Fractured

by Leanne Pearson

  “Yep, it’s pretty chaotic. An emergency management team has been dispatched. Urban search and rescue guys have been flown in from Australia to assist, too. Soldiers have been brought in to coordinate shutting off parts of the city. State Highway One is choked up with traffic. People are panicking,” he says, shaking his head solemnly.

  Uncle Dave pats Matt on the shoulder as he turns to leave.

  “Thank you, Matt, and best of luck with the harrowing task ahead of you, young man.”

  “Could you leave me your number, Matt?” I blurt out.

  I don’t know where that came from, just that I feel some affinity between us. Danny only had my safety in mind before the building collapsed, and Matt took over that role once I was pulled from the wrecked building.

  “Uh, yeah, sure.”

  He looks over at Mom and Uncle Dave briefly before pulling out his phone and offering to call mine so I’ll have his number to save as a contact.

  Mom sees Matt out, my chest feels heavy, and my head swims in a dizzy haze as I make my way back up to the bedroom with Danny’s ring grasped firmly in hand. Sitting on the unmade bed, I tear the envelope open, my emotions a seething combination of anger at the unfairness of his death, and an incapacitating sense of guilt as to why I was spared and he wasn’t.

  I want to tear things down, throw stuff around and scream, shout and cry until I’m hoarse. But I can’t, because I know if I open the floodgates to the ocean of tears that are damming up, I’ll be hit by a tidal wave of emotion that will drown me, and I can’t do that today. Today we honour Danny’s life.

  Two hours later, I step out of my uncle’s car with a rolling stomach and an overwhelming desire to run as far away from this church as my legs can carry me. Mom holds me close and leads me through the large church doors. One foot in front of the other, on weak and shaky legs, I just keep walking in my single-minded determination to make it to my seat. Without breaking down.

  I hear soft murmuring, and I’m suddenly the sole focus of a sea of faces before me. Some people start to cry when they see me. I see the pity in their eyes as they take in my appearance; arm in a sling, and my bruised and injured face. The sorrow in the small confines of this church is palpable. Pity is an emotion I don’t deserve from any of these people. I consciously avoid making eye contact with anyone, as if I had to focus, just for a moment on anybody in particular, I would lose it. My breathing is coming in shallow intakes now, a sense of dread knotting my stomach. Then suddenly Mrs Clayton is at my side.

  Must.

  Not.

  Cry.

  “Kate, honey,” she whispers into my ear as I step forward into her arms. An upsurge of grief and guilt hit me squarely in the chest as I embrace her; both of us overcome by suffocating heartache.

  I don’t deserve this family’s sympathy, nor comfort. Their precious boy would be alive today if it weren’t for me. My stupid, stupid suggestion to watch a movie resulted in their son’s death. He died saving me, too. A double blow.

  People pass us, stopping briefly to offer words of sympathy for my loss, my injuries. I just stand lifeless, Mom and Uncle Dave speaking on my behalf, alternatively supporting me with gentle strokes of my hair, and soft shoulder squeezes. As the service continues, the words floating around me barely penetrate the fog I’m in. I’ve zoned out and closed in on myself, taking every ounce of strength I have not to break down. I look around me slowly, starting to feel strange.

  The confined space. The large looming wooden structure above my head. It’s all too reminiscent of the cinema complex. My breathing becomes shallow and my heart beats wildly in my ears, as I feel the tendrils of fear insidiously slither across my skin.

  “You okay, Katy?” Sarah whispers, gripping my wrist gently.

  I blink rapidly as my head starts to spin, my body struggling to keep it together.

  A few people are glancing over at me now.

  “N-need some fresh air,” I say, as the walls of the church finally close in on me. Getting up from my seat, my heart beating frantically, I dash out of a side exit.

  Walking ahead briskly, unshed tears distort my vision. Coming to a stop around the rear of the church, I press my back into the cold wall. Bracing my good hand to the side of me, I squeeze my eyes shut. Clenching my teeth together, I resist the overwhelming need to give into a fit of sobs. I want to scream. My jaw hurts. The stitches in my face are stinging. My body feels bruised. The pain is deserved. The physical pain nothing compared to the crushing weight of grief and guilt that is causing every organ in my body to feel as though it’s bleeding into my core. My breathing is rapid and superficial. My insides, a quivering mass.

