Shattered

by Ava Conway

  “He wanted to try to work things out, but your sister refused, saying that the only way she’d consider staying in the marriage was if they stopped trying to have children together. After everything they had been through, she didn’t want to have kids anymore. She wanted to give up.”

  “Do you blame her?”

  My mother let out a long sigh. “No, not really.”

  “I can’t believe he left her.”

  “They had tried to work it out for a while, even going to therapy, but a family was just too important to Steve. He couldn’t give up on the idea, not completely.”

  “So he dumped her,” I said, my voice flat with disbelief.

  “It was a mutual decision.”

  “I can’t believe he did this to her. What a bastard.”

  “Mia, this is what your sister wants. It’s for the best.”

  “No, it’s for his best. How’s Lacey doing?”

  “She’s . . . taking a break from life right now to find herself again.” There was worry in my mother’s tone. “She said that she’d call me in a week, but I’m worried about her. She should be gravitating toward her family, not away.” My mom’s voice cracked with emotion. “But your father was the same way.”

  “I need to call her.” Call and talk some sense into her. Couldn’t she see what she was doing was hurting the family? If she became depressed and went on medication again, I wasn’t sure if our little family could weather the fallout.

  “No, she doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now.” My mom’s voice sounded bitter. “She’s going on a trip with her girlfriends to St. Lucia to get her mind off of the divorce. She said she’ll call you when she gets back.”

  “She doesn’t want to talk to me?”

  “She doesn’t want to talk to anyone.” An uncomfortable silence descended between us, then my mother added, “Honey, you know how much I have been involved in your sister’s life. Not just going with her to doctors’ appointments, but the praying and the acupuncture, and dealing with her mood swings and keeping her from getting depressed again . . .”

  I closed my eyes and fought back my tears. “I know, Mom. I’m so sorry.”

  “I really wanted this to work out, not just for me, but for her. For all of us.”

  “I know.” My mother had tried to help my father and failed. If my sister failed as well . . . I didn’t want to think about it.

  “She’s twenty-eight and has no interest in children. What man will ever be interested in her?”

  A sob rose up in my chest, threatening to tumble out and reveal my deepest, darkest fear. I squeezed my eyes shut and covered them with my free hand. My mother had no idea how close her words hit home. None. With a little luck, she’d never know.

  “Oh, Mia . . . I’m so glad your life is on track and I don’t have to worry about you. I’m not sure if I could take two children with their lives in such a mess.”

  Somehow I managed to regain control of my emotions enough to speak. “You don’t have to worry about me, Mom. I’ll be fine.” The words sounded hollow, but it was better that than to let her know how broken I was inside.

  “I know, dear. You always were the one I didn’t have to worry about. I’m so blessed to have you.”

  We exchanged a few more pleasantries and then our good-byes. Leaning back on the futon, I stared at the folders in front of me.

  I closed my photo album and put it back in the box, unable to deal with my past anymore tonight. After staring at my water for a few minutes, I returned it to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of merlot. Tonight was a night for stronger stuff.

  I should have known that Steve would divorce my sister for not giving him children. It was such a typical thing for a man to do.

  I filled my wineglass to the top as old wounds reopened and pain flowed freely through my system.

  “Here’s to you, Lacey,” I said as I raised my glass to the empty house. “Fuck Steve and his need for children. Fuck all men and their self-centered, egotistical ways.” I emptied the glass and set it on the counter.

  Tonight I’d allow myself one night of pain for my sister. Grabbing my wineglass and the bottle, I stumbled into the living room and back on the futon, where I turned on some reality television. The mind-numbing banter was a favorite of my sister’s, and made me feel closer to her. As I sat there and sipped my drink, my thoughts slowly turned away from my pain and toward my future. A future that would make my mother proud and would help my sister and people like her.

  Tomorrow I wouldn’t let Nesto goad me with his words, or Flynn charm me with his kindness. I’d observe their behavior like a good doctor should and teach them how to bury their emotions and become functioning members of society once more.

  This was my purpose, my destiny, and I’d do whatever it took to see it through.

  THE NEXT MORNING, I stepped into the halls of Newton Heights Psychiatric Hospital with renewed purpose. A new day meant a clean slate, and I wanted to take advantage of it.

  ”Back for more, are you?” the dark-skinned security guard asked as he went through my things.

  “Yup. I have an internship,” I explained.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said as he put my things back and handed me my briefcase. “Most people hired to work in the mental health building don’t last more than a few weeks.”

  “Why?” I asked as I grabbed the handle from his hand.

  The security guard shrugged his big shoulders. “Too depressing, I guess.”

  I said my good-days and moved through the foyer. It was overcast this morning, and the clouds overhead blocked the sun from the skylights and cast shadows on the floor below. As I passed the information desk, the older man raised his “disgruntled employee of the month” mug to his lips as his gaze remained fixed firmly on the paper. He looked just as unkempt as yesterday, and even more cantankerous, if that were possible. I hurried by him and into the quad. As I moved past the smartly dressed visitors and staff, each step became less and less sure. Most people don’t last more than a few weeks. I wondered if that was true of the long-term care unit as well. I took solace in the fact that Dr. Polanski had been there for years, even if her staff had a high turnover.

