Broken Like Glass (5 page)

Just as I suspected,
the ride to the cabin is spent with Uriah asking me about my reaction to Mr. Marlin.

“What happened tonight?” he asks.

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you reacted that way before?”

I think for a moment. He was at Kettlefish. “No, I saw him at the bar yesterday and I thought nothing of it.”

“Then what made you look like you were gonna puke?”

I shake my head and look out the window. Something in the back of my mind itches, and I rub my temples to scratch it. Replaying the moment back, I smell the cologne, see his scraggily smile, and those eyes and I feel the same visceral reaction. My whole body shivers, but I still can’t put together why. My pecan pie is tickling the back of my throat and I swallow hard to push it back down.

“Lills?”

Somehow we’ve driven all the way to my cabin and parked and I’d been so caught up trying to remember I didn’t even notice. “I’m fine.” I pull the handle, open the door, and water splashes to my knees when my feet hit the ground.

Uriah is out of the truck just as quick as I am. He walks me to the door. I make a face and stomp my foot, water sloshing from my shoes. “Dang it. I forgot to go grocery shopping.”

“Did you forget or did you just not want to go to the Thriftway.”

The scene in the store flashes. “I don’t want to go to that store.”

Uriah looks down at his watch. “It closes in twenty minutes. Stay here, I’ll be back in thirty.”

“You don’t…” I start to say but he’s gone before I can finish so I turn and go inside. The heat seems to be okay. With the moon covered by the rain clouds, the house is so dark I almost think it’s spooky.

I guess I don’t have to worry about my PJs being too thin. Not like he could see anything anyway. I go to the bathroom, dry myself off and then switch clothes.

The rain has stopped so I grab a towel and walk out onto the deck to dry my chair off before plopping down. I rest my feet on the railing and open-mouth suck in the moist air. It’s sharp and crisp and clean. It makes my lungs feel like I’m breathing in ice.

“Papa,” I say out loud, “I feel alone. I feel like you’ve left and now I’m just here in this town.” I feel a tug on my heart and Uriah’s face springs to my mind. “Sure, I know. He’s here, but I feel like it’s too late. We had our moment and it’s gone.”

The thoughts and feelings ping around in my head until I hear tires. Uriah doesn’t bother knocking this time, and I hear him grumble when he hits his shin on the corner of the entry table. “Don’t you have any lights?”

“It’s why I needed to go to the store.” I come off the deck, turn the light on, and one little light bulb tries to pierce the darkness. It’s enough that we can see to put the groceries up, though.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

I shrug. “Just forgot.”

Uriah is digging through the bags he’s carried in. “Here, I thought you could use this.” He hands me a little devotional. I look over the cover and smile.

“Thanks. Did you buy this at the store?”

“No, I stopped at the house on my way back. It’s one of momma’s. I thought you could read it or something.”

I flip the little book open, and I can see Mrs. Pendleton has used this little book often. Little notes, pen marks, and sentences are underlined. Maybe some of her wisdom can leap off the pages and settle in my mind. “You sure your momma won’t mind?”

“Shouldn’t, since she’s the one that picked it out.”

The genuineness of the gesture almost brings me to tears. They had both been the kindest to me so far. Not that I’ve had crosses burned in my yard, but when you’ve got accusations and judgment thrown your way, you feel it in your marrow.

Uriah empties the last bag and finishes putting up my groceries. I’ve paid no mind to where things have gone so tomorrow should be fun seeing what all he got. “You wanna sit on the deck with me a while, Uriah?”

My offer catches him off guard. He turns to the fridge and pulls out two long neck bottles. Turns out he thought I might have a craving for grape soda and he’d bought two six packs. He pops the caps off and hands me one. The grape scent floats up and I smile.

I take my chair, lean back and cross my ankles on the railing. Sitting like this makes me feel relaxed. I’m taking in the sights, forgetting my woes, and just enjoying Papa’s big wide world. Even if it is dark, wet, and spooky.

