All the Broken Pieces

by Cindi Madsen

  Liv leaned against her dresser. “Does that mean I can’t ever bring it up?”

  “Of course not.” There was an edge to Mom’s voice that said if she did bring it up, though, everything would be tense again.

  Sighing, Liv looked down and focused on her shoes. Today she’d gone with her Converse sneakers. The who-cares-what-everyone-else-thinks voice approved; the girly, cares-about-being-popular side balked at the blackness. “Before the accident was I more the perky, happy type or the girl-power type?”

  “You’ve always been my beautiful, intelligent girl.”

  Such a Mom response. Not really answering the question, but nice. “Who was a loner.”

  “What can I say? Like mother, like daughter.” Mom folded her arms and rested her hip against the doorframe. “I’ve never been very good with people. I studied neurosurgery because I found it fascinating, then I used that knowledge to try to better others’ lives. That was my way of connecting with people.”

  Mom gazed across the room for a moment, seemingly lost in the past, then straightened. “Anyway, I was hoping you’d come help me with dinner.”

  “Sure,” Liv said. As she and Mom walked down the stairs, though, she couldn’t get Elizabeth off her mind. “Hey, Mom, was I friends with any little brunette girls? Like nine or ten years old?”

  Mom’s steps slowed. She gripped the banister. “Friends,” she said, drawing out the word. “Not that I can think of. Why?”

  “I had the strangest dream. It seemed so real, like a memory. A faded, fuzzy memory. Only, people I didn’t know were there.”

  Liv expected Mom to turn around to face her, but she continued down the stairs, all business again. “Your mind probably came up with those images while you were in a coma. It’s your brain’s way of keeping itself going.”

  Again Liv saw Elizabeth smiling at her, thumb in the air. The thought of her not being real made her heart knot. “So, they’re just imaginary?”

  “That’s what dreams are, sweetheart. Sure, sometimes there are figments of reality mixed in, but it’s usually all skewed. That’s what makes them seem so real.” Mom hit the bottom step and continued to the kitchen.

  Feeling silly for getting so worked up over a dream, she tried to snuff out her emotions. As she walked into the kitchen, she pulled a strand of hair up front, like she’d done in her dream. Pink might look kind of cute.

  It did look cute, but it got old fast.

  That can’t be right. No way Mom would ever let me do anything so crazy.

  Yet, something tickled her memory. Elizabeth looking at her, eyes wide, saying, You’re going to be in so much trouble.

  6

  Liv covered a yawn as she came down the stairs. She’d slept in, so she shouldn’t still be so tired. As she neared the kitchen, she heard Mom’s voice. “It sounds great, darling. Someday I’d love to do it, but I’ve got to pick up Olivia from school. Plus there’s still the chance she’ll change her mind and want to take up lessons at home again. I want to be here for her if she needs me.”

  Through the open entryway, she saw Dad seated on one side of the table. “But Olivia’s adjusting to school so well. And—”

  “No one else has the skills to care for her like I do. Sometimes I’m still afraid that everything she’s been through…like one day we’ll wake up and everything will be undone. You’re careful when you talk about Minnesota, right?”

  Liv froze, a strange feeling pricking her skin. What does Mom mean by undone? And why does Dad need to be careful talking about Minnesota? Mom and Dad had told her how she’d wrecked her car into a tree and almost died, but they never went into much depth about that night and would change the subject whenever she tried to talk about it. Actually, they hardly talked at all about their lives from the time before she came out of her coma.

  Dad sighed. “Of course I’m careful. You remind me every day all that’s at risk. It’s another reason you need something else to think about. I know you, Victoria. You’re happiest when you’re busy, and I think it would be good for you to get out of the house and meet some people. It’s only a few hours, then you’d be home shortly after Livie was done with school.”

  Liv wasn’t sure what they were talking about, but she didn’t want to be the reason Mom couldn’t do something. Plus, she didn’t know how much longer she could deal with listening to them talk about her like she might break any minute.

