Broken (3 page)

Geoff said nothing. Thankfully. Because I wasn’t
finished.

“And I grew up unloved all these years, deliberately.
I’m like a human shield. ‘Here, take this one,
it’s no good to us’!”

I pulled at my hair.

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to
talk to. My psychiatrist will have a field day with
this!”

Geoff got up from the table and walked over to me. He looked
like he might try to hug me.

“Don’t touch me. Please.”

Geoff backed off, but his silent eyes never left me.

“How did this happen? Who let something like this
happen?”

I grabbed the letter. “Look, just like the other letter,
she didn’t even sign it with ‘Your Mother’!
It’s like she was finally admitting to me what I knew all
along — I was never hers.”

I threw it on the table.

“All these years of meds and questioning my own sanity,
all because of this. Do you have any idea what my life has been
like? I’m exhausted, Geoff. I’m mentally and
emotionally exhausted from a roller coaster ride that never ends. I
can’t do this anymore. I can’t.”

Eventually I gave in and sobbed. My legs buckled and I grabbed
the table for support.

I wept. There was nothing left to me but torrents of pain that
flooded out in gasping sobs. I let it all out and Geoff stood there
beside me.

“Why?” I managed to say. “Why?”

Finally he whispered to me. “I don’t know,” he
said. “But we’ll find out who did this.”

I looked at him.

“We’ll start with Aunt Marigold. And I’ll
search through the house for anything Mom left behind. Something
isn’t right here.”

I said nothing. I lowered my head. I wasn’t sure I even
cared to know. At this point, I just wanted to go home.

“I know she wasn’t a very good mother to you. I
think I’ve always known she liked me more, but this seems too
cruel. It’s crazy. I can’t believe she would have
written this, or she would have done this. It’s not like
her.”

I blinked for a moment.

What?

It was exactly like her, actually. And the letter was in her
handwriting. Those “o”s were unmistakable.

As I looked at Geoff I could see the denial in his eyes. He was
refusing to believe that our mother, or rather
his
mother, had been
capable of this. I didn’t know what to do with it.

As he backed up, I felt like a giant knife came down, severing
the last of any connection I had with him. He paper-clipped the
papers and passed them to me. I suddenly felt very alone. I suppose
I could have protested his disbelief, but what was the point. A few
more tears slid down my cheeks before I took them from him and then
followed him out the door. He’d have to come to his senses on
his own.

Geoff left me at my apartment, promising to get back to me with
anything he found. I needed to sleep, and I think he needed some
time to think. I tossed the papers from Mother on the coffee table.
They skidded across, knocking the cordless to the floor. I
didn’t bother to retrieve it since it was in line of sight of
the ficus. I just collapsed on the bed.

It usually takes me some time to fall asleep, but this time it
was almost instant. I didn’t dream, or I didn’t
remember if I did. I just turned off.

Chapter 3

A knock at the door woke me. I grumbled, looking at the old
digital clock on the floor. The bright red numbers read nine
o’clock. I wondered who the hell would be knocking at the door and
then I groaned as I remembered.

Chris!

Some friend I was.

I scraped myself out of bed. I didn’t look in the mirror.
I didn’t care how I looked. I just opened the door.

Chris was standing there, hands in his jean pockets. The look on
his face changed from a somewhat down-trodden to a wide-eyed
‘Woah, you look like shit!’ look.

He grabbed my arm. “Are you okay?”

A laugh somehow escaped my lips. “I look that bad, do
I?”

He smiled. He had great teeth.

Actually, he had great everything — blonde hair, broad
shoulders, rugby legs, and an ass you can’t help but want to squeeze. He was a bit on the shorter
side, but somehow it didn’t matter. He had good sized feet
too, and wide.

I laughed on the inside.

Despite how numb I was feeling, I couldn’t believe I was
sizing him up. I did it every time I saw him. It was difficult to
view him as platonic sometimes, even though our friendship started
out that way.

I think the corner of my lips must have shown what I was
thinking because his grin got bigger.

“What are you smiling at?” he asked. One hand went
up to press against the door frame, and he leaned in. It was like a
sudden wave of charm just flooded off him, all warm and
intense.

“Nothing,” I said. I actually took a step back.
“I’m glad you’re here.”

I pulled the door open further to let him in.

“I was worried when you didn’t show up,” he
said. “I tried calling, but you weren’t
answering.”

“Sorry about that,” I said. I wasn’t going to
make up excuses or lie, I’m not that kind of girl.
“I’ve been sleeping for hours. It’s been a shitty
day.”

Chris took off his leather jacket and was about to sit on the
couch when he grabbed the cordless off the floor. It was making
that annoying sound when the phone has been off the hook too long.
He turned it off.

“That would explain why I couldn’t reach you,”
he said, “and I don’t have your cell number.”

I had never really thought to offer it.

“I need to fix that,” he said. He pulled out his
own. “What is it?” There was a grin on his
face. It lightened my mood, which I needed.

I don’t have a dainty giggle or a modest chuckle. I
don’t have a hideous cackle either, but my laughs tend to be
loud. One of them burst out.

“Fine, fine,” I said. I gave it to him and then
offered him something to drink. He gladly accepted so I pulled a
couple of beers out of the fridge. They weren’t the twist off
kind, forcing me to rummage through the drawers to find the bottle
opener. By the time I got the beers opened, I found Chris over by
the ficus. He grabbed the watering can beside it and poured what
was left through the withering leaves.