  When the elevator doors closed and I was sealed off from the rest of the hospital, I let out a sigh of relief. There was something about this place that felt intimidating. Perhaps it was because the hospital was so big and I was so small. I hugged my briefcase to my chest and tried to gather my courage as the elevator climbed to my floor.

  You can do this. As the doors opened, I stepped out into the hall with confidence and focused on my goal. I kept my gaze ahead of me and strode with purpose, knowing that making eye contact with the patients would only invite conversation and make myself vulnerable. With my head held high, I waved to Pam at the front desk, who wiggled her fingers at me in return. So far, so good. I strode down the halls with confidence as I adjusted my glasses on my nose. Today was a new day and a new beginning. This time I was going to do things right.

  As I turned the corner and disappeared from the view of the reception desk, a large presence fell into step beside me.

  “You’re back.”

  Despite my resolve, I risked a quick, sideways glance at the man beside me. Flynn was wearing the same T-shirt with the energy drink logo as yesterday, but sported a darker pair of jeans and a less faded hoodie. His hair was still wrapped in the same bandanna, and he had the same wicked grin.

  “Yes, I’m back.” I pushed aside the tingles of awareness dancing over my skin and forced my gaze back on the hall in front of me. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  “Why?”

  It was an odd question, and it shook me up enough that I stopped walking and turned to face him. “Why does everyone keep asking me why I’m here?”

  He shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Dunno. Maybe it’s because you don’t look like you should be here.”

  “Of course I belong.” I tightened my grip on
my briefcase. “I worked very hard to get here. I deserve this.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  I shifted my stance and considered him. “Tell me, if I don’t fit in here, then where do you think I belong?”

  He flashed me a seductive grin that warmed me all the way down to my toes. “With your friends at the country club, drinking mimosas and having brunch.”

  I steeled my jaw as anger rushed through my system. “That’s not me.” I didn’t have any friends besides Lucy, and she wasn’t about to have a mimosa or any other type of alcoholic drink, not after what happened to her.

  He tilted his head to the side and glanced down at my brand-new Donna Karan suit and matching pumps. “Oh, yeah? Could have fooled me.”

  I ground my teeth and started down the hall once more. “Excuse me.”

  Flynn fell into step beside me once more, and his lazy stride grated on my nerves.

  “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” I asked through clenched teeth.

  Someone called out to him from across the hall, but he waved them away. “Look, I’m sorry. We don’t get very many new people around here.”

  “Funny, the security guard downstairs said that most staff doesn’t last more than a few weeks.”

  “That might be in other departments, but here . . . it doesn’t matter if you are staff or a patient. Once you walk these halls, you tend to stay here for life.”

  I stopped walking and turned to face him. “And I suppose you believe that you will be here for life?”

  “Of course. My fate is sealed.”

  And just like that I knew why Flynn had given up trying to get better. It was so obvious that I was surprised Dr. Polanski had never noticed it before. Flynn had lost his hope for the future.

  Boy, did I know what that felt like. Anger flowed out of my body like a tidal wave, leaving me weak and tired. I relaxed my shoulders and softened my voice. “What about Lucy White? She left.”

  He averted his gaze and kicked a piece of dust on the floor. “Lucy was different.”

  I studied the top of his head for a moment. “You liked her, didn’t you?”

  He glanced up and studied my face. “Yes, but not in the way you’re thinking. We were just friends. She was too into Jayden to notice anyone else.”

  “Well, if Lucy could move to a group home, then anyone could.”

  “Not me.”

  “Why?” When he didn’t answer, I asked another question on my mind. “Why did your family move to D.C. from Boston?”

  He leaned back, as if struck. “How do you know that?”

  Realizing I said too much, I started walking toward my office once more.

  “Wait,” he said as he hurried to catch up to me. “I’ll tell you.”

  I stopped walking and lifted my chin, hoping he wouldn’t ask me how I found out about his past. I must have successfully kept the guilt from my features, because instead of inquiring, he answered my question.

  “It’s a long story,” he said as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “My dad emigrated from Ireland and met Mom in South Boston. Said she was the prettiest thing he had ever seen and didn’t give up until he married her. We were all born there.”

  “We?”

  “My sister and three brothers.” When I didn’t say anything, he shifted his stance and glanced down the hall. “When my pa’s factory got downsized, we moved south to where my mom had some extended family.”

  “Ah.” I lowered my chin, feeling even guiltier than before. This was all personal information, and I was forcing him to tell it to me. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Those first few years in D.C. were good years. Mom found a job in a local library and Dad got a second factory position. With both of them working, I took care of the young ones and made sure they stayed out of trouble.”

  “How old were you?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Thirteen, fourteen . . . doesn’t really matter, does it?”

  “No, I suppose not.” Gosh, that seemed so young. I looked at Flynn with some newfound respect. It must have been hard for someone so young to look after so many children.

  “Anyway, between that and the boxing, I was kept pretty busy.”

  “You were a boxer?”

