A Shattered Moment (Fractured Lives 1)

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” Sliding his arms around my waist from behind, he rested his chin on my shoulder as we watched the waves. The beach would always hold the special memories of my old life, but with Bentley, I was ready to start fresh. I had to admit it was a tad bit embarrassing to think about how he and I had commemorated our first trip to the beach, but it would be a secret we would always have to share. My heart swelled with contentment. Turning in Bentley’s arms, I gave him a gentle kiss on the lips I loved so much. “Thank you,” I said sincerely.

He didn’t ask what I was thanking him for. He knew.

We arrived back at my house sooner than I would have liked. Bentley helped me out of the car, and I was sad our day had to be over because he now had to work the rest of the weekend. Monday seemed far off. I was getting spoiled seeing him every day.

twenty-one

Mac

As promised on Saturday, I spent the day with Mom, watching Gilmore Girls. Dad, who wanted no part of what he called our “perfect dystopian show,” spent the day hanging Christmas lights on the house and setting up the yard full of blow-up decorations and light-up reindeer. Dad loved Christmas, making our house look like it belonged at the North Pole with Santa. Every year he added something new to his masterpiece. If it were up to him, he’d decorate even sooner, but Mom always insisted he wait until after Thanksgiving.

He’d managed to find some awful-looking decorations over the years. Like the blow-up snow globe that blew fake snow on a snowman that for some reason had a sadistic-looking pair of eyes. He looked like a possessed Frosty. After several years in the Florida humidity, half the Styrofoam pieces stuck to the inside of the globe, partially obstructing the evil-looking snowman inside. The next year, Dad brought home another godawful blow-up decoration of a big fat Santa driving a sleigh. The problem was the last reindeer was too close to Santa, so it looked like maybe Santa was doing something inappropriate to the poor reindeer. When Mom pointed it out, Dad acted offended, saying she should get her mind out of the gutter. They both tried to drag me into that debate, but I refused to get involved. Somehow, Dad won and the perverted-looking decoration remained. We’d yet to see what the new addition would be this year, but I suspected our TV-watching marathon was Mom’s way of avoiding what was going on outside.

Watching the familiar show with her, I was engulfed in a flood of memories from the previous times we’d watched the show together. It was good to have Mom next to me now as I reminded her of the disastrous time we decided to give each other facials while watching the show. Somehow we goofed it. The green goop on our faces hardened too quickly and had become a mess when we tried to remove it.

Throughout the day we gorged on Thanksgiving leftovers, likening ourselves to the characters on the show, who always seemed to be eating. Halfway into disk number four, Mom, who had been fighting sleepiness since the end of disk three, lost the battle and was snoring quietly on the couch beside me. Covering her with the afghan Nana had crocheted before she passed away, I lowered the volume on the TV and headed for my room.

I lay down on my bed, glancing around my room and taking note of how different it looked versus how it once had. At one time, my room had been cluttered with years’ worth of books, pictures, posters, movie ticket stubs, and other knickknacks that defined my time growing up with my friends. After the accident, I couldn’t handle the reminders. I purged everything until only my furniture, television, and bed remained. My room now was about as personal as a hotel room, minus some crappy-looking painting hanging on the wall. The more I looked around, the more I suddenly missed my old stuff, so I got up and headed to the garage to see what I could find.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Dad greeted me as I entered the kitchen on my way to the garage. He was sitting at the counter eating a turkey sandwich while he watched a movie on his iPad.

“Is that Christmas Vacation?” I already knew before I asked, recognizing the music.

“Yep, I felt it was fitting since I finished decorating. Did you see the yard?”

“Uh, not yet,” I answered, edging toward the garage door. “I wanted to wait for Mom.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. I just had something else I wanted to do at the moment.

He smiled, buying my line of bull. I would have to corner Mom so she could fake the same level of enthusiasm. “What’s up then?” he asked as I opened the door leading to the garage.

“I just need a few things from the garage.”

“Do you need some help?”

I weighed his words for a moment before answering. I’d planned to go through the boxes in the garage, grabbing what I wanted, but it would be easier if the boxes were in my room. “Would you mind carrying a few boxes to my room?”

He shut off his iPad. “Do you want all of them?” He didn’t need to ask what boxes I was hunting for. He was the one who had stored them away after I’d melted down last year. At the time, I’d told him I wanted them thrown out for good, but Mom intervened, telling me not to make any hasty decisions that I would regret. Even though I had disagreed with her then, I was now glad she and Dad had taken matters into their own hands and saved them.

