Broken Pieces (20 page)

I try to sound strong, “I know I can handle it.” Can I?

He goes to make some coffee, giving me time to get ready. In ten minutes, I somehow manage to get my hair under control, my shoes on, and do bathroom duties. I make my way into the kitchen, where I find Drew staring off into space. He’s holding hot coffee so I don’t want to startle him too much. I softly say, “Hey, I’m ready.”

He composes himself. “Okay, do you want coffee?”

I nod and he starts to make mine in a travel mug. He knows exactly how I like it. I try to tell him I can make it, but he insists. I hope he does not try to put the façade on like everything is fine because I know it is bothering him.

He acts like a robot the whole way there. When we get inside the police station, we are taken to a Detective Parker. He looks to be in his late fifties. What he has left of his silver hair is combed over. When he stands, he has to be at least 6’2”. Drew is exactly 6’ and he has a few inches on him, although Drew has more build.

Drew puts a stoic face as he greets us. I sit silently, wringing my hands in my lap as the detective goes through the usual questions “When was the last time you saw or spoke to your mother?”, etcetera.

At some point during the questioning, Drew places his hands over mine to stop my twisting hands. I zoned out of the entire interview, only speaking to tell the detective that I had only met her once. I also account for our whereabouts last night.

It continues for another hour. Lastly, the detective says that we can finish another time; we need to go identify her at the morgue. I am at a loss on that one. They know who she is. Why does he have to identify her? I know I just feel that way because I am terrified for Drew to see her like that.

He doesn’t speak on the car ride over, just holds my hand and squeezes every once in a while. From my schooling, I know that there are stages to mourning. Drew is acting fine now, but he will break eventually. I just know that I have to be here for him when he does.

When we arrive, he tries to talk me out of going in with him. I tell him I am here for him. He eventually caves and I find myself standing here, staring at the body of the person that brought this amazing man into the world. She lies there lifelessly. She looks the same as when I saw her last … dirty fingernails, ratty clothes, very pale. Now, her face is sunken in more, and she looks like she has lost forty pounds. There are two holes in her tight shirt that I am assuming are from bullets.

I look up to Drew. He has not let go of my hand the whole time. With a tense jaw, he nods at the mortician, who covers her, and he turns and heads for the doors, dragging me along.

The rest of the day goes by in a fog. He calls the funeral home, then makes the very few calls to family to break the news. I made some lunch, even though he refused to eat it and said he was not hungry. I tried to let him have his space to let it sink in, but I don’t think that is helping.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” I sit beside him on the couch.

He stays quiet for a while, staring at the wall. “I refused to help her,” he solemnly says.

I’m shocked. He thinks it is his fault because he blew her off for my graduation last night.

“It is
not
your fault! I didn’t know her, but I do know she chose this life. Whether you went last night or not, I believe there are reasons for why things happen the way they do. We just may not agree with it sometimes.”

He just nods so I continue, “I know you helped her multiple times. You did all you could. You can’t help someone that does not want to help themselves.”

He pulls me onto his lap and just holds me. “Thank-you,” he whispers.

“It is what I am here for. I am here for you. Always.” I kiss his forehead as he lays it on my chest, and I cradle him in my arms.

He did end up breaking down that night; he wept for the mother he lost, and the mother he never had the chance to have. He shared stories about his past. How he would come home at the timid age of seven and find her so drunk that he would have to fend for himself for dinner and for bed. She had stuck to drinking until he was in high school, then she found harder stuff. That is when he started fighting the drug dealing boyfriends of hers.

That was the first time I ever had to help plan a funeral, and I hope to never have to do it again anytime soon. Today is the day that the love of my life will bury his mother. My only goal I have is to be here for Drew in every way and through everything. I called Paula and told her what happened. She was happy to give me a few days off. He has been through so much that he deserves some good in his life, and I hope I am the one to give it to him.

He finds me standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom. I went and bought a new black dress with three-quarter length sleeves. Although, I know I will still freeze. It has a fitted skirt that I have paired with plain black heels and black stockings.

He is immaculately dressed in solid black dress pants and white shirt that he put a black jacket over. I know I shouldn’t be thinking like this right now but, damn, he looks good. “You look beautiful as always, baby.” He kisses the side of my head, as I meet his mournful eyes in the mirror.

I give him a half-smile. “I’ll be right out.”

He nods, leaving me standing here, wondering if I am strong enough to be here for him at this time. I am broken in so many ways, and he is the only reason I have not broken entirely down. Now that I have to be the strong one, I am apprehensive if I can.

“I have to be,” I say in the mirror. I breathe in and blow it out. It does not matter if I am ready or not. It’s time.

Drew opted for a graveside service, and my coat isn’t protecting me against the wind at all. It is the normal set up … those green tents with chairs, covered in more green, lined symmetrically underneath. He told me to choose the casket and flowers, considering that there was no one else besides him to do it. How do you choose something personal for somebody you did not know personally? I chose a pale pink with silver handles for her casket, and an arrangement of pink lilies with white roses. The setup is as beautiful as a rainbow on a rainy day.

