Broken (5 page)

I was now facing the mirror in my apartment again, earrings in
hand.

I looked at my skin and clothes. I wasn’t glowing, and my
skin was now its usual pale complexion. And I was solid.

“Oh my god,” I said. “I’m not
dead.”

What kind of screwball trip was that?

I braced myself against the wall. I had just witnessed my
father’s death, or what I’d imagined was my father’s
death.

“I’m falling apart,” I muttered.

My mind was suddenly laden with a heavy feeling. There was no
way I could absorb any more, or process what the hell had just
happened. That little trip, or whatever it was, had sucked
everything out of me.

I put the earrings on the coffee table and climbed into bed.

Again, I turned off.

When I woke the next morning, my head throbbed.

I groaned and hauled my rear end out of bed. Another hot shower
was in tall order. This time I forced myself not to think about all
the shit that was going on. I just listened to the water run and
any time thoughts came — of Chris, or earrings, or my
parents, or Chris, or the death of my father, or Geoff, or diaries,
or little green men, or Chris, or needing to double my meds —
I bunched them up into a little ball and shoved them deep down into
some dark abyss where I wouldn’t think about them.

That was until I was dressed and stepped out into the living
room where the little green man was waiting for me. He was
motioning for me to put the earrings on again.

“I don’t think so,” I said. I grabbed my
runners and keys, then I slipped out the door. It was time for
rugby practice.

I decided to jog to the park. If I walked, I might look at the
trees and shrubs, where I would likely find other little people
waving at me, or motioning for me to wear earrings.

Sure enough, one quick glance to the old weeping willow across
the street confirmed my suspicions. Three little winged things were
trying to get my attention.

I wondered if I should have called Dr. White first.

I kept running, looking down at the pavement, the cars, the
streetlamps, anything that wasn’t verdant and lush. Thank
goodness I lived in the city. If I thought I was losing my mind
here, out in the country it would have been a one way ticket to
Looneyville. As a child, I’d almost gone there,
permanently.

A few thoughts crept into my mind as I ran. I tried to flick
them away, but they were insistent on being pondered. The biggest
one was the little trip I had taken. It had to have been a bad mix of
something that triggered that, or maybe withdrawal from my meds.
Putting on a pair of earrings doesn’t take one down memory
lane, especially when a figment of my imagination told me to put
them on. How could I possibly have known what had happened to my
father? He had died of a heart attack, according to Joan.

What scared me the most, I think, was the possibility I was
losing my mind.

But then I thought about those diary pages again and that my
grandfather had seen the little green guy, and had received a cufflink
from Aunt Marigold.

This was seriously messed up.

The other thing that kept inching its way into my mind was ... what
if all of this was real? What if it wasn’t meds or
hallucinations? What if, for a moment, all of this was actually
real?

Then my mother really
did
adopt me because she wanted to
preserve the life of her own offspring; the little man and all his
winged friends were actually real; the earring given to me by Aunt
Marigold must be connected to him; the woman must know something
about all of this because she’s mentioned in the diary pages;
the little trip I took last night was not conjured up by bad
alcohol or withdrawal; and my life was going to end sometime in the
next year and two days.

I stopped suddenly, having reached the park.

I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see Chris running to
catch up. That charming grin was on his face.

I wondered if what was happening with Chris was real as well.
Could it be possible he was actually interested in me?

I looked up to see if there were any flying pigs.

Nope
.

Chris stopped in front of me. “I’ve been calling you
for the last two blocks. Didn’t you hear me?”

“Huh? No, sorry.”

I was kind of surprised. I usually have pretty good hearing.
Those thoughts of mine must have had me buried.

“You okay?” he asked. His hand rubbed my arm.
“I know yesterday was pretty rough.”

I smiled — soft and demure.

Why was I suddenly acting so mushy around him?

“I’ll be fine,” I said. Then I added, “I
think.”

“Come on, I’ll race you to the field.” He took
off like a bolt, and I paused before my legs tore after him. It
took me about ten strides before I caught him. Chris was fast, but
I was faster.

I breezed past him and reached the field about five
strides in front of him.

“You’re too fast for me,” he said, stumbling
into me. He grabbed me by the waist and held on a little longer
than he normally would have.

I turned in his arms and looked at him. Those green eyes of his
were staring right into mine.

I didn’t know what to do with myself, and I couldn’t
believe what I did next.

I rubbed his head, like a little kid.

As he let me go, my tongue got ahead of my brain. “One of
these days, you might catch me,” I said.

He jogged past and whispered, “I can’t
wait.”

Chapter 6

I thought I would have had more trouble getting my head into
practice considering everything that was going on, not to mention
the fact Chris seemed to be hanging around me a little more than he
usually would. I think the other girls on the team noticed as well,
because those who had openly admitted their undying attraction to
him were staring daggers at me.

I didn’t know what to do with it, so I just threw myself
into the game full on. I even tackled Chris at one point and I
wasn’t gentle about it. It just seemed to make him smile all
the more.

When practice was over, he walked me back to my building and
asked if he could cook me dinner.

“I’m not really in the mood for macaroni and
cheese,” I said. He was apparently a good cook, or so
I’d heard.

He laughed. “I could serve it with ketchup.”

“Ah, ketchup — for when someone serves you slop.
I’ll take it.” I didn’t have any plans, so dinner with
him was fine.

Actually, it was more than fine. I was grinning like an
idiot.

