway.

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to have second thoughts about buying your home.”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m really glad I did. Don’t get scared; I’m not about to stick a for sale sign in the yard and go back to renting. I’ll continue to pay my mortgage, even if my job didn’t depend on it.”

  He laughed. “I’m glad things are working out for you. I know you’ve had a rough time since you came on board.”

  “Yeah,” I admitted, “but I think I’ve found my home.”

  “Good to hear it. And not just for my own selfish reasons. Honestly, I think I’d have a nervous breakdown if you decided to resign. Not just because you’re doing a fantastic job, but because I like you as a person.”

  “I know. Thanks.”

  He rose from his chair, our weekly Monday morning chat over. The clock was just about to strike eight; time to go to work. My staff was beginning to shuffle in the door, fresh off of their own weekend hangovers.

  “Have a good day, Lauren,” George said as he claimed his coffee cup and turned to leave.

  “I will. You, too.”

  My email inbox was overflowing, much like it was most every morning. The message that caught my eye first, however, was clearly personal. Gracie was obviously working the early morning drive up shift, for she had sent it just a few moments ago. We didn’t often send each other emails from work since they were being monitored by someone, somewhere, and when we did they were written in shorthand that wouldn’t make sense to a
nyone else. This message said simply: Have you seen him again?

  I grinned as I typed my response: Right after we got off the phone. I quickly hit send.

  Her response was almost immediate. A smiley face. I sent her the same in return and deleted our conversation.

  I was knee deep in my work when Jeff came in a couple hours later with a stack of files. He dumped them unceremoniously into the chair that George had occupied earlier.

  “Good morning, Jeff,” I greeted.

  He turned on his heel and left without saying a word. Perhaps he hadn’t heard me. Oftentimes when he brought me my interoffice mail, I was on the phone or I didn’t acknowledge him at all. Maybe he had other things on his mind. Whatever. I shrugged it off and went back to my computer screen.

  Jeff was in the break room as usual when I came in to take my lunch. I grabbed my bag out of the freezer and popped my TV dinner into the microwave. When it was successfully heated through, I retrieved it and took it back to the table, sitting in my normal seat across from him.

  “Did you have a good weekend?” I asked.

  He stared down at his sandwich. Just as I deduced that he wasn’t going to answer me, he responded. “I bet you did.”

  Heat rose to my cheeks as I immediately knew what he was referring to. After all, he had been the one to notice Matthew waiting for me in the parking lot Friday evening. He’d put two and two together and had come up with the correct answer. I didn’t need to confirm anything; he already knew and he was jealous.

  I cleared my throat and quickly ran through my options. What could I say that would be appropriate in this circumstance? Jeff was this poor guy with an unrequited crush on me. His fantasies would never come true for a multitude of reasons, one of the most important being that I was his superior at the workplace. Never mind that there was no attraction to him on my part. We weren’t even friends; I’d merely started talking to him at lunch because no one else did. It had been an act of sympathy on my part. Now it had completely backfired.

  “It was okay,” I voiced lamely, stirring my mashed potatoes with my fork to avoid eye contact. I hadn’t quite been able to keep the happy, shout it from the rooftops inflection out of my voice. I wasn’t able to lie with conviction to anyone, even him. And I could tell he knew it.

  He snorted, glaring at me. I wanted to cower under the table, the part of me that hated confrontation coming to the surface. This was going to get ugly, I could tell.

  “I thought you were different,” he said after giving it some thought.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’d heard the rumors about you. About how you were dark and brooding all the time because your relationship with your boyfriend was headed south. How he didn’t want you to move here. How you were in this crazy, soap-operaish love triangle with him and your roommate’s brother.”

  I set down my fork and pushed the plastic tray away. Suddenly I wasn’t very hungry. I bit my lip and stared at him, preparing to take a lecture from someone who had no idea what he was talking about.

  “I didn’t want to believe it was true. I wanted to believe that you weren’t like that. That you were respectful of people’s feelings. That you wouldn’t cheat on your boyfriend.”

  “I didn’t cheat on Eric.”

  Well, not really. Even though I had used that terminology myself when I had spoken to my dad, Jeff didn’t need to know that.

  “You broke up with him because you loved the other guy, right?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and sighed. Damn him for being right, at least in part. “Eric and I would have broken up regardless.”

  “Would you have?”

  His tone was accusatory. I didn’t like it. I shouldn’t have to defend myself to an intern, but here I was.

  “Eric and I were moving in different directions. We were trying to hold together something that had been broken for a long time. Me moving here was really the final nail in our coffin.”

  “So that’s why he proposed to you? To fix a dying relationship?”

  My mouth opened involuntarily. How had he known that? To my knowledge, I hadn’t publicized that piece of trivia. The rumor mill at work was good, but not that good.

  “Since when are you Team Eric?” I shot back.