I am not paying much attention to the scenery. My eyes are focused on one single rip in the green artificial carpet they laid down to cover the ground. It looks like someone’s heel punctured it at one time or another. I am present and absent at the same time. I feel horrendous about not being able to take the pain from him during this time. It feels as though there should be something I could do to help him, but he assures me there isn’t.

Not a moment too soon, the preacher announces a prayer to end the service. Afterward, we stand and Drew is greeted by distant family and friends. He introduces me to his mother’s cousin, I think. I’m not sure, everything is a blur. Drew says he would like to introduce me to one of his friends and the guy he told me about helping him at the center. That is when I hear the last voice I ever expected to hear.

I turn in the hope that I heard wrong. There is no possible way that HE could be here. Drew places one hand at the small of my back and the other gesturing to his friend. Oh, my god. “Kara, I would like for you to meet Jeremy.”

When my eyes come into contact with HIS, I gasp. I can’t breathe. Please tell me this is not happening. I think I may be sick. I can feel my world crashing down around me. I’m pretty sure I am supposed to be saying “Hello” to Drew’s friend, but this is the person I never wanted to see again. How am I ever going to tell Drew that his friend, the one he thinks so highly of, is the person that … I can’t even say it? I guess this proves I am not over it.

When it registers to HIM who I am, he smirks. “Hello, Kara.”

“Baby, are you okay?” Drew asks, concerned.

I snap out of it. “Um … yes, I’m okay. Hello …” I can’t spit his name out of my mouth.

Please don’t reach to shake my hand. Please don’t! He extends his hand; I really think I’m going to be sick. “I’m sorry, Drew. I’m going to the car. I’m suddenly not feeling well,” I spat and walk off.

Why, out of all the guys, out of all the towns, out of all the fucking funerals?! What did I do to deserve this? No, I can’t cry. Drew will know something is wrong when he comes to check on me in a minute, which I know he will. I should have composed myself better. I do not want him to find out. It’s not fair to him to lose what I guess he would call a “good friend”.

I am rushing, as fast as I can in heels, back to Drew’s car. The chilly air is not helping the tears that are already pricking in my eyes. I hug my coat to cover me more, or maybe I want it to make me disappear. I almost make it to his car when a rock causes me to stumble. This obviously is not my day. Then warm hands swiftly capture me, keeping me from face-planting onto the concrete.

I jump back, trying to get out of the hold when I hear his voice. “Karaline?!” I instantly melt into him.

He says nothing more, just holds onto me. I manage to compose myself. “I’m just going to call Lauren to come pick me up so you can stay and visit. I will call you later, okay?”

“We can leave now if you’re not feeling well,” he argues.

“No, you stay. There is family that you haven’t seen in forever. I will be okay.” I try to make my voice not waiver, but fail.

He turns to look behind him, then back at me. “Okay, if you are sure you’re going to be okay?”

I give him a flat smile and nod. I get my phone out and wave him off. I walk along the narrow paved road that runs through the cemetery, hearing the crunch of each distancing step. Drew is intently gazing at me so I wave and smile as best as I can. I turn away and dial the first person that comes to mind, and it is not Lauren. I can’t handle the questionnaire she will have for me right now.

He answers on the second ring, “Kar? Are you okay?” I immediately relax, as the familiar voice comes through.

“Can you do me a favor?” I say timidly.

His responds without delay. “Of course.”

I instruct Kace to drive to my apartment and retrieve my car, then tell him where I am at. Questions about why will be answered later. I knew what would happen if Drew saw his car arrive to get me instead of mine or Lauren’s. He appears not even ten minutes later. I quickly hop in the car, hoping Drew can’t see who is driving through the tint.

“Take me far away from here,” I tell him, as I physically relax into the seats in my car. The familiar smell is comforting.

He asks me if I want to go back to my apartment. I gave him a deranged look. I replied, “He knows where I live; he doesn’t know where
you
live.”

He signals with his head that he understands. Kace has always understood me. He knows I need silence and to be away from Drew for a bit. Before Drew, he was the only person that remotely knew anything about my past. He never asked questions. He said him being here for me was more important than details. That never kept him from trying to pry, though.

We arrive at the townhouse where he lives with two of his band members. It is a quaint little place, two story brick with a two-car garage. By looking at the outside, you would never guess that a bunch of rockers live here.

He parks in the driveway, and we get out to make our way inside without a word. We walk in the front door and are greeted by the sounds of “Rock Band”. His roommates have friends over. This is definitely a bachelor pad. There are pizza boxes and beer bottles strewn all over the living room. The stench reminds me of boy’s locker room … foul. The rest of the room is bare, with nothing on the walls. I can just imagine what those inky leather couches have been through. I scrunch my nose in disgust, and look over at Kace. He shrugs his shoulders in apology and gestures up the stairs. The guys never even notice us.

When I step into his room, I am taken back. From seeing the rest of the house, I expected his room to be the same. He takes care of his space better than his roommates. I also expected rock posters scattered across his walls, and black everything. Instead, I see taupe walls with a massive four poster mahogany-colored bed in the center of the room. There are deep burgundy curtains that match the bedspread. One wall is covered in exquisite guitars; the other wall has two doors that frame a flat screen TV.