Falling to Pieces

by Garza, Amber

  “Why not? Look, Ivy, I don’t know the whole story about what happened a year ago, but I see the way you look at Asher. I’ve never seen you look at a guy like that, and it’s obvious that he’s crazy about you too. You need to just tell him the truth so you can be together.”

  I shake my head, wishing her words were true. Wishing it could be that easy. “If I told him the truth, he wouldn’t want to be with me. The only reason he likes me at all now is because he doesn’t know the whole story.”

  “I don’t think the truth can be any worse than what he thinks now. He knows you lied to him, but he still likes you. Ivy, I really think Asher will understand whatever you have to say.”

  I’m so sick of having this conversation. “That’s because you don’t know what happened. If you did, you wouldn’t be asking me to tell him. Believe me.”

  Billie just doesn’t get it. For years Asher has been the only person, other than my grandpa, who has truly cared for me. He has been my one safe place, the one person who builds me up and keeps me sane. I couldn’t handle it if he looked at me differently. I couldn’t handle it if he found out who I really am.

  Grandpa pushes into the room behind his walker. His arthritic fingers grasp on tightly, and his shoulders tremble slightly. He’s hunched over, exposing his bald head, and his slippers shuffle on the carpet. I’m at Grandpa’s small apartment sitting on my knees, putting the books from his bookshelf into a cardboard box. He lowers himself into his recliner and sits back. I drop another book into the box and then spot a framed picture of the two of us from a few years back. Picking it up, I roll it between my fingers, taking in my fake smile. It was taken at Christmas at my house. In the background I can see Mom and Frank, and my insides burn like they’re filled with acid. The familiar churning in my gut starts, and I quickly turn the framed picture over and shove it into the box where I can’t see it.

  Grandpa clicks on the TV, and I hear the swishing of the recliner as he rocks it back and forth. I wish Grandpa didn’t have to move in with Mom. Visiting him here has always been a safe haven for me. It won’t be the same now.

  After finishing with the shelf, I close the box and turn toward Grandpa. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No, I’m fine. Why don’t you take a break?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t need a break. I’m good.”

  “You don’t look so good,” Grandpa says, lowering the volume on the television.

  “Thanks a lot.” I laugh at his lack of filter. He seems to be losing that as he ages. Scooting over, I grab another box.

  “You always look pretty, Ivy. That’s not what I meant. It’s just that your eyes look so sad. Is it about that boy you went out with?”

  I bite my lip, starting on another shelf. My fingers brush over the dusty books, and a light brown film covers my fingertips. “Sort of.”

  “Did you do what I said?”

  I wipe my fingers off on my jeans and toss a couple more books into the box. They land with a loud thud. My knees press into the thick reeds of the carpet, and I readjust my position. “I tried, Grandpa. I just don’t know if there’s a way to make things simple for us.”

  “If he’s important to you, you’ll figure it out.” Grandpa smiles at me, the wrinkles gathering around his chocolate brown eyes.

  My gaze lands on the picture hanging on the wall above me of Grandma and Grandpa smiling sweetly at each other. I let go of the books. “Grandpa, if you ever found out Grandma had kept a secret from you, would it have changed the way you felt about her?”

  Grandpa narrows his eyes. “Your grandma was a woman. Of course she had secrets.”

  I grin. “No, I mean like a real secret. Like something big.”

  “It depends on what it was, I guess.” He leans forward a little. “Ivy, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

  My chest tightens, but I make my head bob up and down in agreement. I know I can trust Grandpa, but there’s no way I can tell him this secret. Besides, he’s dealing with enough right now. I turn back to the books and change the subject. “So, how are you feeling about moving in with Mom?”

  “How would you feel about it?” Grandpa answers gruffly.

  “Well, it’s different for me. I just moved out, and she’s my mom,” I respond, not mentioning the fact that the mere thought of moving back causes me to feel like I’m suffocating.

  “It’s not that different for me. I’m used to living on my own, and I don’t want to have to live with my daughter. But I know it’s not safe here for me anymore. If I have one more fall or episode when no one’s around to help me, it could be dangerous.”

