Falling to Pieces

by Leddy Harper

  “I wanted to let you know about it, but my mom wouldn’t leave my side. She made me hand over the phone as soon as we got home, so I couldn’t call you. I tried sneaking out that night, but I found her on the couch. She knew I’d try to get to you, and she prevented every move I made. I didn’t want you to be blindsided by it like I was. I’m sorry, Axel. I’m sorry this happened to us, but it wasn’t my fault. I did everything I could to protect you. But then I went to school the next day, rushing to your classroom to warn you, only to find you leaving with a box of your things in hand. I chased after you…didn’t you hear me?”

  “I was being escorted off the premises,” I said in a deep, whispered monotone, the images of that morning fresh in my mind. “It didn’t matter what I said to them. They made it clear that I’d crossed a line. They didn’t have enough to fire me, but they had enough to make me resign.” I glanced up and caught her glistening eyes. “I heard you, but at the time, I was under the impression that you threw me to the wolves. And had I turned around to acknowledge you, I’d lose my defense that our relationship was innocent.”

  “I tried going to your house that weekend to explain, but everything was gone,” she cried, letting another lone tear slip down to her chin. Everything about her, from her voice to her shaking hands, screamed weakness, yet she remained strong with a firm hold on her tears. The woman in front of me was not the same girl I’d walked away from. This one could hold her own, and I’d never felt prouder.

  “What did you expect, Bree? I was ostracized. I was the teacher—the adult—taking advantage of a minor. It didn’t matter what the truth was. The damage was done. And to add to it, I was under the impression that you were behind my crucifixion.”

  “That was your first mistake, Axel. What reason would I have to do that?” she asked, sounding desperate for an answer. The anger that had fueled her fight moments before seemed gone, or at the very least, it had waned.

  I couldn’t answer her, because the one good reason I thought she had, no longer seemed valid. But it did cause me to ask her about something she said earlier. “When you said you made one decision for yourself, one you’ve never regretted…what was that?” I had some deep need for that answer. Her words wouldn’t leave me alone until I knew what she’d meant by them.

  Bree took another step forward, closing the gap between our bodies. Her stature had become relaxed, softening with every inch she moved. That’s how we always were together, no matter how deep the pain, how blazing the fury, or how profound the sadness, the love we shared always seemed to win out. “Loving you. I’ve never regretted it, nor will I ever. Because that one choice I made, the one thing I’ve ever done for myself…it saved me.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  She tenderly touched my cheek, grazing her thumb over my unshaven skin. The heat from her palm penetrated me, burning me to the core. The intensity of her touch told me that this would be a defining moment for us. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that in the end, you finally saved me. Something more powerful than either of us intervened, and because of you and my love for you, I made it out the other side a happier, stronger, better person.” Her hand dropped before I could touch it. “But I really do need to get to my car,” she added, her fight now completely gone.

  I nodded and moved back to give her space to walk out and grab her boots by the door. We headed to my truck and I opened the passenger door for her before climbing in behind the steering wheel.

  “No more Jeep?” she asked as she glanced around the cab.

  I shook my head and cranked the engine. Having her next to me in yet another vehicle proved to be too much on my recently fried emotions. My chest felt as if it’d been stomped on repeatedly, only to be revived again moments later. Bree had that effect on me. She could spin my head in so many directions, causing me to lose my bearings, and then with one touch, one look, one soft-spoken word, she’d ground me again.

  After a few minutes of strained, awkward silence, I broke it with a question. Something I desperately needed the answer to. Something I’d gone years worried about, and I couldn’t refrain from asking any longer. “What ever happened to your mom?”

  She fiddled with the clothes in her lap before inhaling slowly and answering. “She died about a month and a half after you left. Things got really bad at home after she found out about you.” Her voice remained low and filled with sadness, which ate at me and flooded me with regret. “Right after the Fourth of July, I got really sick. I thought it was the stress of being at home with her, but then it got worse. She wouldn’t take me to the doctor, and she told me it was my punishment for what I’d done. She said I deserved it for being a whore. So one day while she was at work, I went to the hospital. I don’t even remember how I got there, to be honest with you. I was so delirious and weak. I was dehydrated, so they hooked me up to an IV line and started running a bunch of tests. That’s when they saw the cuts on my back that hadn’t quite healed all the way. They asked about it.” She paused and took a breath, growing too quiet for my comfort.

  “Please tell me you told them the truth?” I pleaded with her, needing to know she’d somehow been safe without me.

  She sighed and nodded. “I didn’t want to at first, but the nurse was very persistent.” Bree turned to me as a small smile crept up on her lips. “She reminded me a lot of you, calling me out on my lies and headstrong in her determination to find the truth. So after I saw the doctor and got some of my results back, I finally broke down and told them everything. Everything, Axel. About who my mom was and how she always managed to brush off every incident, getting away with it for so long because of who she was. I guess I’d finally found my reason to fight back—my reason to stand up for myself. They gave me some medicine and called the police, but I wasn’t allowed to leave until the officer showed up. I had to retell the entire story to him as well before he drove me to the police station. They had to keep me in protective custody until my dad showed up.”

