Shatter Me

by Kim Hartfield

  “I never made any rules.” She’d been so firm about wanting things the way she wanted them. It’d been easier to let her have her way.

  “Let’s imagine you did,” Trudy said. “Let’s say you made a rule that the towels should be hung up, and she kept leaving them on the floor.”

  I almost laughed. That wasn’t something Chantel would ever do. She loved cleanliness. I was always the one walking on eggshells, trying to keep the place spotless so she’d be happy.

  “Imagine she’s left her towel on the floor every day this week, and it’s driving you crazy.” Trudy sounded so intense, I couldn’t help but picture her scenario. “What are you going to do when you come home and find it on the floor again? Do you yell at her?”

  I bit my lip. “Maybe.”

  “Do you call her stupid? Force her to say she’s stupid?”

  My voice got smaller. “No.”

  “Do you call her a bitch? Pathetic? Push her into the wall?”

  I wiped my eyes. “She’s changed,” I whispered.

  “I’m sure she wants you to think she has.” Trudy put her glasses back on, her eyes going blurry once again. “She’s been good to you before – long enough to get you where she wanted you. She’ll put on this ‘changed’ act as long as she needs to, and when she’s confident that you’re not going to leave her, she’ll go right back to how she was.”

  Trudy’s words made sense… too much sense.

  “Now do you see why it might not be a good idea to spend time with her?” she asked softly.

  I crumpled the tissue in my hand. “But we can stay in touch, can’t we?”

  “You already know the answer to that.”

  A sob escaped me, and then another. I didn’t want to lose Chantel forever… but it seemed like I had no choice.

  Sixteen – Sydney

  I fought to hide my grimace as I walked into Lora’s studio apartment. She’d invited me over here so I could visit Virginia, and indeed, the kitten scurried up to me with her usual enthusiasm. Still, my happiness at seeing her was overshadowed by my dismay at the state of the apartment.

  It wasn’t that it was messy – although it was. The place looked like Lora hadn’t cleaned in a week. My issue was more with the complete lack of furniture and the bags strewn across the floor.

  She’d been here for over a month, and she was still practically living out of a suitcase. She clearly hadn’t made an effort to turn this into a home. This was where she slept, and nothing else.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, carefully watching the expression on my face. “I should’ve cleaned. I didn’t have time after work, I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine. Um… where should I sit?” She didn’t even have a chair, for heaven’s sake. Then again, with the size of this place, she barely would’ve had room for one.

  “Oh,” she said. “Um…” She dropped the pillow from her mattress onto the floor. “Is this okay?”

  It would’ve been if I was twenty-five. With my creaky knees, it was less okay. Since I didn’t have much choice, I said “sure” and sat down anyway.

  Lora took a seat on the mattress. Virginia sniffed my legs as if trying to place my scent. Eventually, satisfied, she lay down beside my thigh.

  “So, career stuff?” I asked. “Did you have some more questions for me?”

  “More than I can count,” she sighed. “I’ve sent in a few resumes, and I’m working on getting some volunteer positions.”

  “That’s great! I know you’re going to find something before you know it.” I hesitated. “It might be too soon for you to volunteer at Open Heart, but if you’re interested in picking up some shifts at the soup kitchen or the refugee program where I volunteer, I can put in a word for you.”

  “That’d be nice.” She gazed at me affectionately. “You do far too much for me.”

  I gave a nervous laugh. “Not at all. I still owe you for letting me hang out with Virginia.” I picked up the kitten, who was sleepy enough to settle into a heap on my lap. Success! I petted her, hoping she’d stay for a while.

  Lora shook her head. “You’ve done a ton for me, Sydney, and all I do in return is get mad at you and get rumors spread about you.”

  “First of all, I don’t care that you got mad at me as long as you ended up cutting Chantel off.”

  “I did.” She looked pained.

