Fragmented (17 page)

Raleigh smiled up at me from the bottom of the staircase. I had no idea where she’d been hiding a board game. “What?” she said with feigned innocence. “I was five years old once.”

Half a dozen rounds of Candy Land and a large pepperoni pizza later, Sasha’s head had become too heavy for her body. Her eyes fluttered closed and her head drooped forward with fatigue.

“Bedtime for bonzos,” I announced. “C’mon, Sash. Pajama time.”

She mumbled something incoherent, no doubt a protest that she wasn’t really tired.

“Do you need help with her?” Raleigh asked.

I didn’t want to point out the giant staircase that led to Sasha’s second floor bedroom. I had a feeling that Raleigh would see it as a challenge and would drag herself and her chair upstairs to prove me wrong.

“No, I’ve got this. It won’t take long.”

I hefted Sasha onto my hip and ascended the stairs to her room. Her skinny arms and legs hung limply at her sides as I carefully climbed one step after another.

It took me a little longer than usual to brush a sleepy kindergartener’s teeth and get her into pajamas and bed, but Sasha did it all without complaint.

Downstairs, Raleigh was picking up the game pieces and cleaning up the paper plates and napkins from dinner.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, stepping off the final step.

“I like to pull my weight,” she dismissed.

“That was a good move with Candy Land,” I observed. “I should probably buy my own game now. I know Sasha’s going to bug me about it.”

“Or keep dragging me along,” Raleigh suggested.

“If I did that, Sasha would like you better than me in no time.”

“Hardly. You’re really good with her. Do you want kids someday?”

“Maybe.” Raleigh couldn’t have known the heaviness of her question. Any hypothetical child of mine had a greater chance at developing schizophrenia later in life than any other child. I liked kids, and if not for my genetics I probably would have wanted a couple, but I couldn’t do that. It felt too selfish.

“So what are you in the mood for?”

I blinked and shook my head, rousing myself from dreary thoughts.

Raleigh pulled a small stack DVDs out of her bag. “I brought a few movies.”

“I don’t suppose you have any non-horror films in there.”

Her grin was all the answer I needed.

I made microwave popcorn while Raleigh set up the movie in the family room. I frowned when I walked into the den. The Henderson’s L-shaped couch dominated the room. There wasn’t much space for Raleigh to maneuver her chair around, and I didn’t know what that meant for watching a movie.

“How do we … where do you want to sit?”

“I was hoping on the couch, next to you.”

“What do you need me to do?”

She nudged her chair into the round coffee table in her way. “If you move that, I can do the rest.”

I put the popcorn on the coffee table and dragged the furniture out of the way to make room for her chair. She followed in behind me and positioned her chair adjacent to the leather couch. I watched as she set the locks on her chair to stabilize herself and moved her hips to the front of the wheelchair. She placed one hand on the couch and the other on the seat of her wheelchair. Her triceps flexed beneath the material of her fitted cardigan as she used her arms to lift her backside over the edge of the wheelchair and transitioned smoothly onto the couch cushion. She’d successfully transitioned from her chair to the couch in no time at all; I was in awe of her adaptability.

I felt like the feat deserved a standing ovation, but I resisted my idiotic urges. “Do you need something to drink?” I asked instead.

“No, thank you.”

“Are you warm enough? Do you need a blanket or anything?”

“I’m fine.” She patted the empty space beside her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you didn’t want to watch this scary movie.”

I plopped down on the couch. “Do your worst,” I challenged.

On the television, a blonde in a wet T-shirt tried to hide from a leather-masked cannibal in a dilapidated barn. But in the Henderson’s living room, I was more focused on the blonde sitting beside me.
I knew what I would do if Raleigh had been like other girls I’d dated. I’d be on my knees in front of her and her skirt would be bunched up at her hips. But with Raleigh, I couldn’t even muster the courage to hold her hand despite how much I wanted to touch her. I alternated between glancing at the action on the screen and staring wistfully at her hands.

I jumped when the masked serial killer turned on his chainsaw. We had the volume turned low, mindful of Sasha sleeping upstairs, but the noise had still startled me.

I heard Raleigh’s low chuckle.

“Don’t tease me,” I mumbled. My face felt hot with embarrassment.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Her hand rested on top of mine, and even though only her fingers touched mine, I felt it all over my body.

I fiddled with her fingers, our hands now conjoined on her lap. Her fingernails were short and manicured, and despite the punishment of the wheels of her chair, the skin was soft. I couldn’t get over how well we seemed to
fit
together.

+ + +

I had an extra bounce in my step Monday morning on my walk to get coffee before class. I probably didn’t even need the extra jolt of caffeine. Babysitting with Raleigh on Saturday had gone better than expected. We still hadn’t kissed, but I was enjoying the slow burn. It brought me back to my junior high years when the simple act of holding hands brought butterflies to my stomach.

While I waited for the barista to finish making my drink, I scanned over the text messages we had sent back and forth the previous day. My coffee was set on the counter, and I grabbed it without looking up from my phone. Too lost in thought, I crashed into the person standing too closely behind me, nearly spilling my coffee down the front of my shirt.

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” I said, catching myself from completely falling over. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Harper!” the girl whom I’d run into exclaimed.

I looked up. “Jenn?”

A pleased grin spread across my ex-girlfriend’s face. “Wow. Small world.”

“It would seem so.” The coffee shop was right around the corner from my apartment and I frequented it often, but Jenn lived over ten miles away in Lincoln Park. I wondered at the coincidence, but didn’t dwell on it.

She shifted the strap of her messenger bag from one shoulder to the other. It looked to be bulging with a cumbersome weight, probably library books. “How are you? How’s your semester going?”