Uriah mirrors me by putting his feet on the railing. We sit quietly for a while. Before long, the crickets and frogs have come out and they are singing up a storm, no pun intended. Breaking the silence, he says, “So, I’ve got six months to get to know you again. Why don’t we pick up where we left off in the truck when we got to church? Tell me about this Papa thing you do.”

I put the long neck to my lips and take a long fizzy drink. “I talk to Papa. I don’t know what much else I can say.”

“What made you start calling Him, Papa, though?”

I take a deep breath and let it out slow. Uriah is looking at me. I can’t see him, but I can sure feel it. “It was a few years ago. I was going to this homegroup thing and one night it just kinda hit me. It had been a few years since I’d been here or seen daddy and I felt so lonely. The name just flitted into my mind and it was like He was talking to me. I started calling Him Papa, and it just took. I’ve called Him that ever since.”

“But you don’t go to church. Isn’t it hard to not have fellowship?”

“Who says I haven’t had fellowship? Papa says where two or more are gathered He’s there too. We’re fellowshippin’, aren’t we? Talking about Papa, listenin’ to his songs,” I say and point to the woods. “Papa doesn’t need buildings and potlucks and crowds. He just needs us and our willingness to listen and love on Hm.”

Uriah clears his throat. “Lills, you always did have a way with words.”

“I don’t have a way with nothin’.” I take a drink and fix my eyes on what I hope is a tree in the distance.

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“I don’t know nothin’ either.”

Uriah’s chair legs hit the deck and he scoots himself closer. I can feel the heat coming off of him and it brings my attention to the fact that it’s kinda chilly. “Lills, look at me.”

“No.”

“Come on, look at me.”

“Why? It’s dark. Not like I can see anything. Neither can you.”

“There’s enough light from the kitchen I can make out a few things and so can you.”

The Borg in my head says resistance is futile and I drag my eyes to his. “What? What do you need to say that needs my direct attention?”

His face is soft in what little light there is. He brushes my hair off my shoulder and looks at me in a way that makes my bones feel all doughy like I could be baked and served with butter. “I don’t know what happened to you Lills. It breaks my heart seeing you hurt so bad. I know we haven’t talked in a real long time, but I love you just as much now as I did back then. I should have protected you from whatever did this to you,” Uriah says, his voice so soft and earnest it makes me ache.

“Uriah, I was serious. I’m broken. My pieces are just jagged and good for nothin’.” I try to keep the desperation I feel out of my voice, but it wavers.

“You know, for someone who talks to Papa so much you sure don’t listen too good.”

I sniffle and drink the rest of my soda. “What would you know?”

“Psalm 118:5: And in my anguish, I cried out unto the Lord and He rescued me by setting me free.”

Something inside of me breaks. The dam of tears I thought I’d already spilled come pouring down my cheeks quicker than I can swipe them away. Uriah gathers me in his arms and I can’t do anything but cry on his shoulder.

Oh, Papa, where have I been that I’ve been so deaf, I think to myself and the tears pour even harder, if that’s possible. I grab onto Uriah with all my might and he holds me even tighter. Maybe my pieces aren’t so jagged that he and Papa can’t fix them.

“I feel like I’ve done this before,”
I say sitting in the chair across from Chrissy.

“Maybe it wouldn’t feel that way if you’d actually talk about something,” she says with this look of concern.

“Where’d you learn that face? College?”

She rolls her eyes and scoffs at me. “Lillian James, if I didn’t have a Dr. sitting in the front of my name I’d take you over my knee and give you a wholloping.”

“You better hope your daddy was kin to Hulk; otherwise, you’ll have a good ole fight on your hands.”

Chrissy looks at me stone-faced and then busts out laughing. “That mouth of yours is going to land you in prison or a coffin one day.”

“If I’ve got a choice I’ll choose the coffin.”

