If I Break #4 Shattered Pieces

by Portia Moore

  “What are they saying,” Helen asks, and I wonder if I’m not doing a good job as I thought being unreadable.

  “Listen, you arrogant little fucker. I never thought you’d cross me. That was my bad, my screw up…” He laughs. “But you know better than to screw my wife. I thought we were a team. Do you think I’m going to let that slide?”

  “Collin?” Helen asks urgently.

  “You’re supposed to be neutral—you don’t do what we do! Aren’t you better, supposedly superior? You’re a piece of shit, that’s what you are… I’m warning you, touch her again, it's war.”

  I laugh at him. “Well, in that case, you won’t know what you can’t see. You’re on time-out.”

  “What the fuck does that mean, if you…!”

  I open my eyes. “I’m shut out,” I tell Helen. She’s sitting in front of me with a strained look on her face. She’s good at hiding her feelings under veiled expressions, but I know she’s annoyed. “That’s never happened before,” she says quietly.

  I stand from my seat and walk to the window and pretend to be distracted with the people below us, but instead, Calvin’s words echo through my mind. Not just the insults, but also the insinuation behind them. He’s upset and reckless, and I’ll have to keep him at bay, which means letting Chris out in order to contain him.

  “I know. They’re just being stubborn,” I tell her returning to my seat.

  “Has something changed?”

  I don’t lie to Helen. It’s never been in my interest to but she’s not going to like what I have to tell her and it’s always in my best interest to tell Helen things that she likes to hear. Seeing as she’s the one person that can eventually fix us, it’s hard to not be less than transparent with her than I’d like.

  “Calvin is upset because Lauren and I had sex.” I notice her eyes widen just the tiniest bit. She nods as if taking in what I just said and crosses her legs shifting in her seat. She knows Calvin and sometimes I get an inkling that she likes him the most of all of us. She never got a chance to know Chris as he finds her repugnant, and I know I am the most forthcoming with her—the most useful when it comes to providing her solutions and information—but she knew Calvin first. Sometimes people, even those who understand emotions better than most, are swayed by that as if the first is better.

  “Now things are becoming clearer,” she says simply with a half-smile. “I can imagine how that’s going over with Cal.”

  “Exactly as you’d think.”

  “So, he’s refusing to talk or is it that he’s talking too much?”

  “He’s not saying anything of use, and I don’t think he’ll be cooperating in our sessions, so I’m shutting him out for now.”

  “And you think that would be the most appropriate thing at this point, Collin?” She narrows her eyes at me.

  “I believe it is. He’ll calm down eventually.”

  She lets out a deep sigh. “Cal needs treatment, Collin. He has to be able to cope with the memories that’s resurfaced.”

  I look at her blankly. She acts as if I’m a new guest to this party.

  “He keeps having dreams of that night…. he says that with each dream there is something different each time. Sometimes the room is different, the color of his mother’s hair, her dress…” Helen says and I’m bored.

  “It’s because he’s having trouble coming to the conclusion that what happened really did happen, Helen.” I am irritated and it’s creeping out in my tone.

  “Well, him being able to cope with the series of events is essential for all of you. If he doesn’t work this out…”

  “He won’t resurface if I don’t let him.”

  The corner of her eyes crinkle. “You don’t know what problems that could create, Collin. It seems as if you’re acting more out of emotion.”

  “I’m acting out of what’s best for us. I always do.” I remind her.

  “Well, Cal shutting you and me out isn’t what’s best for anyone. I need to continue to speak with him, Collin. He has to process these emotions, memories, and he has to heal,” she urges, and I try to keep the last thread of my patience.

  “Helen, he’s a grown man, he’s not a six-year-old boy.”

  “And that’s exactly who I want him to remain, Collin. You guys can barely get along with each other, and the last thing I would want is for any of you to have to nurture a six-year-old,” she says pointedly.