  “And as for the rumors… they don’t matter, either.” I massaged Virginia’s back. “Aside from the cheating aspect, and those who know me never would’ve believed that, anyway. Heaven forbid I should date a pretty woman.”

  Lora’s eyes widened. “It wasn’t embarrassing for you when people thought we were seeing each other?”

  “Why would it have been? If they knew there was no cheating involved, they would’ve been happy for me.” I looked closer at her. “Do you mean our age difference would’ve embarrassed me?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” She spread out on the mattress, and I couldn’t help but notice how nicely her jeans hugged her slim curves. “I mean, obviously you’d never be interested in me like that.”

  “Of course not. You’re in a rough spot right now, and I’d be taking advantage of your vulnerability if anything were to happen between us.”

  She rolled onto her side so she could look me in the eye. “You mean… if it weren’t for the whole Chantel thing, you could’ve been interested?”

  “If things were different…” I hesitated. “Things would be different.”

  “What does that mean?”

  My cheeks heated. “You’re a beautiful, brilliant, caring woman, Lora. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

  This conversation was going off the rails. I’d certainly had enough thoughts about Lora over the past few months, but I’d never intended to let her know any of them. And with the shocked look on her face, I could see my feelings weren’t returned, anyway.

  “Never mind,” I said. “Let’s talk about Virginia.” I lifted the kitten, holding her face up to mine.

  “Sydney…” Lora’s tone was serious. She sat up, too, her chin in her hand and her elbow on her knee. “I’m still in love with Chantel.”

  “I know.” I was definitely blushing now, my cheeks hot enough to light matches. “I wasn’t implying anything about you and me. I meant anyone else would be lucky to have you.”

  “Okay.” Now she was fidgeting too, her eyes darting around the room. “That’s what I thought. Obviously you wouldn’t…”

  “No, of course not.” I smiled humorlessly. “You’re a friend now, Lora. Let’s leave it at that.”

  I stood up and went to the fridge, hoping she had something that’d cool me down. I should’ve known it would be empty. There was a half-empty carton of eggs in the door, and a few Styrofoam containers of what I assumed was take-out. I opened the freezer, figuring I’d have some ice water. She didn’t even have ice.

  I grabbed a glass and poured myself some lukewarm water from the tap. Returning to Lora’s side, I took a sip.

  “Listen, I’m feeling a little tired,” she said. “Maybe you should head home.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Of course.”

  Her eyes were alert, though. She didn’t look tired at all.

  Our conversation had freaked her out, and now she didn’t want to be around me anymore.

  What else had I expected? Was she supposed to forget all about her abusive ex and immediately declare her love for me?

  I should never have said anything at all.

  *

  I was unreasonably happy to arrive at the soup kitchen the next morning. I’d been mentally replaying the conversation with Lora over and over since I’d left her place, and I was getting sick of beating myself up over my mistakes. At least here, I’d be too busy to think about anything else.

  “Hey, Sydney,” Rebecca said, tossing me my apron as usual. “Ready for an extra-busy day? The other volunteer called in sick.”

  I grinned. “Perfect.”

  Between ladling s
oup into bowls and serving it to the guests who came, the shift went by in a flash. I couldn’t count how many trays I handed out during the four hours – “a lot” was my best guess.

  I felt like I’d done something good – like I’d contributed to society. That dopamine hit was enough to keep me coming back week after week, even when the work was hard or when I had other things that would’ve been more fun to do.

  It’d be fun if Lora volunteered here like I’d suggested. I could just imagine us working side-by-side, trading inside jokes as we chopped and sliced.

  But there she went, sneaking back into my mind again. Rubbing the back of my hand across my sweaty forehead, I stacked dishes to be washed. The dullest part of the volunteer shift was still ahead of me. At least I’d get the chance to chat with Rebecca.

  “Today went well, I think,” she said, sudsing up a bowl. “Everyone seemed happy.” She rinsed it off and handed it to me.