  “You’re just like every other girl. You fall for the hot guy with the fast car. He’ll pretend that he’s into you for five minutes, then he’ll dump you like he has everyone else before you.”

  “Thank you for your concern, but it’s really none of your business. And since you brought up the subject, does Eric driving a BMW mean that he’s snobby and full of entitlement issues? Because I think you may be on to something there.”

  I rose from my seat, snatching up my uneaten lunch. I didn’t have to listen to this. I angrily stalked over to the trash can and disposed of the plastic tray, ready to make a retreat back to my office. Unfortunately, Jeff wasn’t yet ready to let this drop. He stood up as well, prepared to keep the conversation going. If I hadn’t been part of the subject matter, I would have been proud of him. It was the most words I’d ever heard him string together.

  “If you knew what I did about that guy, you wouldn’t think he was so wonderful.”

  I froze in place. “How do you even know who he is?”

  “He’s your ex roommate’s brother, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Lauren, I’m not stupid. All I had to do was find out where you used to live.”

  “Are you stalking me, Jeff?” I asked, attempting to keep my tone light. We had all joked about it here at work, but I hadn’t given it serious thought until now. Following someone around like a puppy dog was one thing, snooping around in their personal life was different entirely.

  He didn’t answer my question directly; I hadn’t expected him to. “I work in a freaking mailroom, give me some credit. Once I had your old address, I just had to go to the county assessor’s website to find out who the property owner was. I kept my fingers crossed that it was her and not some slumlord.”

  Of course I knew how he could get that information. Anyone who worked in a mortgage department had probably done exactly the same thing. It was a great tool when used correctly. I was cursing it right now though.

  “When I typed her name into an internet search engine, you’d be surprised what results I came up with.”

  “Or I wouldn’t.”

  Blake had told me herself that the majority of the story was well documented on the internet. I hadn’t seen it for myself, but obviously Jeff had. I figured in some way that her name would be tied to Matthew’s in all of this, even though she hadn’t been directly involved in his legal problems. I was positive some newspaper article would have mentioned the Snyder family as a whole, linking her forever to what had transpired.

  “So you’re okay with dating someone who went to jail for doing exactly the same thing that killed your mother? I bet your dad is very proud.”

  It took all that I could do not to slap him. Instead, I deliberately moved our conversation out into the hallway. As embarrassing as this may be, I wanted witnesses. I closed my eyes, praying for composure and for George to decide he needed a refill of coffee right now.

  “Don’t you dare bring my mother into this.” My tone was low, my words filled with ice. He backed off just slightly, a flash of fear momentarily crossing his face before he returned to his hard expression.

  Again, I was sure that if he did enough digging he could find out about my mother’s death. With the accident happening long before the days of the information age, it would be infinitely harder than discovering Matthew or Blake’s story, but not impossible.

  We were now standing across from a row of cubicles that housed the consumer loan department. With it being the traditional lunch hour, several of the desks were unoccupied, but the people that were there were looking at us. Office drama brought attention, just like flowers and babies. Good.

  “Why not? Are you afraid she wouldn’t approve?”

  “
Jeff,” I said, “I’m an adult and totally able to make my own decisions.”

  He laughed harshly. Inwardly I cringed. “Is that so?”

  As the crowd around us grew, I debated what I had just said. Actually I had quite a problem with making decisions in my love life, but this one I was fairly certain of. And all that my dad had said about the issue led me to believe that my mother would have told me to follow my heart, no matter where it led me.

  I remembered back to Jeff’s comments in the break room Friday morning. How I had risen to almost celebrity status when he thought I had possibly been arrested. Apparently it was okay for me to be a bad girl, but for me to consider dating someone who had had his own set of legal problems was out of the question. Jeff’s double standard irritated me even more.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw George approaching. Either my silent prayer had worked, or someone had clued him in to my precarious situation. It didn’t matter, I had never been happier to see him.

  “Jeff,” he said when he was close enough to speak in a normal voice, “I need to talk to you in my office.” He took Jeff’s arm, directing him away from me.

  But Jeff wasn’t done. As George led him away, he turned back to face me. “I hope the sex was great. Don’t come crying to me when it’s over.” His voice was loud and full of contempt. Everyone heard.

  My face turned bright red and I wished I could sink into the floor. As if on cue, everyone else returned to their desks and resumed working. Fingers flew furiously across keyboards, no one else wanting to get into trouble.

  Clinging at whatever dignity remained, I hightailed it back to my own area. George’s office door was shut, and through the small window to the side, I could see Jeff’s back facing me as he sat at his desk. I didn’t make eye contact with my boss, keeping my focus only on getting back to my own office and shutting the door.

  About twenty minutes later, George knocked at the door and allowed himself in. He silently crossed the room, sitting down in his usual seat. We sat staring at each other for a moment.