  “Look, the last thing on Calvin’s mind at the moment is healing. He’s angry with me, and that makes him reckless, so this is for the best. Besides, he knows that without me he’s as powerless as Chris.”

  “And you without him?” She counters, and her smile is on the edge of sly and suppressed.

  I smile widely at her. “You know, I think out of all of us we have the clearest understanding wouldn’t you say?”

  She tilts her head as if examining me as a new personality altogether. “My understanding is that I’m a neutral party in this, Collin. I am an ally of each of you and my purpose is to have all of you live the best life available to you.” Her answer is smooth but practiced and mechanical and I’m insulted that she thinks that her reply is something that would work with me.

  I lean forward a bit in my chair “I think I’ve been a great help to you,” I stand and fold my arms.

  “You’ve been very proactive with your treatment, I’d never deny that.”

  I chuckle. “What is it like being married to Dexter?” I ask, and her eyes perk up, obviously thrown off by my question.

  “I’m sorry?” She covers her confusion well.

  “To be someone who had so much potential? At the top of your class, a brilliant mind in your field and the day you married him, all of your accomplishments suddenly overshadowed by a family name that you couldn’t hope to climb from underneath,” I say quietly, and her smile fades a bit.

  “Well, it seemed nearly impossible until Dexter Jr. let you in on our little secret…”

  Her eyes narrow in on mine. “Are you implying that I have some sort of vested interest in your case?”

  “No I’m not saying that at all,” I tell her as our eyes meet. I walk to the window feeling her eyes on me. “The opportunity to legitimize a disorder that so many scoff at. Or to create a new treatment entirely, maybe even something that would replace integration…now that…that could be something.”

  “So I ask you again. I have been very beneficial to you, wouldn’t you say that?” I ask her and she nods, but the tension in the room has changed, and the curtain has gone up from her little production.

  “I am the glue, the coach of the team, the conductor behind the orchestra, so let’s say you were looking to gain recognition or acclaim off our little problem, make the best out of our unfortunate circumstance that your brilliant mind helped fix. You’d need me… hypothetically.” I give her a charming grin.

  “You can’t depend on Cal, his own wife can’t do that. Chris, well, we all know he’s about as clueless as a toddler. I would just think if I were a brilliant woman such as yourself, I’d place my bets with someone who thinks more logically than the others.”

  “I think our session is up. Would you like me to extend it?” she asks tightly as I refuse.

  “No, I think we’ve covered enough for today.” We walk to the door, and she opens it for me.

  “I could have gotten that,” I smile at her and she smiles back her own just as charming.

  “Next week then?”

  “Next week,” I kiss her cheek and she squeezes my arm.

  We have an understanding.

  We better.

  Lauren

  “Oh my gosh this is freakin’ unbelievable,” Angela squeals as we finish our tour of the gallery. For the past three weeks I’ve spent my days here, meeting with designers, trying to locate artists, all the fun stuff to get the gallery opened. Collin took care of the boring parts as far as paperwork, taxes, etc. It feels so good to be back working, having something that’s just mine.

 
; “I’m still sort of in awe of it all,” I admit.

  Angie is beaming and takes my hand. “You worked for this. After everything that’s been going on, you deserve it.”

  It’s been three weeks since Collin brought me here, and back then it was already in move-in ready condition. Now my furniture has arrived and I have a large, sleek, white desk in my office. The actual gallery where we’ll showcase the work is sparse but the lighting is phenomenal. It should be because it cost more than anything else I’ve spent money on. Next month I’ll be opening the gallery and featuring two artists I worked with in school.

  “It’s just surreal that it’s all happening and so fast.” I still feel like I’m in a dream. After not working other than freelance editing here and there since college, to be doing something I only dreamed about just a few years ago is surreal.

  “But it should have happened a long time ago.” She loops arms with me as we sit on the new couch I just ordered. I smile and rest my head on her shoulder.

  “I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you so much.” I squeeze her arm. I haven’t seen Angela in months, with her being knee-deep in finishing her master’s program and all of the crap that fell out of the sky on me.