  The thought of either of those things happening when he’s all alone wrenches at my heart. “Yeah, it will be better to have someone around to help you.”

  “And you’ll keep visiting me, right?”

  His question catches me off guard. “Of course.” I throw the last couple of books in the box, and turn away from the now empty bookshelf.

  “You promise?”

  I lock eyes with him, wondering if he knows more than I think. “Yes,” I say firmly.

  “Good. Because remember, you’re always safe with your grandpa.”

  My eyes mist over at the phrase he used to say when I was little. If only my grandpa had always been around, he would’ve kept me safe. Only that wasn’t the case. Blinking back unwanted tears, I go back to packing. I wonder why he said that, and the thought leaves me feeling completely unnerved.

  18

  Asher

  “Where are you off to this evening, son?” Dad asks when he catches me heading toward the front door. His arm is draped around Mom’s shoulder as they cuddle together on the couch watching some sitcom. Canned laughter explodes from the speakers.

  “Just going out on my bike.” I slide my arms into my leather jacket.

  Mom’s head pops up. “Anyone going with you?”

  I know what she’s asking, and it irritates me. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m not seeing Ivy.”

  The relief on her face bothers me further. “Well, have fun, and be careful.”

  This place is making me feel claustrophobic. I’m starting to seriously consider going back to LA early. The only reason I’m even here is for Ivy, and I’m pretty sure that’s a lost cause at this point. After stepping outside, I walk briskly to my bike and pull on my helmet. Tonight I’m taking Billie for another ride, and I’m hoping to glean some information about Ivy that will help me. I have a feeling that Billie knows more than she’s letting on. A car zips by, and the scent of gasoline fills my senses. I straddle my bike and take off.

  The streets are quiet tonight, and the air is warm as I zip around town. I turn the corner and glance over at the apartment complex where Ivy’s grandpa lives. Ivy used to have me bring her here a lot. Sympathy fills me when I think about him being sick. I know it must tear Ivy up inside. I’ve never met a girl who’s closer to her grandpa than Ivy. Not that it surprises me, since he is the only father figure in her life. I know she's not close to her stepdad at all. Maybe that’s why I feel the need to protect Ivy. While everyone else sees a tough girl, I know how vulnerable she is. I know how many people she has lost, and what it cost her.

  Most of our friends have no idea the pain that Ivy has endured. None of us have lost our parents. I think that’s also why I keep giving Ivy more chances. I know how hard it is for her to trust people, to open up her heart. Her fear of losing someone she loves clouds her vision sometimes.

  I’m about to turn the corner when a flash of white blond hair catches my attention. Ivy .I slow my bike down and catch a glimpse of Ivy walking toward her car, carrying a box. Her face is pinched and drawn. I cross over to the curb, and turn off my bike.

  “Ivy!” I call out.

  Her head snaps up, surprise evident on her face. When she brushes a finger under her eye, I notice that her face is wet. Has she been crying? I rush toward her. “Ives, what’s wrong?”

  She sniffs, shaking her head. “Nothing. Just dar
n allergies.” Popping her trunk, she drops a cardboard box into it. There are already several more wedged inside the tight confines.

  “C’mon, Ives, what’s going on?”

  She glances up at me, her vulnerable expression breaking me open. “My grandpa’s moving in with my mom. I’m helping him get his stuff out. It’s just an emotional day, that’s all.”

  “He’s gotten that sick, huh?”

  She nods, and I reach out to touch her face. Her skin is smooth against my fingers, and it feels so good. “I’m really sorry, Ives.”

  She pulls away, and all I want to do is draw her back to me. I’d do anything to take away that sad look on her face. “It’ll be fine.”

  “It’s okay to be sad,” I say.

  A small smile flickers on her face. “You sound like Billie.”

  “Smart girl.” I smile.

  “You two are going out tonight, right?” Her eyes cloud over when she says it.

  My stomach knots. “Not if you don’t want us to. I can stay here and help you if you want.”

