Faded Perfection (Beautifully Flawed Book 2)

Copyright © Cassandra Giovanni, 2016

All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be produced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Show n’ot Tell Publishing

Connecticut, USA

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, events or locations are wholly coincidental.

PUBLISHER’S CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:

Giovanni, Cassandra

Faded Perfection

ISBN: 978-0692689424

Cover Art: Gio Design Studios © 2016

Printed in the United States of America

I’d never seen the man that stood in front of me, but somehow I knew that look. My skin crawled as he looked back at Adam and me. He opened his mouth to speak, and all I could see was the movement; all I could hear was white noise. I felt Adam’s hand go slack in mine, and the world spiraled back at me. The force of the realization knocked the breath I had been holding out of my lungs. I struggled to breathe as the words pounded into my brain and shattered my soul.

“There’s nothing we could do for him.”

Him. Bobby. Gone.

My head jerked back in slow motion as I heard Adam’s knees hit the floor. The hospital droned, but all I could hear was Adam sobbing at my feet with his fists pounding into the ground. I realized I was still staring at the doctor unblinking as my brain struggled to catch up—as I struggled to get air.

In my mind I was trembling, screaming Bobby’s name, ripping at my hair. In my head, I lost it. In real life, I was standing doing nothing. Not even breathing.

The doctor’s eyes trailed down to Adam and mine followed.

Reality jolted into me and everything suddenly was going too fast. Adrenaline rushed through me as I pulled Adam into my arms, a broken shell of a person, something I desperately wanted to be but couldn’t. The noises bore down on me now, pulsating into my skull as I tried to grasp on to Adam as the beehive that was the hospital exploded in my brain.

“Tara?” I finally asked.

I looked at Adam in my arms to the doctor. He swallowed.

More bad news, but it wasn’t
that
news.

“We aren’t sure yet. She’s comatose.”

I nodded as I pulled Adam to the chairs where he continued to shudder. I closed my eyes as I tried to block out the noises around me. My senses burned with the imagined stench of death, the sound of sobbing and the buzzing of machines as the person on the other end struggled to live…or died. The worst part was the emptiness I felt growing within me; a black hole that fought to consume me, one that already seemed to have devastated Adam.

Then I heard it—the running—a heaved breath as two sets of feet stopped in front of me.

“Oh. God. No,” Vickie’s voice hit an unbearable pitch.

“River!” she screamed in my face. “Where’s my son?”

I pried open my eyes, and the look on my tear-stained face told her the truth.

“No!” she screeched as I tucked my head into Adam’s shoulder against the sound. “
No
!”

Her wails softened against the fabric of a shirt, and I knew Alec pulled her into his arms.

So we crumbled. A broken family even further broken by the lack of the one thing that held it together: Bobby.

Adam’s sobs finally softened, but I felt the silent tears still continuing to stain my shirt. His, or mine—I couldn’t tell.

It didn’t really matter.

So we break

as we take God’s mistakes

for misguided perceptions of fate.

• FADE BURN
  

I sat there with Adam’s head in my lap, running my fingers through his hair until the tears stopped, and his breathing slowed. He was asleep, and I didn’t know how to feel anymore. He flinched at my touch when he thought I’d blame him, but now it seemed to be the only thing holding him together…semi-together. He still blamed himself, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I’d always been able to help Adam, and now I didn’t know how to because I was just as broken. Sighing, I moved his head onto a pillow and stood to get some air. Once outside the apartment I sunk to the floor with my back against the door separating  Adam and me.

I was so close to losing everything I loved. Bobby was dead; Tara was lingering on the edge of darkness, and Adam…I didn’t know what would happen to him. His grief was overpowering. It felt like all the air has been sucked out of the earth, and I was suffocating from it while drowning in an ocean of pain.

I struggled to feel as my eyes bore into the faded wood door across from me. I might never see two of my best friends walk out that door again. I’d certainly never see Bobby walk out it again. Finally, I bowed my head to my knees and sobbed. There was no one there to comfort me, but I wasn’t sure that was what I needed. Adam needed me to be strong, so I would be—at least when he was watching.

My phone vibrating in my pocket pulled me out of my sadness.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Duckie?” Dad’s voice was a shock to my system, and I had to take a deep breath.

“Daddy…Daddy,” my voice cracked as a fresh set of tears streamed down my face. “Bobby—”

“I know—don’t say it.”

“What do I do?” I asked through hiccups. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Where’s Adam?”

“Asleep.”

“You need me, Duckie?”

“Yes,” I replied, my voice as weak as I felt. “But Mom will kill you.”

“Nothing is worth your pain—especially not a stupid tattoo. How’s Adam handling things?”

“He’s screwed up,” I replied. I thought back to the hospital. He hadn’t said a word. He handed me the keys to the GLI and curled up on the back seat. Then when we got home he stared at his cell phone until he admitted his guilt—that he thought the whole thing was his fault.

“We all are. None of us saw this coming…none of us could imagine…”

“I don’t know if I can fix him…it’s like he’s not even there. He sobs, but doesn’t speak—he holds me, but only to hang on.”

“I know this won’t make things better, but it’s only been a few days—eventually everything will settle.”

My head dipped back against the door, and I closed my eyes. “I don’t think you’re right.”

I heard his car start. “I’ll be there as soon as traffic allows. I love you, Duckie.”

“I love you, too.”

I hung up the phone and stared at Bobby’s door again before standing and going to it. Bobby’s hands touched these surfaces. It was the only thing left, pieces of him, scattered memories. Our childhood. Twenty years of happiness and he molded himself into a part of who I was. Now I was torn in two. I needed to stay strong for Adam, but I wanted to crawl in the same hole Bobby would be buried in. The overwhelming pain of loving Bobby washed over me again, and every touch remembered sliced a part of me away. Each laugh that echoed through my skull was a memory of intense happiness suddenly overruled by intense pain.