  “I know! You wouldn’t believe the amount of paper work I have to do for each client and with my graduate assistantship, and classes—things are insane!” She whines, but her eyes are bright and she looks so happy.

  “I’m so proud of you. You’re a real therapist!”

  She sighs throwing her head back into the couch. “I think I’m going to get my doctorate.” She grins at me and I laugh.

  “Really Ang?”

  “I don’t know. I mean I can practice as a therapist now, but my parents are hinting that they’d be thrilled if I became a psychologist and it’s their money paying for school,” she sighs.

  “If you decide to, will I have to call you Dr. Angela,” I tease her.

  “Of course not, honey. Dr. Fabulous would be just fine,” she says dramatically, and we both laugh and take in the moment.

  “You know… that means if you ever want to talk to me about anything, I can listen and give unbiased advice. It’s sort of a requirement now.”

  “You’ve heard enough from me for an entire decade I’m sure.”

  “Seriously Lauren. I can’t imagine you holding everything that you’re dealing with inside. Not knowing who to tell what to. I’ve always listened as a friend, but now things are different.”

  I lean back on the couch and rub my hands against my thighs. “I’m happy,” I tell her quietly.

  “That’s great…” She trails off waiting for me to expand.

  “I just feel so bad about it.”

  “You feel guilty? Because it’s with Collin,” she guesses.

  I have to give Angie credit at how casual she took me telling her about Collin, but she is a licensed professional counselor now, it could just go with the territory.

  “I’m worried about Chris and Cal…. things have just been so easy since Collin has been here. He’s wonderful, but I know it’s not real. I know that the clock is ticking until a disaster happens, until…” I pause to collect my thoughts. “On the surface things are great… but beneath, I know they’re not, and it’s like, how dare I just pretend that everything is ok? I feel like I should be doing something to help them fix things,” I feel a tear fall from my eye.

  “Do you think that they’d want you to be unhappy?” Angela asks and I laugh.

  “You know Cal. Do you think he’d be fine with me playing happily ever after with Collin?” I chuckle bitterly.

  “Lauren, you have to stop thinking of them as individuals. That’s what’s making this so hard for you,” she squeezes my hand. I stand up and walk to the other side of the room.

  “But Angie you don’t understand. I know they’re one person. I get it, but when you have these personalities that look at you in different ways, who speak differently, who make you feel things the others don’t, it’s hard to feel like that. I feel like I’ve abandoned Cal and Chris.”

  “Lauren, they are not all different men. They are one. They are all different facets of your husband. You are not cheating on Cal or Chris.”

  “They’re not integrated yet though and until they are….” I cover my face in my hands. “His doctor said I shouldn’t have slept with them, and I’ve slept with all three of them,” I admit, feeling my cheeks heat up.

  “How do you feel about the doctor?”

  I swallow hard and my cheeks heat up even more. “It’s Helen,” I squeak out, and her eyes squint at me.

  “Dexter’s wife? You’re still seeing her, getting advice from her after everything that’s happened?” Angela gawks at me.

  “It just seems easier to talk to her since she won’t think I’m crazy and because she knows the history.”

  “I understand that you feel like you’re alone in dealing with this. I can’t imagine what it is like to be so close to someone with Cal’s condition, but when you talk to a mental health professional, you don’t have to worry about anyone thinking that you’re crazy. We’re here to be your partner.” She says convincingly.

  “Be honest though, if you didn’t know me and I came to see you, you’d think I was insane or an idiot to believe this?”

  She frowns. “No, maybe years ago but after everything I’ve learned, the human mind is a miraculous thing, Lauren. When you grasp the things that it’s capable of, not much would surprise me now. What I will say though, I don’t think you should be seeing Helen, not primarily at least. It’s such a conflict of interest,” she frowns. I rub the back of my neck, the hairs sticking up on it.