  She stepped into the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

  Mom was seated opposite Dad, a steaming mug in front of her.

  Dad leaned back in his chair. “You know how your mom’s always trying new cooking techniques and recipes?”

  Liv nodded. “Yeah.”

  “I’m trying to talk her into taking a cooking class, but it’s a little bit later in the day. It ends about thirty minutes after school, so she’s worried about how you’ll get home.”

  “You should take the class. I can ride the bus home.”

  Disgust overtook Mom’s features. “You’re not riding the bus. There are far too many germs, and no seat belts, and just—no.”

  Liv reached into the stainless steel fridge, took out the milk, and poured herself a glass. Walking home would take forever, and with the heat she’d dehydrate in minutes. But there had to be a way to work it out. “There’s some benches in front of the school, so I could sit there and do my homework while I wait for you to pick me up.”

  “There are benches outside the school. Is implies singular.”

  It took her a moment to realize Mom had been correcting her grammar. “Anyway, I think you should take the cooking class. It’ll be fun.” And give you something to focus on besides me and how fragile I supposedly am.

  Dad slid the brochure across the table to Mom. “Several people will still be around for sports practice and that kind of thing, so Livie won’t be all alone.”

  “It would be nice to have something to keep me occupied now that you two are out of the house all day.” Mom looked at her. “But I don’t want you to catch heatstroke.”

  Liv drained her glass of milk. “I’ll take a water bottle, so I’ll be fine. Just do it.” When Mom didn’t say anything, she pushed harder. “Remember the suffocating thing? Neither of us should miss out on new experiences.”

  “Well, I could always use more recipes to add to our dinner menu. And some adult conversation would be nice.”

  Behind Mom’s back, Dad grinned at Liv and gave her a thumbs-up.

  She smiled. Then she wondered if he’d done that before. Maybe that’s why the gesture was in my dream.

  “What?” Mom asked, looking from her to Dad.

  “Nothing,” he said. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with next. You’ve always been good with experiments.”

  A weirdness blanketed the room as Mom and Dad exchanged nervous glances.

  Liv placed her empty glass in the dishwasher. “What? Am I missing something?”

  “You’re perfect just the way you are,” Mom said.

  Mom’s strange reply and the way she and Dad were looking at her made her feel self-conscious. And a little freaked out.

  Mom shot out of her chair. “I’ve got to go change over the laundry.”

  Dad stared after Mom, then slowly looked up. “We’re so proud of all the progress you’ve made. You know that, right?”

  She nodded, still trying to catch up on what had just happened.

  Dad came over and squeezed her shoulder. He tried to smile, but too much sorrow hung on his features to pull it off. “Thank you for being such an easy kid to love. You have no idea how much that saves me.”

  The hair on the back of her neck rose. “Saves you?”

  “After everything that happened with the wreck…” His voice cracked. “We feel lucky you pulled through. That you’re here with us. You’re a good kid, that’s all I’m saying.” He squeezed her shoulder again, then walked out of the kitchen.

  The something’s-not-right sensation crawling across her skin was nothing new.


  The flicker of mistrust for her parents was.

  Her arm chose that moment to spasm. It smacked into the top rack of the dishwasher, sending shooting pain through her wrist and up her forearm and reminding her of the fact that she was far from perfect.

  And now she was beginning to think that her parents might not be as perfect as she thought, either.

  …

  “Olivia? Do you have a minute?” Mom stood in the open doorway.

  At first she was going to say no. All day she’d steered clear of her parents, so she wouldn’t have to face this sudden uncertainty she felt toward them. They’d helped her recover from her accident. They were all she had, really, and she needed everything to be okay between them. Then she saw the square black book Mom held in her arms.

  “I found something you might want to look at.” Handling the book as if she thought it might break, Mom placed it on Liv’s bed and flipped open to the first page.