  She pauses for a moment, and I think she’ll take me up on my offer. My heart pounds as I await her response. “No, you should go have fun. This isn’t your responsibility.”

  I step toward Ivy and grab her arm. I have a strong urge to bend down and catch her mouth in mine, but I don’t. “When are you going to get it, Ives? I want to help you. Why can’t you let me in?”

  I can see in Ivy’s eyes that she’s wrestling with it. For one second it seems that she might lower her guard, but then her expression darkens and I know she’s made her decision. “This is just something I need to do alone. Have fun with Billie tonight.”

  Nodding, I release her arm. I can’t keep pushing myself on her. It seems that when I do it only builds more of a wedge between us. “Okay. But promise you’ll call if you need me.”

  Pressing her lips together, she gives a subtle bob of her head. I run my finger over her cheek before walking back toward my bike. When I speed away, I glance behind and see Ivy making her way back toward her grandpa’s apartment. If only she could let me in. If only she didn’t need to deal with everything on her own.

  “Ready to go?” I ask Billie when I show up at her apartment.

  She gives me a funny grin. “Why are you really here, Asher?”

  I pause, knitting my eyebrows together. “To take you for a ride, remember?”

  “No, I know that.” She walks away from the front door, and I take it as an invitation to follow her. “I just can’t figure out why.”

  Closing the door behind me, I step toward her. “Because I thought you wanted to.” My gaze lands on Ivy’s jacket strewn across the table. Her floral scent lingers in the air, making my heart skip a beat. I wish she was here right now. I wish she had been the one to invite me over tonight.

  Billie whirls around toward me. “Asher, you and I both know the only person in this apartment you’re interested in taking out is Ivy.”

  “That’s not true. I had a lot of fun with you the other night.”

  Billie looks at me with a challenging gleam in her eyes. “Prove it.”

  Unsure of what she means, I take a small step backward.

  “If you want to be with me and not Ivy, then you won’t mind me doing this.” Before I can react at all, she grabs my waist and pulls me to her. My heart races as she presses her chest against mine. I don’t want to shove her away, but panic rings out in my mind. What if Ivy walks in right now? The last thing I want is for her to think I’m into her friend. That will ruin any chance I ever had with her. Maybe this was a bad idea.

  Billie’s face comes closer, and I can’t take it anymore. I turn away. “I’m sorry, Billie.”

  I expect her to get upset, but she just laughs, allowing her arms to fall to the side. “That’s what I thought. You are totally into Ivy.”

  “That’s what you were trying to prove?” Girls are so confusing.

  She walks away from me, grinning like she just solved some exciting mystery. “I just don’t get you two. Why can’t you just admit you like each other? It’s totally obvious, and kind of annoying, actually.” She plops down on the couch.

  I follow her, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch. “Okay, fine, you got me. But I don’t think it’s the same for Ivy. She’s made it pretty clear where we stand.”

  “Ivy’s just going through a lot.” Billie intertwines her fingers in her lap.

  “Do you know what happened between us?”

  She nods slowly.

  I lean forward expectantly, my heart picking up speed. “Do you know the whole story, Billie?”

  “No, I only know bits and pieces. She’s never told me all of it.”

  “Can you tell me what you do know?”

  Billie shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Asher, but it’s not my story to tell.”

  I groan, lowering my head into my hands. “You know, Ivy moved here shortly after her dad died. When I met her there was this sadness in her eyes that I’d never seen in anyone before. I knew immediately that she had endured a kind of pain I’d never understand, but the longer we hung out, the more that sadness lifted. Then that night when I saw those bruises, the sadness was back. I wanted to hurt anyone who had caused her pain again. I always knew I couldn’t bring her dad back, but this was something I could do for her. I could avenge her pain.”

  Billie’s hand rests on my shoulder. “You’re a good friend to her. You did what you thought was right. Don’t let anyone take that from you.”

  I lift my head. “But what I did was wrong. And Cam wasn’t even the person who hurt her. Do you know who did?”

