Broken Glass (22 page)

“How long before you were married?” I asked.

“Oh, it was about three years,” she answered. “After all, I had to go back to America and he lived in England. We corresponded through letters and short phone calls for the first year. Finally, in my second year of college, my grades were good enough that I could transfer to a university in England. And as soon as I finished school, we were married.”

“In England?”

“Yes, in England.”

“Is Conner your only child?”

“Yes.”

“He told me that he lived in London still.”

“Yes, well, we raised him there,” Julianne informed me.  “We decided to move to America when Conner was fifteen and he didn’t want to leave, so he staye
d behind with
my husband’s parents. He visited us every summer and now he’s staying a year with us before he goes off to start his life in the world.”

“Didn’t you miss him when he was in England?” I asked her.

“Oh, of course,” she replied. “But I don’t blame him for staying there. London really is a very lovely place. I’d love to go back and reside there one day.”

“Why’d you decide to come back to America?” I asked. A strange look crossed through her eyes then.

“Oh, well, you know,” she said, rather hesitantly. “Life takes you places…we’re about out of time for today, Ava, and I’ve got a lot of work to do, so I think I’ll call it quits for today.”

“Uh, all right,” I replied, puzzled at her abrupt uneasiness. I got up and walked to the door. I turned back to thank her for the nice chat, but she was already busying herself with menial tasks.

16
.

“I kissed Aurelia last night.”

I nearly tripped when Shakespeare said this. We were walking the paths outside and though the
November
air was freezing, it was refreshing not to be inside.

“Are you serious?” I asked him, my mouth dropping open. He grimaced.

“Unfortunately,” he sighed.

“Why?” I sputtered, still having trouble believing what he was admitting to me. He shrugged.

“Oh, I do
n’t know,” he answered. I’m mental,
I guess?” This caused me to laugh out loud.

“So you just needed a little kiss to cure that feeling?” I chuckled. His face turned a deep shade of red then.

“Wait a second,” I said, and stopped walking. “You did more than kiss her, didn’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” he smiled slightly, trying to avoid eye contact with me.

“Shakespeare!” I groaned.

“
That’s not the point
,” h
e replied, quietly.

I started laughing.

“Well, what is the point, then
?” I asked him. He shook his head.

“I’m a little embarrassed…
” he began to laugh, too.

“What were you thinking!” I exclaimed.

“I wasn’t,” he told me. “That was the problem.”

“How on earth did you end up in a situation where that was possible to happen anyway?” I asked him, starting to walk again.

“It was late,” he sighed. “And I was lonely. So I was wandering the halls and so was she. We just bumped into each other...one thing led to another...”

“Oh, I find that hard to belie
ve,” I rolled my eyes. “You despise
her, Shake.”

“Yeah, well,
despising her led to a stupid decision
,” he grinned. “
W
e ended up in her room and that was that.”

“Do you regret it?” I asked him.

“God, yes!”
he breathed. “Aurelia’s psychotic
! I’ve b
een avoiding her
all day! Who knows what she’ll do when she finds me. It’ll be like it was before with her.”

“I guess you gotta pay the consequences to your actions last night,” I pointe
d
out.
Shakespeare gave me a playful punch on my arm.

“Whatever,” he said. “I guess we’re both avoiding people today, then.”

“What are
you talking about?” I asked
, looking over at him quickly.

“Henry, duh,” he replied. “Ava, it’s obvious. What happened last night? Did you get
a little action, too?”

It was my turn to punch him in the arm. Only, I did it much harder.

“No way
,” I said. “We just...he said something and I was embarrassed...”

“Some of his philosophical shit, huh?” Shakespeare guessed. “Yeah, he can make you feel pretty small and stupid with that stuff.”

“He was right,” I admitted. “Everything I ever say or do or feel...it all comes back to Tyson. And Henry called me out on that. And he was right...and it’s sad. It’s really, really
sad
.”

Shakespeare didn’t say anything for a moment.

“You just need more time, that’s all,” Shakespeare gave me a small smile. “So what if it’s true? You just need a little more time to figure out how to stand up on your own again. What’s so wrong about that?”

“That’s the thing, though,” I
frowned. “What if I can’t do it?
I tried so hard last night, after Henry had left my room, to remember my life. To remember everything before Tyson...and I-I just couldn’t do it, Shakespeare. I just couldn’t remember a damn thing. I’m afraid I’ll never be able to remember.”

“You will,” Shakespeare said. “You just need a spark. Something to set off that part of your brain...of your heart...then you’ll remember.”

“And what if I don’t find that spark?” I asked him, softly. He stopped walking and faced me.

“Then you’ll make new memories,” he said
, firmly
. “I promise you will. You’ve already started. With me, out here, right now. This convers
ation, this walk, this moment—
you’ll never be here again. It will be just a picture in your head. But it’ll be something you did...something you said after Tyson wasn’t in your life anymore.”

I nodded, wondering if he was right. If I could have that small hope that I could live somewhat of a normal life again without Tyson.

“Ava, I didn’t want to be with Aurelia last night,” Shakespeare said suddenly, and his dark eyes met mine. “When I was wandering down the hall, I wasn’t really wandering. I knew where I was going.”

