Fragmented (21 page)

“I’ve been told—or warned I suppose—all my life about an illness that preys on the women in my family,” I started. These were words that had lived inside of my head for years, but I’d never shared them aloud. “I don't know how far back it goes, but I know that my mother is sick and so was her aunt, my Great-Aunt Sara. And before them it was my Great-Grandma Bethany. All of them were eventually diagnosed with schizophrenia.”

I chewed on my lower lip and let the words settle around us before I continued. “My parents separated when I was really little. I don’t know if it was because my mom was starting to lose touch with reality or if my father leaving was the catalyst for her madness. At first we thought it was depression. She stopped caring about her appearance, she had a hard time getting out of bed, and she rarely showered. I was just starting school, so that was more on my radar at the time, but I remember my brother Damien helping me get ready for school in the mornings because my mom wouldn’t get out of bed. At the end of the school day, the bus would take me home where I’d discover that she had never gotten out of bed.”

I paused to take a sip of water. Our lunches sat on the table, steaming in their oversized bowls still untouched.

“When I was about nine, Damien had had enough,” I continued. “Not showering was something he could live with, but her illness had progressed. She couldn’t follow through with basic tasks because her brain was essentially misfiring. I thought she was just sad all the time, and I’d do little things that I thought would make her happy.”

I paused and my sad smile wavered under the weight of memories. “But Damien knew better. He was older than me, and in the absence of my father, he called social services on my mom.” I sucked in a breath. “Usually when that happens they take the children away; in our case, they took my mom away.”

Raleigh was silent across the table. Maybe she had underestimated the severity of my mother’s illness and was starting to second-guess insisting on this lunch. “But that doesn’t automatically mean you’re doomed, too, does it?” She was grasping for any shred of hope.

“I’m starting to have thoughts that I’m being watched—someone’s been harassing me. I keep seeing the same car in my neighborhood and I’ve been getting really weird text messages. And someone broke into my apartment the other day and messed with my stuff.”

Raleigh leaned forward. Her hand inched across the table until the tips of her fingers brushed against mine. “And you think that’s . . .”

I barked out a laugh. “Either I’m going crazy or I’m being stalked.”

“That’s not funny, Harper.”

The forced grin fell away. “I know.”

“You should talk to someone.”

“The police or a psychiatrist?” I snapped. I audibly swallowed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Your accent,” Raleigh said softly, “I finally hear it.”

“And I didn’t even need a beer.” I grabbed a paper napkin and pressed it to my eyes. I could feel the tears coming, but I wouldn’t let myself cry in public, even if we were only one of two couples at the restaurant. “I really can’t talk about this here. Is it okay if we get this to go?”

I focused on a spot just beyond Raleigh’s right ear. I couldn’t look at her and see the pity I was sure I’d find in her eyes.

“Yeah, okay.”

We sat in silence while we waited for our waitress to reappear. I toyed with the chopsticks at my table setting, still wrapped in a cloth napkin. “I’m not worth the trouble, Raleigh.”

“Why would anyone want to go to the trouble of dating someone in a wheelchair?”

“Because you’re beautiful,” I said without filter.

The compliment seemed to go over her head. “I’m sure most people would rather date someone without the hassle of calling a movie theater ahead of time to make sure there’s wheelchair accessible seating or calling a restaurant to see if I can even get my chair inside.”

“That’s just logistics.” It felt like apples and oranges to me, but she didn’t seem to see it that way.

“I can’t accidentally brush my leg against someone underneath a table. Well, I might,” she retracted with a sardonic chuckle, “but I’d have no idea I was even doing it.”

“There’s a high chance I’ll lose my mind.”

“There’s a high chance I’ll never regain the use of my legs,” she countered.

“That’s different.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s just your legs.”

“And it’s just a small part of your brain, which with medication can be under control,” she stubbornly reasoned, “plus it’s not even like you’re definitely going to get sick. Me, on the other hand, we already know I’m damaged goods.”

“Don’t say that about yourself. You’re only going to get better. I’m only going to get worse.”

“
Maybe
you’ll get worse. I think it’s unfair to both of us if you preemptively stop anything from happening between us.” She paused to lick her lips. “I like you, Harper.”

“I like you too, Raleigh. A lot.”

She smiled at me, warm like the sun’s rays. That smile could make me forget about just about anything. “Then give us a chance,” she urged. “After what we’ve both had to go through, I think we deserve a little happiness.”

I thought about the pumpkin. I thought about the pills in my medicine cabinet. I thought about the red car. I thought about Ruby. “You know this is the worst possible timing for this.”

She smiled serenely. “I know.”

I took a deep breath. This could only end badly. “Okay.”

Our waitress still hadn’t re-appeared with the check or containers for our uneaten lunch. It was either the worst customer service in the city or she had sensed we needed space to work things out.

“We should do something this weekend,” Raleigh suggested.
“Something’s that’s not studying at my aunt’s house or babysitting Sasha.”

“Like what?”

“How about dinner Saturday night?”

“I can do that,” I agreed, slowly nodding. “Do you have a preference?”

“Not really.”

“I know a great little Italian restaurant. They have the most amazing stuffed gnocchi, and on Saturday nights there’s live jazz.”

“That sounds amazing.”

“Great,” I smiled at the plan. “What time do you want me to pick you up?”