  I stopped at a red light and turned in my seat to face her, shocked at what she’d told me. “And then what happened? How did she die? What happened to her?” The questions just flew out of my mouth as I impatiently waited for answers.

  “The cops questioned her, then they came back to take pictures of my injuries—the healing marks on my shoulder blades and the scar on my eye. They had my medical records from when I’d been admitted for broken bones—some were from her and some weren’t. I had to explain each one. They said an investigation would be started, but that I couldn’t leave the county until they had all they needed. So my dad got a hotel room and we stayed there.”

  A horn honked from behind me, alerting me that the light had turned green. I pulled up and parked on the shoulder of the road, unable to drive any farther until I’d heard her whole story. “Go on.”

  With a shrug, she lowered her eyes and continued. “I wasn’t allowed to grab too much stuff from the house. A couple cops and my dad took me back home right after they released me from the police station and let me grab some clothes and personal items. But there were a few things I’d left behind on accident that I wanted. So a couple days later, I took a bus back…”

  “Why? Why would you do that?” I became panicked, my voice evident of what I thought about her returning to her mother’s house.

  Her eyes snapped to mine, burning bright. “I owned very few possessions that meant anything to me, Axel! In a month and a half, I had everything ripped out of my hands. I found myself living in a hotel room with a man I barely knew, preparing to move into a house full of people I’d never met. A town and a school of nothing but complete strangers. How do you think that made me feel? I just wanted something of meaning to bring with me.”

  I swallowed dryly and asked, “What did you go back for?”

  Her anger fell away, as did her gaze. “My CD. I missed you so much. You were the only person to ever give me real comfort. And at that time, I needed it more than ever before. Even if it wasn’t you…even if it
was only a freaking CD…I needed it.”

  I couldn’t believe she’d walked back into the lion’s den for something I’d given her. She risked everything to have a part of me, and that thought evoked so much emotion, I didn’t know what to do with it all. I just had to block it out—block out the pain it caused me—and forge ahead.

  “Where was your dad? Where was your mom?” I knew I shouldn’t push her, but I couldn’t hold back my questions. I couldn’t wait for her to get there on her own because the anticipation would’ve likely killed me first.

  “My dad had gone to the store for lunch. My mom was working, so I knew it would be safe to run in and get it. I would’ve been long gone before she got home. But she was there…and I didn’t know it until I was leaving my room. She met me in the hallway by the stairs on my way out. She was livid. I could see it in her eyes. And when she got in my face to scream at me, all I could smell was her wine. I froze in fear…” Her voice became a whisper as she turned back to the window. “I froze.”

  I wanted to reach out to her, touch her, let her know it was okay to tell me. But I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to hear her next words, knowing what they would be, but seeing her deflated posture, I knew she needed to get it out. I did the only thing I could do…I waited in silence until she was ready to finish her story.

  She stared out through her window, continuing to play with the dress in her hand and tapping her booted foot on the floorboard. “She had me by the throat, choking me, repeating over and over again how I’ve done nothing but ruin her life and she should’ve aborted me when she had the chance. I couldn’t breathe and I started to see spots. Then my vision turned dark. I could barely hear the things she was saying. I just kept slapping her, trying to get her off me—fighting back as hard as I could. But it wasn’t enough. I didn’t have enough strength, and I thought I was about to lose consciousness. I guess she got tired of being hit, because she threw me down the stairs.”

  “Then what happened, Bree?” My heart was in my throat and I noticed she had started to shut down. I couldn’t allow her to do that. I needed her to remain strong and determined so that I could get the entire story. My guilt and regret were too much to bear without knowing how it all ended. Self-hatred burned inside, knowing I’d left her to deal with all this alone.

  “I reached out for anything to hold onto. Anything to keep me from falling. I hadn’t even realized I’d grabbed onto her until we were both laying at the bottom of the stairs. I could barely breathe right. It felt like someone was sitting on my chest. Once the ringing in my ears faded and I could take a deep enough breath… I didn’t think. I just grabbed the CD and ran.”

  “What are you saying, Aubrey?” I didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to imagine her mother putting her hands on her, hurting her. But what gutted me even more was the thought of Aubrey taking her mother’s life. Had I been there, had I trusted her enough to know she wouldn’t have turned me in, I could’ve saved her from that. I could’ve held onto my promise to her and gotten her out of that house. The regrets that would live with me forever were mounting and threatening to crush me.

  “I went back to the hotel. My dad was freaking out. Then I told him what happened and he immediately called the police. I was so scared I’d get in trouble for going back there, but he promised everything would be okay. I didn’t even know what had happened until a cop showed up at the door later that night and asked me and my dad to go to the station. They asked me like a hundred questions, sometimes the same question over and over again. Turns out, she had a subdural hematoma, caused by the fall. She made it worse by drinking and taking aspirin before laying down. She was pronounced brain-dead at the hospital.”

  “They thought you had something to do with it? They didn’t believe you?”