  Liv leaned in for a closer look. Mom and Dad stood under a floral-adorned archway. A frosty veil covered Mom’s dark hair. Her white gown with lace overlay had a long train; she held a bouquet of calla lilies. Dad wore a tux with a black vest and a bow tie. Mom leaned in to him, a hand on his chest, smiling at the camera.

  “Whoa,” Liv said. “Dad used to have long hair.”

  Mom smiled at the picture. “He’s always been so handsome. And tall—just like you.”

  From her earliest, fuzziest memories of waking up, she remembered Mom sitting by her bed and talking to her for hours. Mom had mentioned working with Dad in the hospital. “You said you guys first met at work, right?”

  Mom nodded. “When he transferred to the hospital, all the women talked about how handsome the new cardiac surgical resident was. I was far too focused on work to think about men—handsome or not. But one day he grabbed my elbow and told me I needed to come to lunch with him. Turns out he thought I was too thin and that I needed to slow down and take better care of myself. I was furious at first—no one had ever talked to me like that.”

  A faraway look entered her eyes and she smiled. “Every day after that, he’d sit with me for lunch, we’d talk, and before I knew it was happening—before I could stop myself—I’d fallen in love with him.”

  Mom’s face lit up as she relayed the rest of the story: squeezing dates into their busy schedules; Dad taking her to a fancy restaurant, dropping down on one knee and asking her to marry him.

  The story ended with an account of their small wedding. “All the other women at the hospital were so jealous—none of them could believe he’d fallen for me. In fact, they used to say I had brains but no heart. But meeting your father, well, loving him taught me there was more to life. I guess you could say he fixed my heart, no surgery required.”

  In a lot of ways, Dad and Mom seemed so opposite. But they somehow fit together. What those women had said about Mom sent heat through her veins. Sure, sometimes Mom came across as harsh, and she was definitely overprotective, but her intentions were in the right place.

  Liv leaned her head on Mom’s shoulder. “Those women were wrong. I get a daily reminder of how big your heart is when you’re making sure I’m taking my pills, using my hand sanitizer, and eating healthy.”

  Mom kissed her forehead. “Thank you for that.”

  They continued looking through the photo album, and here and there, Mom would make comments about the pictures.

  One photo near the end of the album showed Mom, side profile, stomach protruding, Dad’s hand on her belly. The picture had been torn apart and taped back together.

  “Why’s this picture like that?” Liv asked.

  Tears filled Mom’s eyes. “The doctor told me…” Mom threw her arms around her. “I have you. They said I couldn’t have a baby, but I have you.”

  When Mom sat back a minute later, her lashes were wet and clumped together; her nose and eyes were red. “Back in those days we had to go somewhere to get our photos developed, but now everything’s digital.” She closed the book. “All of our digital pictures were saved on our old computer. We should’ve backed them up, but we didn’t, and when the computer died… All the pictures of you growing up are gone. I’m so sorry.”

  It all made sense now. This was why Mom had gotten so upset when she asked to see pictures. She patted Mom’s hand. “It’s okay. Like you’re always saying, the past is the past. From now on, I’m just going to focus on the future.”

  But as the words came out of her mouth, cold filled her entire body, like something didn’t want her to let go of the past. She got a flash of her younger self. A camera was aimed at her and she was smiling, telling whoever was taking the picture to hurry it up already. Then a twinge of pain shot through her heart, more like a memory of the ache she’d felt that day while her picture was being taken. As if in a dream, she watched herself crumple to the tile floor of an unfamiliar kitchen, felt everything inside of her aching, unable to catch her breath, the thought that this time she wasn’t going to make it to the hospital echoing through her mind.

  7

  Liv sat in the empty classroom, math book open on the desk in front of her, tapping her pencil to her lip as she worked on the problems. Going home meant dealing with Mom’s foul mood and a long list of chores, so the only way she could get her homework done was to stay after school.