“What are you saying?” I asked him, confused. “Where were you going?”

Being with someone
allows me to forget about all the crap in my life, Ava,” he told me. “It allows me to feel something and temporarily forget where I am and why I’m here. I was going to your room.”

I just stared at him.

“But, why?” I asked. He looked away.

“I just wanted to be with you last night,” he said quietly. “
And it wasn’t necessarily to be physical.
I didn’t know if that would happen or not. I just wanted to be with you. To hold you. To smell your hair. To do anything but talk.”

I was speechless. I hadn’t seen this coming. What did this mean? Why me? What was he trying to say?

“I-I think you’re beautiful, Ava,” he went on, still not looking at me. “And you’ve got a beautiful heart. A-and I was an asshole before I came here. While you try to remember your life before, I just want to forget mine. There is so much goodness in you and you’re hurting as much as I am here. I just wanted to be with you...so you would know you’re not alone...so I would know
I’m
not alone.”

So there it was. He was just a boy and I was just a girl. We were in the same painful place and all he’d wanted was a temporary way out. Why was that so bad? Maybe that’s what I needed, too.

“Come on,” I said, extending my hand to him. He finally looked at me and I could see he was confused at my reaction. He took my hand and I led him back inside, to my room.

“What are you doing, Ava?” he asked, once I’d closed the door to my room. I walked past him, over to my bed.

“Come over here, Shake,” I said, gently. He did,
with a puzzled look in his
eyes.

“Ava, I’m sorry about
—
” he began, but I shushed him.

“Lay down,” I said and he did.

“Scoot over,” I directed him, with a small giggle.

“What is this?” he asked me, smiling slightly. I lay down beside him and we both stared up at the ceiling. I reached down and grasped his hand in mine. I squeezed it. He squeezed back.

“I’m scared that I’m already dead inside and that I’ll never be okay,” I whispered then. A tear rolled down my cheek.

“Yeah,” Shakespeare whispered back. “Yeah, me, too.” 

I was crying now.

“You know I don’t look at you in the way you want me to,” I whispered through my sobs. “I never will.”

“I know,” came his quiet reply. “I know that.”

“Temporarily forgetting
why we’re here
won’t
help,” I sniffed. “It’ll only
make it all worse, you know?”

“Yeah,” Shakespeare’s voice quivered, and he squeezed my hand. “I know.”

17
.

“Still avoiding Aurelia?” I asked Shakespeare the following day at breakfast. He grinned.

“Still avoiding Henry?” He shot back.

“Until just now,” I said and I smiled at Henry as he sat down with us.

“Hey,” I said to him, almost too politely. He smiled back.

“Hi
,
you,” he said. “Have you two seen these eggs this morning? Disgusting.”

I couldn’t help but smile again. Things were okay.

I saw Aurelia walk into the activities room then. Her hair was now a bright shade of yellow. She looked
tired, and definitely not her usual mischievous
self. She glanced over at our table and saw Shakespeare. She made a face and began to march quickly over towards our table.

“
Uh oh,” I hissed. “Shake, Aurelia, three
o
’
clock.”

“Wha
—
?” he began, but he was too late.

“You’re not Sam,” Aurelia said to him flatly, as if Henry and I weren’t there.

“What?” Shakespeare turned to look at her. She looked especially like a crazy person this morning.

“You’re not Sam,” she repeate
d. “Don’t think what happened the other night
is going to become a regular thing. I love Sam and he loves me and we’re going to be together. He wrote me a letter.”

“Um, okay,” Shakespeare shook his head. “Good for you...and Sam.”

“I’m serious,” she wagged her finger in his
face. “
Sam and I, we’re in love. And you and me...we don’t work.”  And then she was gone. The three of us just stared at each other for a moment.

“Oh, by the way, I was with
Aurelia the other night,” Shakespeare informed Henry then. Henry laughed.

“I know, she told me,” he replied.

“Was that weird?” Shakespeare asked. “Like, beyond the normal weird?”

“Definitely,” I agreed, taking a bite of my gross eggs.

“Sam wrote her a letter,” Henry said. “Really, he did. Said he missed her, wanted to be with her, yada, yada, yada...”

“I thought he got married,” Shakespeare frowned. “Or did I miss something.”

“He did,” Henry said. “Apparently, she left him because he was...I dunno...crazy.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“No kidding,” I replied.

“What’s he up to?” Shakespeare questioned.

“I dunno,” Henry sighed. “No good, as usual. He’s just playing with her. I just don’t know what for. What’s he got to gain for it this time?”

“It’s like we’re in this t
wisted episode of some bad soap opera
,” I spoke up. “It all just keeps getting weirder and weirder.”

“Good to have a little outside world drama, though,” Shakespeare said. “It gets boring.”

“Not always,” I smiled at him. He smiled back.

“Yeah, not always,” he replied. Henry looked at us.

“What, did you have sex with
her
, too?” he asked, nodding at me. I shot him a look and Shakespeare laughed.

“I’m not that lucky,” Shakespeare said, giving me a wink. 

“Shut up!” I
blushed. “You guys are ridiculous.
”

“No,” Henry corrected. “We’re mentally insane.”