“I’ll bring dessert,” I said.

I could swear his eyes looked at me like
I
was dessert.

That knot was in my throat again. “What time?”

It was almost one o’clock.

“Give me an hour to shower and stuff,” he said.

“It’s a bit early for dinner.” It was a bit of a
prying comment.

He bit. “We can just hang out for a while. I downloaded a
new song I want you to hear.”

My heart was fluttering.

“See you in an hour,” I said, and walked into the
building. I took three steps and turned to see if he was still
there. My heart leapt out of my chest. He was. He had that charming
smile that was all white teeth and bright eyes, and then turned and
walked off.

I was so excited I could have leapt up the stairs, three at a
time, all the way to the twenty-first floor.

Back in my apartment, I dodged into the shower, cleaning myself
up as fast as I could. I pondered perfume.

Too presumptuous?

I had a bottle from a former boyfriend. I took one whiff,
realized I’d probably never use it, and tossed it.

I scanned through the pile of clean clothes. Why didn’t I
have anything girly? Did everything I own involve sweat pants and
oversized sweaters?

I resorted to some jeans I was lucky still fit and a silk shirt
my brother bought me for Christmas. It had come with a
complementing scarf.

“Thank you, Geoff,” I muttered. At the very least,
my brother had good taste.

Speaking of which, I was surprised I hadn’t heard from him
yet. Would he come around, or did he still think Joan was incapable
of that much manipulation?

I left the shirt on the hanger until my hair dried. I
wasn’t using a blow dryer, that was for sure.

Scouring the kitchen and fridge for anything that resembled
dessert proved fruitless. Chocolate didn’t survive long in
this place. I’d have to pick something up along the way.

Now I had time on my hands — half an hour to kill. That
wasn’t good. I wasn’t much of a television fan. I could
have killed some time on the computer, but wasn’t in the
mood.

And those papers on the coffee table were calling my
name.

I probably should have shredded them right there and then, but I
didn’t. Instead, I plopped onto the futon and grabbed the
stack of diary entries.

I was asking for trouble, but there was a curiosity that was
niggling at me.

Instead of reviewing the same set of entries, I flipped down to
some slightly different pages. These were dated even earlier, in
the name of John Gregory, my great-great-grandfather. I remembered
he died in World War I.

A thought struck me then.

Rummaging through the other sheets that Joan had left, I
discovered the death certificate for my grandfather and
great-grandfather. I looked at the dates. They had both been
twenty-four.

I grabbed my father’s. Also twenty-four.

There was nothing in my stomach, but it felt like there was lead
in there. It wanted to come up.

At that point, I’d decided I’d had enough. I put
them down, donned the shirt, and I was out the door. I didn’t
care if my hair was still a little damp, and screw it if I was a
little early. I wasn’t staying at home any longer. I needed
to forget about this stuff because it was going to drive me
batshit.

I marched across the street to the grocery store and grabbed an
apple caramel cheesecake. If I remembered correctly, Chris was a
huge cheesecake fan.

So was I.

I arrived at his condo and had to look him up in the directory.
I’d been to the front of his building, but never up to his
place. I found his number and buzzed.

I faced the security camera and held up the cheesecake.
“Delivery!”

His voice came over the speaker. “Is this the pizza
girl?”

“That depends,” I said. “Would you like me to
be?”

Did I just say that?

The door unlocked with a buzz and I made my way up to his floor.
In the elevator, I had to wipe my palms on my jeans. When I arrived
at his door, I took deep, steadying breaths before I knocked.

Was this really happening? Should I be here? Was I asking for
trouble?

I raised my hand to knock, but the door opened.

Chris stood there in nothing but a white towel wrapped around
his waist, and I had a really hard time not showing what I was
thinking.

I’d suspected his body was well developed. Even with
clothes it was obvious his muscles were impressive. Now I could see
I’d underestimated him.

I didn’t know where to put my eyes — his shoulders,
his chest, his arms, or those green shining eyes that were staring
right through me. I turned three different shades of red and had to
force my mouth closed.

He looked coy. “I was expecting the pizza girl. That
doesn’t look like pizza.”

I didn’t know what to say. My tongue was stuck to the roof
of my mouth.

He opened the door fully. “But, I like you
better.”

I stepped in, still saying nothing. His eyes wouldn’t stop
smiling.

Oh my god.
He was enjoying this
.

I pulled myself together. “You going to stand there in a
towel or take this cheesecake?”

His eyes hinted mischief. “Well, I could let go of the
towel.”

“How about you just show me where the kitchen is,” I
said. I was afraid he’d actually let go and I wasn’t
sure I was ready for that yet. Although I couldn’t stop my
eyes from looking at a certain part of his towel that seemed larger
than it did when I’d arrived at the door.

He laughed. “It’s around the corner,” he said
pointing. “I’ll join you in a sec.”

I took one last look at the towel, then those green gems, and
made for the kitchen. I took a couple of deep breaths as I
walked.

I had better not be reading those vibes wrong.

I couldn’t be. There was no way.

On the way to the kitchen, I took in the place. It certainly had
a male feel, but it was impeccably neat. I figured he must have a
maid. No man I knew was this neat, other than Geoff. And, well, he
was gay.

Unlike the pale blandness of my apartment, the walls here were
painted in rich colors — green, blue, and even crimson in the
dining room. The furniture was modern, with a tendency towards an
espresso theme. I knew he made a good living at a tech company.