“Don’t.” I opened my mouth to challenge her, but she kept going. “I want to meet you at the restaurant.”

“But how are you going to get there?” I knew she was still nervous about taking public transportation in her chair, and I doubted her aunt would drive her into the city on a Saturday night.

“Let me worry about that, okay? Just text me the address.”

She leaned across the table and, without thinking, I met her halfway until our lips pressed together. We weren’t kissing in the middle of Millennium Park or on the subway during rush hour, but it was progress for me.

She tasted like sweet tea, and I ran my thumb across her cheekbone to deepen the kiss. If I grabbed onto her hip I knew I’d have her bucking beneath my hold, but with the table between us, there was little I could do beyond caress the side of her face. I was sure she’d only been expecting a quick peck, but when my tongue flicked against the cleft of her lower lip, her mouth parted, and I swallowed the groan that followed.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, looking flushed and uncharacteristically flustered. She fanned herself with a hand, but it did nothing to tame the blush that had crept up her breastbone. “I guess pho turns me on.”

I grinned and licked my lips, still tasting her on them. “Uh huh.”

She cleared her throat and seemed to reign in her emotions with the action. “So I’ll see you Saturday night at eight?”

“I’ll be there.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I was running late. Naturally. I couldn’t decide what to wear, the matching shoe from my favorite pair of boots was missing, and my hair was being stubborn. I would have preferred to save some money by taking the L up to the River West neighborhood where I was meeting Raleigh for dinner, but time was not on my side.

The sun had set hours ago, but downtown was alive with lights. I ran my hands over the tops of my jeans in the back of the taxi. I was nervous and I kept looking at the time on the driver’s car radio. I couldn’t be late for this. Raleigh and I had hung out numerous times, but this was a date. We’d named it thus, giving it power and authority and importance over two friends meeting up to share a meal.

The taxi dropped me off in front of the restaurant only a few minutes after 8:00 p.m. I paid the driver and rushed inside even though I would have liked a moment to gather my thoughts and think about how I would greet Raleigh when I saw her.

Inside the restaurant the lighting was dim, but it was darker outside so I didn’t need to wait for my eyes to adjust. I scanned the seated patrons beyond the hostess stand, looking for the one familiar face in a sea of strangers.

“Good evening,” the woman behind the front podium greeted. “How many in your party?”

“Two,” I said, still searching for Raleigh. “I’m not sure if she’s already here though.”

The person in charge of filling water glasses stepped to one side, and I was afforded a view of my date for the evening.

Raleigh looked over the top of her menu and our eyes locked. The corners of her light pink lips curled up and widened into a broad smile.

She wore a sleeveless lilac colored dress that left her shoulders bare. The front dipped in a demure v-cut that made my imagination run wild. Her hair was down and parted to one side and styled in lazy finger curls. She looked like she’d come straight out of a black and white movie. I was underdressed in my fitted flannel shirt, skinny jeans, and boots. The contents of my wardrobe were spilled all over my apartment as evidence of my anxiety over this date.

“Wow. You look amazing,” I said, walking up to the table.

I felt momentarily awkward, not knowing how to greet her because of the wheelchair. I couldn’t crouch down to her level like I did when Sasha needed her shoes tied, and I didn’t want to lean across her like I was going to smother her with my breasts. I could kiss her hand, but I wasn’t courting her in the nineteenth century.

I decided to swoop low and give her a passing kiss on the cheek. I must have chosen correctly because I felt her lean into the lingering brush of my lips against her smooth cheek, and her skin tightened into an apple-cheeked smile.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” I apologized, taking the empty seat across from her.

“I just got here myself. They seated me right away so I didn’t have to hang out in the bar area,” she smiled. “Sometimes my chair has its advantages.”

I unrolled my cloth napkin and set it on my lap. “How did you get here?”

“Isn’t a girl allowed to have her secrets?” she teased.

I had too many. Raleigh picked up her menu and began to scan its offerings. “My aunt drove me to the Blue Line and I took the train in,” she revealed.

“Your aunt drove you? What excuse did you give her?”

“I told her I was having dinner with you.”

“And she drove all that way just so you could eat?” I asked, incredulous that she’d told her aunt the truth.

“She apparently likes you; she said she’s happy I’ve made such a nice friend.”

My stomach dropped at the word.
Friend
. It left a sour taste in my mouth.

“Plus, I think she still feels guilty for refusing to drive me to school that one day. Either way, I’m not going to question her motives,” she shrugged.

“How was the train?” I leaned forward. I knew she’d been nervous about navigating public transportation in her wheelchair.

“It wasn’t as scary as I thought it was going to be. They pulled out a ramp for me so I could get on the train, there was a big enough space for my chair to go, and the driver remembered which stop I was getting off at.”

“That’s great, Raleigh. I’m really glad it went okay for you.”

She nodded in agreement.

“So what looks good?” I asked, scanning the menu.

“I was looking at the chicken walnut salad.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Do you really want to order a salad, or are you being a girl?”

“I can’t eat like I used to. It’s not like I can gorge myself and then go for a run.”

“I suppose not.”

The more time we spent together, the more I was reminded of how much I took my spinal cord for granted. Standing up, sitting on lab stools, going for a run—these were things I never thought much about. It was ironic, really, the two of us. We were both damaged, but my eventual illness was an invisible disability. Maybe this was supposed to happen. Maybe we were supposed to help each other survive.