  “It’s not that they thought I killed her, but I’d admitted to fighting with her and said how I pulled her down the stairs with me. They took even more pictures of me—my wrist was sprained in the fall, I had a bruise forming on my forehead, and the skin around my neck showed signs of attempted strangulation. They said it was obvious we had a struggle, and that they only wanted to make sure it happened the way I said it did. They had no reason to hold me, especially since some cop came forward later, telling them about your call at the beginning of the year.”

  “Why was your mom even there?”

  Bree rested her head against the back of the seat and let out a humorous laugh. “Apparently, after she got to her office that day, she was sent home. She couldn’t work while having an open investigation against her. I guess everyone finally learned what a monster she was, and seeing me back at the house, she snapped.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes away from her, burning holes into the side of her face as she stared out the windshield ahead of her. Seeing her now, hearing her tragic story of the life she had after I’d walked out of it, made it difficult to believe that she was the happy, strong person she’d portrayed at the house. But then she spoke again.

  “My dad brought me back home with him. I finished out high school here, and then moved in with one of my sisters after graduation. I guess you can’t have it really good until you have it really bad, huh? At least I can honestly say I’ve earned my good life. I fought for it. I won it fair and square.”

  She may have spoken—revealing the story of probably one of the most traumatic nights of her life—with detachment, but I knew she had to have been feeling something else. No one could’ve lived through that, only to retell it as if it were nothing other than a movie they’d once seen.

  “So that’s it? She died and you moved on?”

  Bree leaned forward, tucking her head between her legs and taking a full inhale before sitting up straight again, giving me her full attention. “Yes, Axel, that’s exactly what happened. You want me to tell you about the guilt I suffered, knowing that no matter which way you spin it, I killed my own mother? Well, I can’t. Because I don’t have those feelings. There are moments I worry that my actions have made me no different than her, but then I look at what I have—at who I’ve become—and I know the truth. I wanted out of her house, away from her, just not like that. Not by my hands. But despite all that, I found the silver lining. I got out at the best possible time for me. Things only would’ve gotten worse from there, but in a numb, twisted way, I have to believe that it all happened the way it was supposed to. I know it wasn’t truly my fault she died.”

  “Is that really how you feel, or are you only putting up a front for me?”

  “I’ve already told you, I’m a lot stronger than I used to be. I’ve gone through a lot, I’ve dealt with a lot. And I’ve always come out of it better than when I went in. So you have no need to worry about me. I have no reason to put up any kind of front for you.” Her tone had turned bitter and cold, letting me know she was through with the conversation.

  I nodded at her, keeping my opinions to myself, and pulled onto the road. After rehashing her mother’s death, I wasn’t expecting Bree to talk. I figured we’d finish our drive back to the lake in silence, so when she asked me a personal question, it surprised me. “Do you still have Lassie?”

  I smiled and shot her a sidelong glance. “She’s with my sister.”

  “When did you move here?” she asked, keeping up with the questioning.

  One of my favorite things about Aubrey was how we could slip right back into comfortable conversation, as if nothing had happened. She made it so easy to relax and forget the arguing or tension. And this time was no different. Realizing she hadn’t changed too much gave me hope. “About six months ago. I was living with my sister for a while about forty minutes from here, but then took a job with the school board here in town, so I moved here.”

  As soon as the words left my mouth, it hit me that I’d been living in the same town as Bree for six months and never even knew it. She’d been directly under my nose…straight in front of my eyes. And then it gutted me, knowing how close I was to her and her husband. How I’d probably run
into her again, and what it would do to me if I had to see her hold his hand…kiss his lips.

  “I’ve heard you talk about your sisters,” I started, hoping to clear my head of the images that had taken over. “Those are your stepsisters, aren’t they? Are you close with them?”

  “Yes. I have two. I’m really close with the older one, Sarah. The younger one, Clarissa, she’s the one that’s getting married this weekend. It was her bachelorette party last night. I love them both.”

  I had one of those moments of clarity. One of those moments where you take a step back from your feelings, disconnect from your own personal attachment to a situation, and see the positives of it all. And with that, I was able to see the amazing life she’d been afforded, despite all the tragedy that led her there. In that instant, I didn’t care how that same tragedy had nearly killed me, how it had taken everything from me, including my happiness, because in the end, she was the one who’d needed protection. She was the one who had deserved everything good, and she got it.

  “That makes me really happy, Bree. I’m really glad you got the chance to have the family you always deserved. I hate that you had to endure everything else, but at least it’s all behind you now? I mean, you have everything you’ve ever wanted now, right?” I asked, holding my breath for her answer. I desperately wanted her to tell me no, to tell me that she wanted me…but I knew better than to expect that.

  “I have the best life. I honestly never thought I’d be able to say that, but I can. I have so much love…so many reasons to smile. Is it how I imagined it? No…not at all. But it’s my life, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

  “So you finished school? You design furniture?”

  She became quiet as we pulled into the parking lot of a motel across the street from the lake. I stopped the truck and then turned to her, desperately trying to pull the answer from her head.