Page 77 of Fractured

“No problem, Kat. I’ll tell her you’re already asleep. I’m going to turn the light off and shut the door. Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay. Thanks, Rach. For everything.”

She gives me a knowing look and a sliver of a smile before shutting the door.

* * *

Utter exhaustion, mental and physical, has completely wrecked my body. But I can’t shut out the events of the last week from my mind. I blink through tears most of the night, unable to get any sustained sleep at all. Confused by the time, I look at the clock. 8:20 a.m.. Looking back down at my phone, I notice I have missed messages from the evening before. I’m almost afraid to look. My tattered psyche cannot handle any more texts from Mark.

Holding my breath, I open the little green app.

7:40 p.m.

Nick Barnes

Nick: How are you?

8:25 p.m.

Nick Barnes

Nick: Can I get you anything?

I’m so torn. This sweet man, he’s so kind and caring. But he doesn’t deserve to be with an empty shell of a woman. I’m not going to make any decisions yet. I can’t think clearly in my current state. But I know I’m not in a place to see anyone right now. I need some solitude. I just want to be alone. About to close out of the app and head to the kitchen for some coffee, I spot there’s one more.

8:45 p.m.

Nick Barnes

Nick: Get some rest. Call me when you can. I just need to know you’re okay.

Okay? Am I ever going to be okay? As if on cue, the tears begin again. Good lord, how are there any still there? I’m trying to wean myself off of the showers, or I’ll turn into a prune with legs. Wrapping my thick robe around me, I traipse into the kitchen to fill my coffee pot. I can barely see the top to fill it with water as my weeping is obscuring my vision.

Knock, Knock.

What? Who could be coming by here at this hour? I’m sure it’s my mother. Jeez, I’ll never hear the end of it. ‘Katarina, clean yourself up. You’re a fright.’ Well, my whole life’s a fucking fright. Might as well dress the part.

Knock, Knock, Knock.

Uh, I really don’t want to see anyone today. I just want to be left alone. But the knocks are more persistent now, and I don’t need her waking the whole neighborhood once she starts shouting my name. Attempting to wipe the tears from my eyes is useless, new ones simply take their place. As I round the small hallway toward my entryway, I can see flowers in the narrow window beside my door. They’re beauti… Oh god. I move to the left so he can’t see me. Turning my back to the front door, I feel my heart racing. What’s he doing here? Doesn’t he work today? Leaning to the left, I peek out again.

Standing in a suit, holding the largest bouquet of pink and white flowers I’ve ever seen down by his side, is my knight in shining armor. When exactly did he exchange his arrogant coat of arms for this benevolent one? My body is suddenly wracked with sobs, shuddering uncontrollably. I slide down the door until I’m crouched on the floor, no longer able to stand under the weight of the overwhelming feelings. I can’t see him like this. I’m too emotional. Leaning my head back, I hit the door and wince, worried he’ll have heard me. How can I possibly let him in? I need time. This man has already put up with so much, he doesn’t deserve this. A girl who can’t sleep and has pictures that could grace the internet any day of her doing god knows what. A girl who’s receiving texts from someone who she thought was a friend, why? To threaten me? A girl who’s now barren and will never be able to give him the life he wants. He deserves the world. He deserves so much more than what he’d get with me.

Thud. “Dammit.”

I hear the sound right behind my head and turn to see the flowers are now lying on the porch by my window, his large hand wrapped around the base of them. He’s sitting directly behind me, separated by the door. Covering my face with my hands, I attempt to stifle the blubbering that won’t stop. Suddenly, there’s shuffling behind me, and I sit up straighter. I lie my back against the cool door and listen. After what feels like an eternity, I hear his car start. Turning my head once again, I watch as he drives away. Probably for good this time.

* * *

It’s been days. Days of this agonizing, gut-wrenching pain. My body has healed, but I doubt my heart ever will. I’ve managed to grab short naps along the way but have not had any sustained sleep… probably since I was under anesthesia. I feel like a zombie. I barely know the time of day, much less which day of the week it is. Looking out the window, I see it’s dark out. This has to stop tonight. I know my fragile state is worse due to the lack of rest. I can’t think clearly in this condition. I need to find some relief soon, or I’ll never get back on my feet. I can’t lose my job on top of everything else.

I’ve tried this on my own. Admitting defeat, I drag my weary body to the kitchen. I have to get some sleep. Nothing else matters at this point. I reach for a bottle of wine I have sitting on the counter. It’s a red, doesn’t need to be chilled.Heck, I’m not drinking it for the taste anyway.Grabbing the corkscrew, I open the bottle and look for a glass. I might have to finish the whole damn bottle, but I’m getting some sleep tonight come hell or high water.

Pouring the fragrant red Pinot Noir into my wine glass, I head back to my bedroom. I’m surprised I can smell at all as swollen as my face has become with crying for days on end. As I sip from my glass, I turn and see that book. Dr. Ryan had consulted a Psychiatrist who dropped by to see me before I was discharged. “Dealing with Infertility” stares back at me from the cover of the book. Suddenly dealing with a potential stalker and portions of my life only known to me through pictures and conversations with others didn’t seem as daunting.Could I go back there? Trade this nightmare for the previous version?

Several hours later, I’ve consumed about half of the bottle of Pinot and taken a Benadryl. I still can’t shut out the demons dancing in my mind. I try to meditate on something pleasant, but those thoughts turn to images of Nick holding flowers on my front porch, and I begin to cry again. After he left, I opened the door and found them lying on the front porch mat. Clutching them to my chest, I brought them inside. I had to put them in a vase, the paper wrapping was soaked in my tears. They were lovely. Just like the exquisite man who delivered them. Could this kind, adoring man love me despite my brokenness? If anyone could, I’m sure it would be him. But is it fair to ask that of him?

The tears start to fall again, and I realize I’m out of tissues. Gathering my wine and used limp tissues, I head for the bathroom. After depositing the tissues in the trash, I look under the sink for a new box and come up short.Uh. Figures. I should own stock in Kleenex.I sit down on the floor by my tub and reach for my toilet tissue, wiping my eyes and then my nose. Just as I think I’m getting myself together, I notice I’ve brought that damn book in here with me, and the tears begin again. “I’m so done with this!” I shout at no one. I need to shut this off and get some sleep. Without thinking, I turn and pull the cabinet door open and reach in the back.I can almost feel them. There…

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