  I dried the bowl and placed it in the rack. “It went really well, considering it was just the two of us.”

  “Yeah, we could really use more volunteers.” She handed me a few pieces of cutlery to dry. “Do you know anyone who might be interested?”

  Had Lora even been sincere when we’d talked about it? And if she had been then, would she still want to volunteer here now? Did I even want her to?

  “No one I can think of,” I said, “but I’ll let you know.”

  Seventeen – Lora

  I almost ignored the phone when it rang. I was heading out of the door, already late for work, and the call was from an unknown number. The thought that it might be something important didn’t cross my mind. Still, I reflexively grabbed it, already kicking myself for answering as I said “hello.”

  “Hi, is this Lora Dayton?”

  “Speaking.”

  “This is Carly Perkins calling from FemWorld Online. Is this a good time to chat?”

  My heartbeat picked up speed. I’d submitted a job application to the popular blog weeks ago, right after my coffee meeting with Sydney. Of course, I already knew Carly’s name – she was something of a legend in feminist circles. I’d been reading her passionate, sometimes controversial articles since high school.

  Right now definitely wasn’t a good time to talk, but if this might be about a job opportunity… “Sure!”

  “I had a chance to look at the resume you submitted,” she said. “Experience writing for your college newspaper, master’s degree in women’s studies… it seems like you might be a great fit to come and write for us!”

  God, that’d be my dream job. “Really?” I squeaked.

  “Definitely. I’d love to Skype you sometime so we could chat further. I’m very curious to hear more about your dissertation, for starters.”

  “I’d be happy to tell you everything you want to know.” I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “Is this for a part-time job?”

  “We do offer full-time hours, actually. It just depends on how many articles a week you’d be interested in writing for us. It’s an online position, and you can set your own schedule. You’ll be an employee, not a freelancer, though. We do have staff meetings over video chat once a week, and you’ll be able to influence the direction of our organization.”

  “Perfect! When would you be available to Skype?”

  We set a time, and I hung up with a shriek. I did a little happy dance around my apartment, making a napping Virginia raise her head in confusion, before I realized I was going to be even later for work.

  I couldn’t wait to tell Chantel about the job interview. No, wait… of course I wouldn’t tell Chantel. I paused at the top of the stairs, surprised at myself. Even now, I still had that automatic instinct to tell her my good news as if we were still together.

  Who else could I share my joy with, though? Sydney? Actually, I never would’ve had the nerve to apply to FemWorld if it hadn’t been for my talk with her. I did need to give her a call sometime, I realized as I rushed to my car. We hadn’t spoken in a while, and I missed her advice and encouragement. I missed a lot of things about her.

  Things had gotten a bit awkward after she’d come over to my place. We probably shouldn’t have talked about the rumors that’d gone around. I definitely shouldn’t have brought them up.

  Well, communication was supposed to be healthy in a relationship, or even a friendship. Now I knew where we stood – that she wasn’t interested in me, and that I’d made a fool of myself by acting like us dating was at all possible.

  Either way, as I’d said, it wouldn’t have been a good idea. Like Chantel always said, she and I belonged together. If I wasn’t with her, I’d be alone. I couldn’t picture myself with anyone else… no matter how amazing and wonderful and gorgeous she happened to be. Sydney had called me her friend, and that alone was more than I could’ve asked for.

  As I parked my car, Chantel’s words from the night of our break-up echoed through my mind. You think anyone else would ever treat you as well as I do, once they found out what you were like? You think anyone else would even want you?

  One day, I’d have to find out. But no matter how long it took for me to start dating again, I knew I’d never be good enough for Sydney.

  *

  I called her that night, asking her to meet for coffee without telling her about the job interview. We decided to meet up on campus the next day since she was teaching and I wasn’t working. Since I had the time to spare, I decided to drop in on her freshman lecture.