“Uh, it’s going well. How about yours?” I managed to politely return despite the disorientation of seeing my ex-girlfriend in my neighborhood.

She groaned and then launched into a soliloquy about a professor she was convinced didn’t like her and was out to mess with her GPA. Honestly, I zoned out after a while.

“Hey, would you minding watching my bag for me? I’ve gotta pee.”

My eyebrows knit together. “Yeah, sure.”

She dropped her backpack to the ground. It sounded like it weighed a hundred pounds. “Thanks.”

Jenn hustled off in the direction of the bathroom while I babysat her bag and tried to not feel so blindsided. I hadn’t spoken to or seen her since she’d broken up with me in a text message. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it had only been a few weeks.

Hidden inside of Jenn’s bag, I heard her distinctive ringtone. It was the kind that sounded like a real phone, and before I’d met Jenn I’d thought that only old people unaccustomed to technology used it. The phone continued to ring obnoxiously, and I sensed the eyes of a number of coffee shop patrons on me as it continued to blare unanswered from inside her bag.

I stooped down and dug around inside the front pocket of her backpack. I found the offending noise, but it wasn’t coming from Jenn’s regular phone. The device continued to ring with the reception of a number that wasn’t programmed into her contacts. I silenced the call, but didn’t immediately return the phone to Jenn’s bag.

The longer I stared at the new phone with its familiar ring tone and protective case, the more my paranoia began to set in. It was a different phone, but that didn’t mean she’d gotten a new number, and it was even more of a stretch to think that my ex-girlfriend had been the person who’d sent the vaguely threatening text and e-mail with the pumpkin from Harvest Fest.

I glanced in the direction of the bathroom. Jenn hadn’t been gone long, but unless she was flossing, she would be back soon. Not giving myself time to think about it, I typed in her four number passcode to get past the locked screen. I pulled up her most recent text conversations, but found nothing suspicious except that Jenn was now flirting with multiple girls. I couldn’t exactly be offended though; it’s not like I hadn’t moved on at warp speed either.

I didn’t have time to pull up her phone’s settings and see if she’d gotten a new phone number before the public bathroom door opened and Jenn stepped out. I pretended to be tying my shoes and slipped the phone back into the front pocket of her bag.

“Hey.”

I looked up from my boots, sure she’d caught me. “Yeah?”

Jenn breathed out deeply. “I’m sorry I was such a chicken shit and texted instead of talking to you face to face.”

I assumed she was referring to the texts that had ended our relationship and wasn’t admitting to vaguely threatening e-mails about pumpkins and clowns. “And I’m sorry I was such a shitty girlfriend.”

She ducked her head. “You weren’t that bad.”

“But I wasn’t good, either,” I countered, standing up. I didn’t need it sugar-coated. I was able to admit that I hadn’t put my best effort into our relationship.

She gave me a crooked smile. “No hard feelings, right?”

“No, of course not.”

She grabbed the nylon strap and hefted her bag back onto her shoulder. “It was good seeing you, Harp.”

“You, too. Stay out of trouble, huh?”

Her blue eyes danced. “I can’t make any promises.”

+ + +

Raleigh was in her normal spot in anatomy class when I arrived on campus. “Good morning,” she cheerfully greeted.

“Hey,” I returned, sliding into my lab seat. The word came without emotion.

“Rough morning?” She sounded like sunshine and rainbows, and I was a raincloud.

I grunted, confirming her observation.

“Wow,” she chuckled. “Don’t poke the bear.”

I took another slug from my travel coffee mug. The energy I’d felt when I’d woken up had been sapped by my unexpected run-in with my ex-girlfriend. It had provided the closure all ending relationships required, but I hadn't had the time to put to rest my suspicion that she had something to do with the unsolicited text and e-mail. I didn't want to assume the worst about someone I had cared for, but I had a hard time trusting.

I flipped open my notes and reviewed the lecture from last class in case Professor Berry decided to surprise us with a quiz.

“Hey guys,” Andrew said, waving as he walked into the room.

“Good morning, Andrew,” Raleigh greeted.

He stopped in front of our lab table. “How was your weekend?” he asked. The question wasn’t directed at either of us specifically, but his brown-eyed gaze was trained on Raleigh.

“It was really nice, wasn’t it, Harper?”

“Huh?” I snapped to attention.

“Harper and I had a scary movie marathon on Saturday,” Raleigh continued, matter-of-factly.

“Oh yeah?” Andrew flashed a perfect smile to compliment his perfect dimples. “You don’t strike me as the scary movie type.”

Raleigh leaned forward and wet her lips. “No? What type of girl do you think I am?”

“Good morning, everyone,” Professor Berry bellowed as he stormed into the classroom. “I hope you all had a nice weekend.”

Andrew jerked his hand in a quick wave of parting before he hustled away to claim his usual seat.

“Is he single?” Raleigh asked quietly as Professor Berry began that day’s lecture.

“Andrew? I don’t know. Why?”

“Because if he’s not,” she whispered for only my ears, “I should tell his girlfriend what a shameless flirt he is. He was over the top after our midterm the other day.”

“He was flirting with you?” I squeaked out. I glanced in either direction to see if my quiet outburst had been noticed. No one was looking in our direction, however. They were all paying attention to what Dr. Berry was discussing—something I should have been doing as well.

Raleigh’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Why? Jealous?”

“Of Andrew? Of course not,” I huffed.
Yes. Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?

“Because if you are, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“I don’t?” I hated how my voice cracked on the syllables. I was a grown woman, not a prepubescent teen.

In lieu of a verbal response, Raleigh rested her hand on top of my knee and squeezed. My initial reaction was to jerk away, but her fingers curled tightly around my lower thigh and refused to be shaken off.