  Keep it together. Keep it together.

  If I don’t, this grief will swallow me up. Reminders of my years with Danny flash through my mind…

  Our first kiss in the rain.

  Skipping Uni together to watch a movie instead. Two love-struck teenagers passionately kissing in the semi-dark, oblivious to other people and the blockbuster on the big screen.

  Our picnics at Hagley Park. Lying out in the sunshine playing truth or dare, laughing until our sides hurt.

  The first time we made love...the brief sting of pain followed by the sweetest pleasure I’d ever known.

  Skiing on Coronet Peak. Hiking through Mount Aspiring National Park.

  Celebrating our first night together in our new home over cheap champagne and Chinese take-away.

  These memories are all I have left, and don’t do justice to the beautiful man he was.

  God, Dan. You were my soul-mate, my world. My heart is breaking right now, but I will love you with it, for the rest of my life.

  My lip starts to tremble, and it feels like I’m disintegrating as I swallow back the river of agonising emotions clogging my throat.

  “Kate.”

  My eyes move to Travis, Danny’s best friend. He’s staring at me, not saying a word.

  I stiffen, and slip my good arm under my sling, gripping my torso as a wave of grief slams into me.

  “Don’t, Trav.”

  He doesn’t move, picking up on my reluctance for any physical contact, but his eyes lock with mine.

  I look away, swallowing thickly before my eyes move back to his.

  “I-I should never have suggested watching a movie. We shouldn’t have been at the cinema on Tuesday, Travis,” I whisper.

  He moves up next to me, kicking a foot back against the wall and leaning into it. He drags his hands through his hair causing it to stick up more than it already is.

  “This isn’t your fault in any way, Kate. We’re powerless against the forces of nature. People just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “If only I could turn back the hands of time. That day could have panned out so differently, he’d still be here, Trav,” I say, still partly whispering.

  “He’s right, Kate. You aren’t in any way responsible for my brother’s death, babe.”

  My chest constricts at the words, and it feels as though my over-wrung emotions are sticks of dynamite, cohesively packed together and drifting towards the flame that’s going to detonate them imminently, as Chase, Danny’s older brother, comes into view.

  He offers me a small smile, pain tugging the musculature of a face so hauntingly similar to Daniel’s. There is a three-year age gap between the brothers. Chase is so much like Daniel that taking him in visually today is a kick to the gut. Just as handsome, same chocolate-brown eyes, dark brown hair, just more weathered looking. It doesn’t look as though he’s shaved for a few days, a dark stubble shadowing his strong jawline. Chase has been like a big brother to me over the past five years.

  “I’ll be inside,” Travis says as he heads back into the church, leaving Chase and I alone.

  “This isn’t your fault. Please stop thinking you were in any way responsible,” Chase says in a gentle tone.

  Biting down on my bottom lip to stop it from trembling, I cast my eyes down to my shoes, nudging a weed poking up from the co
ncrete under my feet with the tip of my black platform shoe.

  Stepping towards me, Chase takes a deep breath and turns me to face him.

  “You cannot blame yourself for what happened, Kate.”

  I ignore his comment. Yes, it is my fault. Nothing anybody says will change that undeniable fact. The earthquake would have happened, but we’d still be safely at home had I not suggested we go out.

  “My brother loved you so much. The week you hooked up with him, he told me you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever kissed. Said you stole the breath from his lungs when you smiled. He was gone for you, babe, from word go. You were his world. Believe me, the very last thing he’d want is for the love of his life to carry a burden of guilt over this. Don’t do this to yourself, please, Kate.”

  I suck in a faltering breath and slowly release it.

  “I...I can still smell him, can still feel him, Chase. I’m not ready to let him go.”

  The tension is stringing my voice so tight, I don’t recognise it as my own.