  I snuck into the back of the lecture hall about a minute before the class started. The place was packed, and I guessed there were two hundred or more students here. I remembered how intimidating this environment had been when I was an undergrad. Now the students all looked like babies to me.

  I slid a small notepad out of my purse. I fully intended to take notes, even if I wasn’t going to be tested on the material. I’d thought the notepad would help me blend in, although now I realized I was the only one without a laptop or tablet.

  Sydney took her place at the podium, and her quick mic check got everyone’s attention. Everyone around me was quiet, at least for the moment. A few soft whispers started as she launched into her lecture. I shook my head. These kids couldn’t leave their gossip for after class?

  Pausing in her speech, Sydney glanced around the room. “If I could have some quiet, please.” She located the whispering students with her eyes, and her withering stare was enough to make them hush. She turned back to her PowerPoint presentation, and I relaxed. She hadn’t seen me… yet.

  She wore a gray blazer with her hair pinned back in a casual-yet-fashionable updo. A blonde strand fell by her face, making her look slightly undone. Meanwhile, the glasses she didn’t normally wear added to her appearance of power and authority.

  The subject of her lecture was current events, mostly the #MeToo movement. Once she got into it, there were no more issues with the students’ focus – well, minimal issues. These were still Generation Z kids, and their attention spans were permanently short.

  For my part, I listened raptly as she discussed some of the trickier issues within the movement. What happened when sexual assault allegations couldn’t be proved? What should the legal system do with female-on-male sexual assaults?

  Sydney’s passion for the subject was written across her face. She looked more gorgeous than ever as she led the class through different avenues of thought. I leaned my chin in my hand, my notepad forgotten.

  When she asked a discussion question, there were more hands up than she could deal with. The students gave intelligent, salient answers that led to more questions for the class to discuss. I toyed with my pen, thinking rather than writing. I wished I could raise my hand, but if Sydney hadn’t noticed me yet, I didn’t want to draw her attention.

  I waited in my seat for the class to end. As soon as Sydney dismissed her students, I got up – and immediately stopped when her eyes locked with mine. She strode over to me, exuding confidence with each step.

  “What a
re you doing here?” she asked. She sounded amused, and maybe the tiniest bit nervous. “You really threw off my teaching.”

  “I did?” I thought she’d been the same as she was when I was in her class. “I never would’ve guessed. You were fantastic.”

  A tinge of pink came into her cheeks. “So why’d you come?”

  “I was curious what class you had, so I checked the online schedule, and it sounded good,” I said. “Plus I need a refresher on women’s issues if I’m going to start writing for a certain wildly popular online blog.”

  She blinked. “FemWorld?”

  “I got a job interview.”

  “Oh my gosh!” she squealed, and wrapped me in a hug.

  Her arms were warm around me as her body pressed up to mine. Her breasts pushed against mine, and her sweet Sydney-like scent drifted to my nose. The breath left my throat – and all too quickly, she let go.

  “That’s amazing,” she said. “Congratulations!”

  “I haven’t gotten the job yet.” Unable to meet her eyes, I regarded the floor.

  “I have a feeling that you’re going to.” She put her arm around me, squeezing me in a one-armed hug. “You have some exceptional writing samples in your portfolio. And you know if they ask you for references, you have one right here, right?”

  “I couldn’t ask you for that.”

  She shook her head, placing her arm on the small of my back to guide me toward the front of the room. She grabbed her briefcase and, without touching me now, brought me outside. “Of course you can ask me for a reference,” she said. “Have I not made it clear by now that I care about you and want to see you succeed?”

  “Okay, that’s true.”

  “A reference will barely take any time or effort. You act like I’m offering to go to war for you.”

  She did have a point. I guess I just wasn’t used to such kindness. My parents were always willing to help me out, although I didn’t like going to them, either. But they’d given birth to me. When it came to non-related people, the only one who’d ever really seemed to care was Chantel – and I’d already seen the flip side of that coin. Was there a dark side to Sydney’s generosity as well?