  “Yeah, I wanted to learn how to fight to keep some bullies from picking on my sister. Next thing I knew I was winning the junior lightweight tournaments around the city.”

  “Wow.” I stared at him and tried to let all of this new information sink in. “That must have taken a lot of dedication and commitment.”

  “Sure did, but I didn’t mind. The money I earned from those matches helped to put food on the table.”

  “What about school?”

  “What about it?”

  “When did you have time for school?”

  He shrugged. “I already had a job. What did I need school for?”

  Flynn’s list of medications ran through my mind. Mood suppressors, antiseizure . . . “You must have gotten hit in the head a lot.”

  He tapped his temple. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” He twisted his lips into a grin and inched closer. “It taught me how to get up and fight for what I believe in—and how to protect the people I care about.” He slid his finger down the side of my arm. “I always protect the people I care about.”

  “I believe it.” He was standing so close, dangerously close. My skin tingled and my mouth ran dry as he held my gaze. I thought about how much I’d love having someone protect me, someone who didn’t have expectations and I could be myself around. The silent promise in Flynn’s eyes was so addictive. I wanted to believe that he’d take all of my problems and make them go away.

  “Hey, Flynn,” Elias said, tapping him on the shoulder as he walked by. “Group therapy in five.”

  “Sure thing,” Flynn said as he stepped away from me, breaking the odd spell that had fallen over us. As my head cleared, I remembered where we were and how I had promised myself to keep a professional distance from him. When Flynn turned back to me, I struggled to say something—anything—that would put some distance between us.

  As it turned out, it was Flynn, not I, who spoke first. “I still have that picture Nesto and Carter talked about yesterday, if you want to see it.”

  The picture. I had completely forgotten about it.

  “Lucy gave it to me.” He took his hand out of his pocket and adjusted his bandanna. “It’s a picture of you and her with some friends in college. She gave it to me to remember her by, but since you’re here, I thought you should have it.”

  It took me a moment to find my voice. Once I did, I noticed that it sounded hoarse and strained. “Sure.”

  “Okay, I’ll bring it around later.” He brushed a stray hair from my face. “I like your hair better today,” he said, referring to my French twist. “It’s softer than yesterday, more you.”

  Yesterday I had tried to copy Dr. Polanski’s bun and my hair was miserable for it. I found my curly locks much preferred the softer twist to the more severe style.

  “You really shouldn’t touch me,” I said, but instead of easing back, I leaned into his touch. He felt so warm and inviting. Something was starting to form between us, and it frightened me. I couldn’t deny that my skin heated wherever he touched. There was nothing sexual about the movement of his fingers, but it felt so caring, so intimate. For a girl who had been on her own for so long, his touch was intoxicating.

  I resisted the urge to close my eyes and lose myself to the moment. “We’re breaking the rules.” I forced myself to remember where we are. Anyone could see us out in the hall. See us and report us.

  I stepped out of his touch, even though every muscle in my body protested at the movement. “In fact, we shouldn’t even be talking outside of scheduled therapy sessions,” I said, paraphrasing what Dr. Polanski had told me yesterday.

  “I see.” He dropped his hand and took a step back.

  “It’s really for the best.”

  The wa
rmth in his features disappeared, and his jaw became hard. “Yes, for the best.” He turned to go.

  “Tell Dr. Polanski I’ll be a little late to group therapy. There’s something I need to do first.” I needed a few minutes to regain my resolve and composure, but he didn’t need to know that.

  He didn’t acknowledge my response, but instead walked away with slow, purposeful strides. With each step, a dark hole got wider in my chest. He was angry, and I wanted nothing more than to call him back and apologize. Well, if I was really honest, I wanted to do more than just apologize. I wanted to touch him like he touched me, to press my lips against his and feel his arms around my waist.

  No. Boundaries had to be set. If there were no boundaries, then the patients would walk all over me, just like Nesto tried to do in group therapy yesterday. If I ever was going to impress Dr. Polanski, I had to take her advice and create some emotional distance between me and the patients.

  I thought about Johnson and Everett, and how they had treated Nesto yesterday. The way they had forced Nesto down on the floor and held him like some animal had disgusted me. It was one thing to create emotional distance between you and the patients; it was another thing entirely to treat them as something less than human.

  After Flynn rounded the corner, I glanced around the hall and found Johnson watching me. His plain, white uniform was neatly pressed, his stance self-assured. The man seemed much more confident than he did yesterday. It made me feel uneasy. When our gazes met, he flashed me a knowing look that made me feel cheap and dirty.

  “Getting to know the patients a little better, are we?”

  I lifted my chin. “That’s none of your business.”

  He pushed off the wall and began to close the distance between us with slow, purposeful strides. “You don’t have to waste your time playing around with puppies when there is a full-grown Doberman ready to protect you.” He put his finger under my chin, but I jerked my head away before he could grasp it.

  “I happen to like puppies.”

  “Hmm.” He smiled and took a step back. “Puppies are unpredictable, but Dobermans are loyal. More intelligent, too.” He winked and pointed at me. “Remember that next time you’re playing with your puppy.” He swung his finger around and pointed to the camera in the corner of the hall.