“I’m terrible with plants,” I said.

He turned and smiled. “You haven’t killed it
yet.”

But I almost did, no thanks to you.

He sat on the futon and picked up the leather-bound stack of
papers. “These look old.”

I sat next to him. “I just got them today.” Then I
picked up the ones from Joan. “With these.”

I’m not exactly sure why I did that. Chris was a good
friend, someone I knew I could confide in, but even this was a bit
more than I would have shared with him. Our friendship had been
growing steadily since I met him. I think he actually knew more
about me than my roommate did. Tonight, I think I needed someone to
read the crap printed there and to understand; to be on my side, as
childish as that seemed.

He scanned the letter. Every once in a while his eyebrows would
furrow.

I sucked on my beer while he read.

“Wow,” he said. “Is it true?”

“What, that I’m adopted?”

“No, …well, yeah, but I was thinking more about
this curse thing.”

I laughed. “Curse? Seriously? You don’t believe in
that stuff, do you?”

“Well it would suck if it’s true.”

I took another swig. “What sucks is that some crazy woman
adopted me
because
she believed in that crap. I grew up as this
thing that needed to be fed, rather than as a daughter.”

He gave a slight nod, seeming to accept my logic. He took a long
swig of his own beer. “So what’s the rest of this
stuff?”

I shrugged, and opened the leather-bound papers.

It looked to be a diary entry from my grandfather.

Today, the little green man appeared again. I haven’t seen
him in months.

I nearly spat out my beer at those words. I gulped hard to keep
it from spewing out and put the papers back on the coffee
table.

I looked at Chris, lips pressed together. “You still up
for some pool?” I asked.

I needed to get out.

He looked taken aback for a moment, but smiled and put his beer
on the table. “Sure!”

I got up and slipped into my room. I had a quick glance in the
mirror. There was some color in my cheeks. With my hair pulled back
in my cap, I figured I could pass for looking like the living.

I grabbed my jacket. Chris grabbed his, and we were out the
door.

The pool hall was within stumbling distance of my apartment so
it didn’t take long to get there. We didn’t talk about
what I’d just read. I think he got the idea I needed to forget
about what had ruined my day.

A light drizzle moistened the air, and we laughed about our last
rugby game. We had narrowly lost because of the rain. It had
cost us a round of drinks at the bar with the other team, but it
had been all in fun.

A car sped along the road behind us. Chris nudged me over on the
sidewalk so he walked between me and the road. It was a strange
thing to notice, but if there was one thing about Chris I’d
learned, it was that he had chivalry down to an art.

He held the door open for me at the pool hall and then took our
jackets. After hanging them on stools near the end of the bar, he
ordered a couple of beers.

One of the bartenders, nodded at me. “Usual
table?”

“Thanks, Paul,” I said.

He thumbed towards Chris’s back and muttered the word,
“Really?”

I laughed. “It’s not like that,” I said.

“You still with Tony?” he asked.

One of those bellowing laughs escaped my mouth. I was glad Tony
wasn’t there to hear it. “You’ve got to be
kidding. That lasted one date.”

Paul handed me the balls and rack. “Not according to him.
By the way he talks, you’re pining for him all the
time.”

I just smiled. “Then let him think that.”

Chris turned from the bar. Two beers in hand, he sauntered over,
looking me straight in the eyes. For a brief moment, I
couldn’t move.

All I could focus on was his green eyes. It was sort of a
captivating moment in which my feet were glued to the floor.

I could swear for a brief second his eyes changed — to
something brighter. My breath caught in my throat as he walked towards me.

I felt my face flush. I fumbled to rack the balls, trying to
catch my breath once more and turn my attention away from his
eyes.

This wasn’t good. This wasn’t the time to be looking
at him like this, if ever. He was way out of my league.

I handed him one of the cues. His finger brushed mine as he took it. I looked away as fast as I could.

The chalk dropped to the floor, and I stooped to retrieve it. He got it before I did.

“Let me,” he said. He put his hand over mine, warm
and large, and dusted the end of the cue. His eyes refused to leave mine.

The word, “Thanks,” was all I managed to choke out.
Waves of charm flooded over me. I stepped back, trying to clear my
head.

I went to break and he stopped me, grin in full force “You
plan on breaking with the rack still on?”

I smiled, demurely. I nearly had to slap myself out of this. I
was acting like such a girl.

Then I shot the ball clean off the table.

He went after it while I grabbed my beer. I took three hard
gulps, hoping something would wake me from this dream.

This
wasn’t happening. I didn’t need this.

At least,
that’s what I kept telling myself. Yet, I couldn’t help
but notice how good he looked in his jeans as well as how his
button-up shirt hung from his shoulders and chest. I was usually
pretty good about making sure my head ruled before anything else.
But I was having a really hard time with that right now. The fact I
couldn’t even play pool properly was not a good sign.

Not good at all.

“You seem a little flustered,” he said. That green
eyed glow was there again. “You sure you want to
play?”

“I don’t know,” I said. He smiled again, all
charisma.

That lump in my throat was there once more.

“Not really,” I managed to utter.

“You want to go back to your place?”

I closed my eyes. This was happening way too fast. It
wasn’t like him, at least not with me.

But as he grabbed our jackets, I knew where
this was going.

I feared it as much as some visceral part of me also wanted
it.

I was going to take him home.

Chapter 4