“River?” a groggy Adam asked from behind me.

I looked over my shoulder to where he stood in the doorway, and my tears stopped. I wondered if it was because there were none left.

“Hey,” I replied as I let go of the door knob.

“I heard you talking?”

I held my cell phone up. “It was Dad.”

“Your dad?”

I nodded.

“He heard?”

“He’s coming,” I said.

“Now?”

I nodded.

“We need one good parent here,” Adam said as he stepped forward and closed the gap between us.

He pulled me into his arms and buried his face in my hair, muffling his words. “I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again.”

It was the one thing that pained me as much as the loss of Bobby—what if Adam couldn’t ever be Adam again?

What if I could never be River again?

Every day passed in slow motion as we waited to put Bobby in the ground. This day was the wake, which reminded me this would only be half of it. I squeezed my eyes shut as my stomach rolled. The Beckerson’s opted to have the wake in the morning since icy conditions were the norm this time of year in New England and no one wanted– I stopped the thought before I could finish it. Instead, I rolled over in bed, blinking my dry eyes until they adjusted to the morning light. Adam sat in the chair beside the window  staring at his bass guitar laying in his lap. When I sat up, his gaze shot up to mine, and my body numbed  how hollow I felt. I watched as darkness moved across his eyes, making them cold. I pulled my knees to my chest, watching as he stood and placed the guitar on its stand before leaving the room without saying a word. My forehead dropped to my knees as the tears I kept in swarmed my eyes. I heard the coffee pot begin to trickle, but I stayed there, staring at the motionless guitar until the tinkling of water against empty glass slowed and the smell of coffee filled the apartment.

Part of me wanted to cry, but another part of me felt there were no tears left. I took a deep breath before heading into the living room where Adam leaned against the island watching the pot fill. He didn’t acknowledge me, and I turned into the bathroom, stripping off my clothes and turning the shower on as hot as I could bear. The heat burned my skin, pushing into my aching muscles but not touching my heart. My skin was red when I got out of the shower, but I still felt so cold. I pushed the thought of the chasm that seemed to have opened between Adam and me overnight out of my mind as I searched through my makeup drawer for anything waterproof. My eyes rose to the mirror. My skin lacked any color, besides the purple circles beneath my eyes, and I realized I just didn’t give a shit. I inhaled, wrapping the towel tighter around myself before walking out of the bathroom. Adam was already in his suit, and my coffee sat on the island in a travel mug. The air felt low of oxygen as I stared at him sitting on the barstool with his back to me.

I wanted to say something, but nothing felt right. There was nothing I could say to fix the rift of pain suddenly dividing us. Instead, I turned into the bedroom and went to the closet. The first thing I saw was the sparkling dress– the one Adam brought to me for our special night. The night that ended in tragedy. I never did get to know what was so special about that date. The metal of the dress’ hanger squeaked against the rod as I shoved it aside a bit too roughly and found a black sweater and pencil skirt.

Bobby always liked my pencil skirts.

When I came out Adam nodded at me before handing me the coffee. We left the apartment and as we turned we stopped, staring at Bobby’s door. My skin prickled, and I blinked my eyes to keep away the tears that threatened to make their presence known. Adam’s hand found mine, and he squeezed it. I glanced over at him, and he leaned to kiss my forehead. A small hint of heat warmed my body, but we remained quiet as we moved down the stairs, to the car and drove to the funeral parlor.

The parking lot was still empty, but what struck me most was the stark white house in front of us. I stared at the building as I tried to come to terms with the finality of what was before of us.

Bobby wasn’t coming home.

Adam’s head buckled to the steering wheel and his arms trembled against it. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“We have to.”

The truth was, I didn’t think
I
could either.

He shook his head as his knuckles turned white against the red leather. “River, I…just don’t think I can hold it together.”

“Who said you had to?” I asked, reaching forward and putting my hand on his elbow. I didn’t quite know how to comfort him. Touches like this seemed as hollow as my heart.

He looked up at me and swallowed. “I can’t show them any weakness.”

I knew how he felt, and I needed to do anything to fill this gap between us. I needed to make an effort to close it. I leaned my forehead against his, tangling my fingers in the back of his hair as he closed his eyes.

“This is for Bobby, not for them,” I said, reminding myself of them same. “We have to do this for Bobby.”

Adam nodded, cupping my face with his hands as his eyes fluttered open. “For Bobby.”

~~~

The hours of the wake slid by slowly and not a word was exchanged between Adam and his parents; not even once everyone left and calling hours ended. Adam and I stood in front of the casket, numb from the day’s events before he nodded at his parents, placed his hand on my back and guided me towards the door. I felt the tension in my muscles releasing as we reached the door, but I knew it wasn’t right. The blowout at Thanksgiving over our matching tattoos, then not being invited to Christmas or New Year’s seemed petty compared to the gravity of what our families were now facing.

“You’re not going to say anything to them?” I asked under my breath as he moved to open the door for me.

“There’s nothing to say,” he replied with his tone hard.

“Adam!”

He shook his head once and nodded outside. When I didn’t move, he lowered his head saying, “You didn’t speak to your mom, did you?”

He was right, and my cheeks burned as I moved out the door he held open for me. We walked feet apart, and when we got into the car, I sank into the seat, crossing my arms.

“Please,” Adam said as he started the car; “don’t be mad at me.”

I heaved a sigh, rubbing my forehead before replying, “I’m not.”

“Then why are you sitting there like that?”

 I sank deeper into the seat, closing my eyes. “Because today sucked. Every day this year has sucked, and I don’t see it getting any better.”

I heard Adam breathe in deeply, and my stomach sank at my sharp response. I slipped my hand into his as he drove, but the fissure was still there.