She just looks at me again, the laughter in her face gone. The silence starts to feel heavy. Chrissy leans back in her chair. “Lilly, how about we change the way we’re doing things? How about you just talk about whatever you want and we’ll go from there?”

I give her a hard look. “You know everything there is to know about me.” It’s not true, but I hope she buys it.

Chrissy levels her eyes at me and I know her dollars aren’t buying what I got. “Start with after you left here. Where did you go? What did you do?”

There isn’t enough air in this awful, earth colored room to fill up my lungs, but I try anyway. “I went to college when I left just like all of you.”

“Where? No one knew where. Not even your dad.”

“No one needed to know.”

“Did you go because your momma had just died?”

My jagged pieces grow like Magic Rocks at the mention of my momma. I start to open my mouth and spew something so nasty Papa might blush, but Chrissy cuts me off.

“Don’t you start. You’re here and I’m here, and what you say won’t go anywhere, Lilly. I’m a good listener. Great even. I had a 3.8 GPA in school and I knocked my doctorate out quicker than anyone in my class. This is my calling. It’s what God gave me. So, keep your nastiness to yourself.”

Chrissy puts water in my gas tank and all my hatefulness sputters. Tears pool in my eyes. I feel Papa poke my heart with a sharp finger. “I’m sorry, Chrissy.” I can’t look at her, but the apology is real.

“It’s okay, Lilly.”

“No, it’s not. I got a viper for a tongue sometimes.”

“At least you know it,” she says and the laugh that escapes her is light and free. “Now, tell me something. Something with importance. Tell me secrets worth keeping.”

I lift my head and stare at her forehead. Meeting her eyes is more than I can handle right now. “I left Foaming Springs because I had to and I didn’t want anyone I knew to be where I was going.”

Chrissy sits quiet, doing her therapist thing.

“Everybody knows my biological parents was druggies. They’d come back to town from time to time, but they’d never stay. Momma and daddy and I were okay while I was little, but as I got older it got harder. They didn’t understand me and I didn’t understand them. Anyone on the outside saw a little family, but on the inside, we were a war.”

Chrissy is using her pen. I can hear it scratch across the paper fast and furious. For a second, I rev my viper and get ready then I remember Papa’s sharp poke and put it in neutral. She looks up from her clipboard and smiles. “Keep going.”

“Me and momma we didn’t see eye to eye. She had plans for me and at no time did she need input from me. I was traveling the world, you see. By any means necessary, whether by military or sugar daddy. I was going to see things she hadn’t. Coming up poor, made momma a little crazy about things.”

“Her dying hurt, but not like I missed her, hurt. It hurt because I wanted a relationship with her like other girls had with their mommas. I wanted her to brush my hair, kiss my scars, and want for me what I wanted, but she never could. She loved me,” I say thinking back hard. Trying to remember if I believe what I’m saying.

“You okay, Lilly?”

Chrissy’s voice rocks me from my memories and I look at her. “Obviously not. I’m here aren’t I?”

“You know what I mean. Your momma loved you. I saw the way she cared.”

“Yeah, I think she did. I think she just loved me the way she thought she wanted to be loved when she was my age. Only, I needed to be loved like I wanted to be loved. Her loving didn’t feel like loving. So, when she passed, it was like momma died, the end. I didn’t really feel anything, but an emptiness where her body used to be.”

“Do you miss her?”

I think for a moment. I want to answer Chrissy honestly, but I haven’t been asked that question before so I don’t know the answer just off the top of my head. “No.”

“You don’t miss your momma?”

“I thought therapists weren’t supposed to judge.”

“We don’t, but we do challenge you.”

“So you’re challenging my response?”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“So you have to back it up with a reason. That way when you think about it the next time it’s not just a feeling or an answer. It’s something tangible you can understand. That’s what I do. I’m not just a friend, sipping coffee with you, taking your answers as gospel. I’m the little voice in the back of your mind, pushing you to really answer the questions and work through what you’re actually feeling.”