  Billie bites her lip. “No, she’s never told me. I mean, I have my suspicions, but I’m not sure.”

  I raise an eyebrow, but I can tell she won’t share it with me. “It makes me sad that she can’t talk to anyone about this. I hate how she carries everything alone. I mean, it’s like when I saw her tonight and she wouldn’t let me help her.”

  Billie stiffens. “Wait. You saw her tonight? At work?”

  “No, she was at her grandpa’s apartment helping him move.”

  “Shit,” Billie mutters, and I’m surprised at her reaction. She reaches for her cell and types something in with quick fingers.

  “What?” I ask, feeling uneasy.

  “I forgot that was tonight. I wanted to help her,” she mumbles while still typing on her phone. “I mean, it’s nighttime and Frank is probably there, so I wanted to be there too.”

  I freeze. Frank. Her stepdad. I picture his shaggy brown hair and the flannel shirts he wears. Ivy’s words come back to me. Awhile. She said it had been happening for awhile. And I remember the night she got caught after we snuck out for that concert. I didn’t see her for a whole month and when I did, she never wanted to go swimming. Anytime I went to her house she seemed skittish around Frank, but I just thought it was because he was a jerk. Why hadn’t I figured it out sooner?

  “It’s Frank, isn’t it? He’s the one who hurt her?”

  Billie’s eyes lock with mine, confirming my fears. I start to stand, but Billie pushes me back down. “She’s never actually said it was him. I just think it was. But you can’t go over there and do anything. What if I’m wrong? She won’t forgive you a second time, Asher.”

  I jerk her hand free. “But I have to do something. What if he hurts her again? I can’t let her be there alone.”

  Billie glances back down at her phone. “She’s not responding to my texts.”

  “That’s it. I’m going over.”

  “Fine.” Billie sighs. “But don’t do anything stupid.”

  “I won’t.”

  19

  Ivy

  I knock on Mom’s door with my hand while pressing a box against my chest. It’s heavy, and I sag against the weight of it unsure if I’ll be able to hold it much longer. The heat is making sweat ring my armpits and slide down my shoulder blades. I blow out a breath and lean my head down to wipe my forehead on my shoulder.
When Mom doesn’t answer, I bang the door with my foot. A second later the door swings open, and I step inside without looking up. I just need to put down the box. I’m pretty sure by the weight of it that this is a box filled with books. Huffing, I drop it on the floor and stand up, wiping my hands on my jean shorts.

  My heart arrests at the sight of him. “Oh, Frank. I didn’t know you were here. I only saw Mom’s car out front.”

  “She took my truck to your grandpa’s to pick up more stuff.”

  He’s standing too close, and I take in the alcohol on his breath. I swallow hard and skirt around him. “I was just there. I guess I must’ve missed her.”

  Frank runs a hand over his rumpled brown hair. He’s wearing his regular flannel shirt and torn jeans. He’s a plumber, and his hands seem to always be black and greasy. I picture them on me, and it turns my stomach. “I’m not gonna hurt you, princess. You can move away from the wall.” He leans in, breathing beer and sweat into my face. “Unless you want me to.”

  My heart slams against my ribcage. “Just back off, Frank.”

  He laughs gruffly and staggers away. I heave a sigh, clutching my chest as he retreats. Hopefully he’ll leave me alone long enough to get the rest of the boxes inside. When I head back outside, I wonder for the millionth time what my mom ever saw in him. He’s nothing like my dad. Just the thought of Dad causes a lump to rise in my throat. Dad was good looking and kind, and his smile made me feel like everything was right in the world. What I wouldn’t give to see that smile again. Only I never will, and that kind of thinking doesn’t help me. I shake away the thoughts, and head back to my car. After hoisting out the next box, I lug it toward the house. Before stepping back inside I momentarily wish I’d taken Asher up on his offer. I would feel a lot safer if I had him with me. Then I realize that would be a bad idea. I don’t want him here with Frank and Mom. The last thing I want him to witness is this dysfunctional family dynamic. It’s the reason I rarely ever invited him over when we were younger.