I nodded. “But finish your sandwich first,” I said, feeling bad for interrupting his snack.

“Not a problem.” He headed for the garage with the rest of his sandwich in hand.

I went back to my room and had just settled myself on the floor when he arrived with the first box. Pulling the flaps open, a small gasp left my lips when I saw my prom dress folded on top. Pulling it out, I smoothed my hand over the wrinkles on the light pink material, recalling all the planning and searching that had gone into finding the perfect dress for senior prom. Knowing that pink was the most flattering color for my complexion, I had searched long and hard until I came up with one that perfectly matched the mental picture in my head. Seeing it now, I realized how silly I had been during that time. Prom had nothing to do with dresses or shoes but everything to do with friends.

Setting the dress to the side, I looked back inside the box, discovering all the stuffed animals that had once graced my bed. I pulled out the bear that Tracey gave me when I had my tonsils out. It was dressed in light green scrubs. She’d bought it for me after I told her how cute the anesthesiologist had been. I hugged the bear tightly, remembering Tracey’s mischievous smile when she handed him over. It was the perfect gift. I placed the bear on the foot of my bed for safekeeping as Dad came in with another box.

In the end, he carried five large boxes to my room. I stayed up half the night going through all my stuff. Each of the boxes provided a roller coaster of emotions—from crying to memories of laughter. My entire old life was in those five boxes. As I unpacked them, I felt like I was finally finding the old me I had also packed away.

The pictures were more difficult to deal with. Most of them were of my friends and me back in elementary school since no one had smart phones at that time. Anything more recent would be on my computer hidden away in folders I never clicked open. Sadly, over the last year or so, their images had begun to fade from my mind. Everything, that is, except the night of the accident. Those memories still haunted me. I hated that my mind had decided to betray me that way. I say betray me because it wasn’t like I had a choice. My mind was my own, and yet, I couldn’t force it to remember certain images of my friends and ignore others. Thumbing through the pictures in my hands caused tears to fall hot and fast from my eyes. Each one felt like I was somehow cleansing my soul. We were rarely serious, which meant half the pictures were of us doing something goofy. Hugging the stack to my chest much like I had the bear, I was thankful Mom had insisted I keep them. I placed them all in a plastic box with great care so they wouldn’t get ruined.

I couldn’t believe all the movie theater stubs I found. I didn’t remember having so many. Those along with any other paper m

emorabilia were also treated with the appropriate amount of reverence and placed in the keepsake box Zach had given me for Valentine’s Day senior year. It was in the shape of a book with the cover of Ethan Frome, which we were all forced to read in English class sophomore year. All my friends hated the book except for me. It was the most thoughtful gift I’d been given, and I kissed Zach enthusiastically for it. I remember he had tried to coax more out of me than the kiss, but I had pulled away. I was so naïve then. Zach had always wanted more out of our relationship than I was willing to give. I just refused to face it. I regretted each of those types of moments now.

Most of the stuff I placed back in the boxes for Dad to store in the garage again. I kept out a few of my favorite things—the Beauty and the Beast snow globe Tracey had given me the year we saw the Broadway play together and my Harry Potter special edition set of books that all of my friends had pitched in to get me when my English essay was picked to be published in a local magazine. I arranged everything on the shelves of my bookcase.

Three of the five boxes were now empty. I broke them down flat and placed them in the garbage boxes to be taken out in the morning. I was exhausted, but definitely more satisfied than I could remember being in a long time as I climbed into my bed with the stack of yearbooks I had also kept out. I had one from each year of school, including kindergarten. That was also because of Mom, along with making sure they never became damaged over the years.

All of the elementary school books were basically the same except that with each passing year you could see the signatures got slightly better. By middle school everyone began writing silly anecdotes and jokes to each other. In high school the messages became more and more sentimental the closer we got to senior year. That was the book I lingered through the longest, reading each and every message from my Brat Pack more than once. We all knew we were heading in different directions and our time as a group was coming to an end. Reading each passage now, I felt like I was reading their final good-byes. I set the stack of yearbooks on my nightstand table, except for the one from senior year, which stayed in my hands as I closed my eyes. I fell asleep knowing that in the morning I would be facing another challenge.