  Chase pulls me into a tight embrace. “I know babe, I know.” He’s trying so hard to keep it together; small tremulous shakes ripple across his shoulders. This almost undoes me. I almost, almost give in to the tears choking my throat. Taking a deep breath, scrubbing his hands down his face, he slowly pulls back to look down at me.

  “Katy,” I hear uncle Dave call out, walking towards us, concern creasing his brows. “Are you okay, sweetheart? Thought I’d give you a few minutes alone before I came to find you. I see Chase already has.”

  He squeezes Chase’s shoulder, before pulling me into a gentle hug. I’m too scared to breathe in case I shatter the fragile hold I’ve locked on my emotions.

  I pull back, taking my uncle’s hand in mine.

  “I’m dreading watching them put Daniel’s body into the ground, Uncle Dave. I...I’m not ready…to accept that he’s gone,” I say in a quavering voice.

  My uncle presses his lips into a thin line, his face contorting.

  “I understand, sweetheart. Nobody is going to force you to endure something you feel you can’t cope with right now. Not after all you’ve been through.”

  I stifle back a sob that bubbles up in my throat, turning my body towards Chase. His arms wrap around me immediately. I’m literally biting down on my tongue to stop the imminent breakdown, silent shudders wracking my body. Chase grips me a little tighter. This hurts my broken and damaged parts. I don’t tell him this though, as without his support, I’d collapse. He’s all that is holding me together right now.

  “I’ll take care of her, Dave. If you could let the family know.”

  I jerk back.

  “N-no, Chase. I’ve got to be at the graveside, I just can’t set foot back inside…that church again.”

  “You sure, Kate?” His voice is rough and tight. I can feel the tension radiating from his body.

  I just nod, not capable of mustering the courage to speak. Uncle Dave plants a kiss on the top of my head and gives Chase a pat on the back, then makes his way back towards the church.

  * * *

  Standing just short of a foot taller than I am, Chase pulls back slightly to look down at me. I’m still clutching onto him with my good hand as Danny’s casket is lowered into the ground. The tumultuous look in his eyes makes me tear up. I swallow a knot in my throat. He’s hurting like hell too. Anguish draining the colour from his handsome features.

  His eyes meet with mine again, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. Sarah flanks me on the left, supporting me around the waist. She’s crying as silently as she can manage.

  Chase releases his grip on my hand as Mrs. Clayton, with a trembling hand, almost collapses while dropping a lone flower onto her youngest son’s casket. Chase and Mr. Clayton’s arms are around her instantly, holding her up on either side. Travis moves forward, offering me support. He’s grieving openly. This just adds to the weight of the guilt churning in my gut.

  I’m slipping…so perilously close to disintegrating emotionally.

  I’m going to lose it.

  Oh God, please don’t let me come undone here.

  Pressing my hand over the ache in my chest, I drop my arm from around Travis’s waist. “I’ve got to get away from here,” I whisper, pulling in a ragged breath, heat rising behind my eyelids. I start slowly backing away from the hole in the ground that my boyfriend is being lowered into as my mind replays the last time Danny told me he loved me, the last time I felt his body against mine.

  Travis calls out to me and Sarah tries to grab my arm as I turn and break into a run, instinctively bracing my fractured arm across my chest as my body protests against the painfully jarring movement.

  “Katy, stop! Please,” Sarah calls out, gaining ground.

  I’ve now reached the car park and slow to a brisk walk, flushed and panting, my head spinning. We reach Uncle Dave’s car at the same time. Breathing heavily herself, Sarah pulls me into her. Squeezing my burning eyes closed; I bite down on my lip as a lone tear breaks free, trickling its warmth down my cheek. Opening them briefly, my eyes land on Travis standing a few metres away, silently watching us. He’s visibly distraught, but still manages to mouth, “I’m here for you.”

  “It’s over, Katy. The worst is over,” Sarah says softly into my ear.

  “No, it’s not, Sarah. My hell is only just beginning.”