  “When we last talked you were vehemently opposed to it, even Chris didn’t want to see her. What changed?” she asked sincerely.

  “Everything happened so fast, problem after problem…” I tell her even though I leave out Mr. Crestfield’s threat. “And… I just wanted to talk to someone who understands, and even though Helen has kept so much from me, I know at least that she gets it,” I say honestly.

  “Have you thought about attending a support group?”

  I push my hands through my hair, my stomach tilting at the mention of it. It’s not as if I haven’t thought about it. It’s just in some part of my mind when I cross into that world, it seems like there will be no going back. What if I hear things I’m not prepared for, and to be honest I’m terrified of hearing from other people. What if this never ends?

  “I’m scared,” I feel my lip quiver. She looks at me, empathy radiating off of her. “I peeked in on a message board once…” I take a deep breath. “It wasn’t exactly a hopeful forum.” I tell her the few stories I skimmed through, traces of familiar things in my life and what’s even scarier, the unfamiliar that could eventually be the inevitable.

  “It’s for support, not for you to compare. Everyone deals with things differently, but don’t you think having someone to talk to who has a similar circumstance would help you?”

  I try to imagine it, talking to another woman who doesn’t only understand but who knows what it’s like.

  “I really hope you consider seeing someone else. What about the doctor Chris was going to originally see?” I think back to Dr. Clemons, and how when Chris called to see her she was magically booked.

  “Chris did say that he felt comfortable with her, well the one time he did see her.” I don’t tell her about Mr. Crestfield’s threat. With so much that’s happened, it was one of the last things I’ve had a chance to think about.

  “I’m always here to listen, but if she has expertise in that field, I think that she’d be more helpful than I would. You have to have your own understanding of what’s going on,” she stresses. I promise her that I will give Dr. Clemons a call, and quickly change the subject. Angie being intuitive as she is doesn’t push me anymore. We talk about Caylen, her parents, and patient sessions. She doesn’t give me any juicy details of course, but explains how nervous and excited she is. We go to lunc
h and even stop by her favorite boutique, and I relish the time, time where I get to feel normal, where I’m just a woman who’s out with her friend trying to find a cute blouse and jeans and I hug her for that.

  “Red and blue,” I tell Caylen as she squishes her hands in the paint. She giggles after she mixes the colors together. “Already a little artist,” I kiss her on the cheek.

  “Mama,” she squeals hitting the paper before swirling her fingers around in it. I let her busy herself with her own artistic masterpiece and put more paint on my fingers and spread them across the large board. She douses her hand in orange paint now and makes little dots then pushes away the little bowl and pours out all the blue onto the board.

  “Beautiful! You really like blue, huh?” I laugh as she smiles and it’s the best feeling in the world. Her grey eyes lighting up look just like her father’s, and a slither of sadness goes through me because I think of Cal. I think of all the time he’s missed out on with her, but I tell myself that they’re all the same, he is still with her as Collin, but I can’t shake the feeling.

  “Boo,” Caylen says in between giggles and I smile widely at her.

  “Blue. Good job sweetie.” I hear the door open and see Collin, his eyes lighting up the moment he lays eyes on her.

  “Look at my little Picasso,” he says excitedly. Caylen pushes herself up and hobbles over to him.

  “No you’re going to get paint all over daddy, Cay,” I tell her but he picks her up and kisses her cheek as if he’s not wearing a thousand dollar suit.

  “That’s the most amazing picture I’ve ever seen!” he says enthusiastically and she grips his face leaving a blue handprint on it and giggles.

  “How was your day?” I ask after he puts his briefcase down and sits in the spot Caylen was just in.

  “Interesting.” He takes off his suit jacket and folds it even though I’ll have to send it to the cleaners.

  “Sparse on details, huh?” I chuckle, and he grins.

  “Let’s see what I can come up with,” he says his attention on Caylen. I feel my brow arch. Collin is never short on details; he often gives too much information if anything.