  As she moved to write her answer, the silver charm bracelet on her wrist caught the light. She lifted her arm and studied the large heart. J + L was engraved on the front.

  Her nails were fake and French-tipped and her arms were toned and tan. She wore a lacy top that showed cleavage—she actually had quite a bit of it somehow—and tight jeans with rhinestones on the pocket. She shifted forward and her bangs fell into her face. Bangs that were pale blond.

  Looking around, she noticed that the chairs attached to the desks were blue instead of maroon-colored, which wasn’t right. Plus they looked beat up and old, their surfaces riddled with pockmarks and ink.

  Liv experienced that same feeling she got when she immersed herself in the tub, everything muted yet warm. Her cell phone rang, pulling her out of her daze. She took it from her pocket and stared at the pink floral covering. The name Courtney flashed across the display. She tossed her pencil on her book and answered.

  “Where are you?” Courtney asked. “The girls and I are heading to the mall. We might even catch a movie later.”

  Under no circumstances would she tell her friend she was hiding out at school, studying math. “I can’t tonight. I’ve got to…pick up an extra shift.”

  “You’re always at that damn restaurant. Can’t you take a night off?”

  “You know how it is,” Liv said, even though Courtney didn’t. Not really. Liv was careful not to let any of her friends see what her real life was like.

  “Fine. See you tomorrow at school. You won’t be too busy for me then, will you?”

  “I’ll try to fit you in. If you’re lucky.” She’d found that making a joke was the best way to keep people from taking too close a look or asking any more questions.

  Courtney laughed. “You better.”

  Liv hung up and got back to work on her assignment. She might not be the best at many subjects, but math was her thing, and she was determined to get amazing grades this year. It was her only shot at college, and college was her ticket away from Mom and out of Rochester.

  Besides, she actually liked math. Always had. It wasn’t anything that her friends would beam with pride over—in fact, they’d mock her endlessly. But she loved that moment when she saw how to solve the problem she’d thought might be unsolvable only seconds ago.

  “What are you still doing in here?” a deep voice asked, making her jump.

  Mr. Schaeffer stood in the open doorway. He’d decided she was a problem student, and nothing could change his mind. Liv didn’t like him, either. She didn’t trust older men in general. Too many bad run-ins, thanks to Mom.

  It didn’t help that Mr. Schaeffer had also given her a
couple of referrals for things she couldn’t help. Like being late because her car wouldn’t start and Mom was too hungover to drive. Or the time she’d sworn in class—okay, that one was probably a little her fault.

  She swallowed, trying to hide the fact that her heart was beating too fast and her hands were shaking. “Mrs. Taylor knows I’m here. She’ll be right back.”

  Mrs. Taylor did let her study in her classroom and was usually there to help out if she needed it. She was the one teacher Liv liked—that was another secret she hid from her friends. But Mrs. Taylor’d had to leave early that day.

  Mr. Schaeffer narrowed his eyes, staring at her for an agonizing eternity, then finally left. As soon as he was gone, she stood and gathered her books. Time was up anyway; Mom would be calling soon, asking where she was. Later, when Mom was asleep or busy and Liv was so tired the numbers would swim together, she’d have to finish her homework.

  All the extra hours of studying would be worth it someday. Because someday, she would do something amazing with her life. She was going to be somebody.

  She just needed to survive the next few years first.

  …

  Monday morning, frantic energy coursing through her veins, Liv entered the school. Today was going to be different.

  All morning she’d thought about her odd dream, where she wasn’t really herself but everything still felt hauntingly familiar. Even though it hadn’t really been her in the dream, it gave her this boost of confidence, as though the skills to fit in—even if it was a fake, hidden part of herself—were buried in her brain somewhere, if she could just dig deep enough.

  She spotted Sabrina, Candace, and Taylor. Usually she kept to the fringe of the group. Even then, she’d only go over if Keira was there. Not today, though. The need to be accepted was in overdrive, telling her to go up and be bold.