  Chapter 6

  THE BRANDING OF MY LOVE

  ~ Kate, 2 March 2011. A week post funeral ~

  Today is the day. The marks on my back are fading out to just a pale ghosting. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, running my fingers over the small strip of gauze on my face, which covers a deep cut that will probably leave a very noticeable scar. My long, wavy hair, the colour of light honey, needs a good cut. It’s lost its lustre, and hangs limply just past my shoulders. My almond-shaped pistachio-green eyes are reddened, underscored by the shadowing of dark circles due to extended sleep deprivation. My skin is dry, my lips chapped. I look a total mess. My eyes fill with tears as I glance down at our toothbrushes, standing side by side in their holder. Daniel’s on the left, mine on the right; united, as we were before the bottom of my world fell out.

  Wincing as the movement causes a bolt of pain to shoot up the left side of my body, I reach up to the highest shelf in my closet with my uninjured arm, my fingers locating the little velvet pouch that contains money I’d stashed away for a rainy day. Tucking the pouch into the side pocket of my handbag, I’m all set. Still not able to drive, I slip from the apartment and head down to the bus stop.

  Looking out of the window on the bus, it’s a picture perfect summer’s day: the bright blue expanse of the sky, vibrant against the backdrop of vivid green trees, that are in stark contrast to the broken roads, and crumbling buildings around me. The face of Christchurch has changed. Our new landscape is dotted with broken buildings, tradies in high-viz vests and hard hats, road cones, and porta-loos.

  The utter scale of the destruction is beyond comprehension.

  As the bus meanders through the roads that are still accessible, my hand involuntarily flies up to cover my mouth as I take in the extent of the damage. Our once beautiful city has been brought to its knees. It looks like a war-torn area after a bomb has ripped through. The bus passes some cordoned off areas, where partially destroyed buildings have been red-zoned, huge cracks running through the streets, the roads splintered and crumbling, mirroring how I feel on the inside.

  Fractured.

  Broken.

  Irreparable.

  A young mother sits across from me with a boisterous toddler in her lap. I wonder if she’s a single mom? Is the dad still in their lives? Danny and I had a pregnancy scare once. I had only been on the pill for a few weeks and had forgotten to take them two days in a row. The stress of Uni exams had freaked me out and I just forgot. Once I realised, I went into a flat spin, panicked. Even back then, as a teenage boy, Dan proved what a wonderful man he would become. Although nervous, he’d been
supportive, and had calmly told me not to panic, that it would be okay. We’d deal with it if and when we had to. Looking at the young mother and her child, I blink back unwanted tears, sorry now that it only turned out to be a scare. If I had fallen pregnant then, at least a part of Danny would live on. I would have a part of him with me always.

  Arriving at my destination, I stand in front of the nondescript-looking weatherboard house, taking in its stark white exterior and dark grey roofing. A few pot plants brighten up the wooden deck that leads to the front door. The external appearance yielding no indication of the creative talent that lies within. I make my way up the short flight of stairs up to the front door. A sign, with “Manic Ink” embossed in an unusual font is nailed to the door.

  This is it.

  Taking a deep breath, I knock.

  I stand nervously fiddling with my handbag, hearing footsteps approaching from the other side.

  The door swings open, and a tall, muscular man, whose body is covered in a network of tattoos, greets me. Facial piercings adorn his handsome Maori features like miniature shiny Christmas decorations. Tribal tattoos peek out over his shirt and snake up his neck and arms, and I would imagine every other available surface of skin not on show.

  “Hi, sweetheart, can I help you?”

  Hi. I…uh, I’m Kate, are you Evan? I may have spoken with you on Saturday about my tattoo request.”

  His face suddenly grows serious and I see the sympathy in his expressive brown eyes.

  “Yeah, that’s me, love.” He swallows thickly and sighs.

  “I don’t really know what to say, shit. Sorry, it’s just that…uh, I’ve not had a request like this before. Really sorry to hear about your man, sweetheart. Please come in.”

  Keep it together.

  I’ve got to stay strong enough to get through the next few hours.

  The interior of the house is a far cry from the blandness of the exterior. It’s open and welcoming, the walls painted a muted shade of orange. Framed pictures line the walls, depicting either inked limbs or bodies, or wording in a variety of interesting tattoo fonts. We enter his studio.