I take a deep breath. “I don’t miss my momma. I miss what I could have had with her. If you can miss what you don’t even understand.”

“Have you tried to understand it?”

I shrug. “I think so. I don’t know. I haven’t had to think about it, ever.”

“Well,” Chrissy says and looks at her watch, “think about it between now and Friday. I want a solid answer when you come back. That’s your homework.”

“I hate homework.”

Chrissy smiles. “Maybe by the time you come back you won’t.”

“Maybe, but don’t count on it.” I sit for a moment longer and then push out of the chair.

Oh, Papa, I got mountains that need moving if you’re so inclined.

I stuff my hands in my pockets and set off with a determination to get light bulbs from the Thriftway. My determination turns to cowardice as I round the corner and the sign blinks at me from the distance. I don’t need light bulbs that bad, I think to myself and spin on my heels in the direction of my woodland cabin.

A truck rumbles next to me. Uriah pokes his head out of the window and smiles. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed a ride to town today?”

Why? Because. I got no good answer beyond just because, so I shrug in response.

“You wanna take a ride and get a bite to eat in the next town over?”

“Can’t. Bad girls gotta eat tacos or fish or nuke Hungry Man meals.”

“Well, want fish?”

I walk to the truck and lean my hip against the door.

“She doesn’t like fish!” Bo yells from behind me. He jogs to a stop next to the pickup. Those eyes he’s got are throwing daggers and large furniture in my direction. His suit is fine and tailored and obnoxious. I wish I could push him in a puddle.

“What you doin’, Bo?” Uriah asks.

“Oh, just got some papers to get notarized. Fancy said she’d do it. I just gotta go to Kettlefish to do it,” Bo answers and looks at his watch.

Uriah gives Bo a questioning look. “Why don’t you just go to the courthouse to get stuff notarized?”

Bo makes a face. “Because Tallulah Moore is still the court clerk, and the only notary. She’s just as nasty as when she was a substitute teacher when we were kids and I avoid her at all costs. I’d rather go to Fancy. She’s tough, but she’s not nasty.”

“I understand that.” Uriah nods and his face scrunches at he looks skyward. “You had lunch?”

Now, Papa, I know you’re a cunning fellow, but this idea is sounding about as good as sticking my hand in a dark hole hoping to pull out a catfish. What if there’s a snake in there?

Bo looks at me and then at Uriah and then at me again. He’s thinking the same thing I am only he’s not hiding it as well. “I don’t know.”

“Oh come on. We’re friends, me and you. How many times did I help you tip the cows in your grandma’s field?”

Bo laughs at the memory. A memory I’m absent in. “All right. Where?”

Uriah looks at me. “Lady’s choice.”

“Tish’s. Just don’t want them cold ever again.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you two there.” Bo looks at his watch again and sprints in the direction of the Kettlefish and I walk around the front of the pickup and hop in. If I’m going, I may as well ride.

The truck rumbles as Uriah hits the gas pedal. It chugs along and he’s humming a hymn I recognize: All to Jesus I Surrender. There you go again, Papa. That finger you got seems to be extra sharp today. I rub the spot on my chest that’s directly over my heart. I hear the little voice that seems to be growing louder the longer I’m in town.

Papa says, “Sometimes my finger needs to be extra pointy; otherwise, no one listens.”

I can feel the tears burning to be released, but I blink a few times. That seems to quell the tide in my eyes, and I decide the silence isn’t what I want right now. “Why’d you invite Bo?”

Uriah stops humming. “Why not?”

“You didn’t see the looks he was giving me?”

“I saw them. I want him to confront them. I want him to see you and stop being jealous. I want him to move on and find someone who will love him. If we keep just tossing him aside, we let his anger grow and fester and we can’t do that. It’s not what Jesus, or Papa, would want.”

Well, dang. “Okay. Point taken.”