Page 29 of Love in Pieces

“What?” she almost yells but clamps her hand over her mouth at the same time the microwave beeps.

“Shhh!” I snap, pulling the microwave door open to stop the noise. My eyes widen as I glance down the hall, waiting to hear if her outburst woke Abby.

Following my line of sight, she pauses a minute before continuing. “Sorry.” Her face scrunches. “Who broke in? Is she okay? Did she call you? Did the cops find the guy?” She rattles off her questions with a whisper, barely pausing to breathe.

I hand her the hot mug of water and she slips the tea bag into it, dipping it in and out a few times before letting it settle at the bottom. “First of all, she’s okay. She wasn’t hurt. Though, I fear she may have been if I didn’t show up when I did.” I hang my head as the thought sends a wave of horror through me. Being empathetic about the situation is one thing, but the level of worry I have for Abby is more than I’m used to. Then again, I haven’t ever been in a situation like this. “And second, I don’t know the guy. She does. But it seems like her boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend now I hope, sent him. She texted me when she heard pounding on her door. And she wouldn’t let me call the cops. I tried. I really tried. But she begged me not to.”

Rose doesn’t say anything. Instead, she raises her brows, blinks a few times dramatically, and takes another sip of her tea. She gets up and comes over to my side. She leans her head on my arm in an attempt to be sympathetic. “You’re too young for this shit.” I let out a chuckle. “You should talk to mom about all this. She would likely have some ideas on how to handle the situation. And probably some choice words.”

“That was my thought, too, but I don’t know how to bring this up, or if I should get anyone else involved. Abby seems very adamant that the more people involved, the worse it’ll get for her.”

She sighs. “I would still talk to Mom. You could be vague about who it’s about.” She shrugs. “I have to get dressed. I have an interview this morning before I leave,” she says, moving toward the living room. She pulls out some clothes from her suitcase and heads for the bathroom.

When she reappears a few minutes later, I ask, “Where at?”

“Beans and Berries, the new coffee and smoothie place downtown.” She applies some mascara using the mirror on one of her makeup items.

“Cool. Good luck. I’ll probably be at work when you head home so text me after to let me know how it goes.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later.” She slips into a pair of heels before heading out the door.

The silence settles as her heels clicking down the hallway disappear. I hear the air conditioning turn on and the vent by my feet begins to cool them as I sip the coffee and revel in the room’s silence. A moment later, I hear the bedroom door open. There’s a hesitation between the door’s initial creak and the footsteps that follow. Abby’s head peers around the corner before she looks around the rest of the empty apartment and quietly takes a seat where Rose was sitting a moment ago. The same gray blanket from yesterday is wrapped around her shoulders.

“Good morning,” I greet with a wide smile. The air feels stiff, but not quite awkward.

She sets a smile on her lips although it seems a little forced. “Morning. Do you have any coffee left?” she asks, leaning her elbows on the counter.

She catches my eyes before I move to the coffee pot. “Of course, there’s still coffee. What kind of a question is that?” I chuckle, trying to ease the tension a bit. “Do you want anything in it?”

“Just creamer, please.”

Small fingers slip through the handle of the mug, and each sip she takes seems to provide a sense of immense relief. She closes her eyes every time the mug meets her pink, round lips. She pulls her knee up and rests the mug on top of it. She’s changed since going to bed last night. The blanket hanging off the back of the stool reveals an oversized band tee. A small cut down the middle of the neckline allows the fabric to hang slightly over one shoulder. Sharp black lines of a large tattoo peak over from her back jutting out in every direction. How did I not noticed that before?

I should ask how she’s doing. Last night was intense. But is bringing it up a good idea? It’s the elephant in the room, and it’s sitting heavy on my chest. “So,” I start, dragging out the conversation. Here we go. “I don’t really know how to bring this up casually, so I’m just going to ask. How are you after last night?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she takes a moment to stare at the brown liquid swirling around in her mug. She takes a long deep breath before opening her mouth. “I’m ...” she starts but stops herself. She looks deep in thought. I don’t blame her for not knowing. I can’t imagine how many emotions must be rifling through her right now.

“You don’t have to answer. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I know I’ve already asked that a billion times, but I guess I don’t know what else to ask. And it’s okay if you’re not okay. I’m here for you in that, too.” I pause, assessing her face as she takes in my incessant word vomit. “Is there anything you need from me? Or anything I can do to help?”

Her lips purse to the side like she’s biting at the inside of her cheek, debating her next move. “I think I’d rather not talk about it right now,” she says, finally looking at me. I see the fear still residing in her, the sadness rooted deep in her eyes. The anger pokes at her cheeks causing the bruise to look more prominent, and her chest rises and falls with each worry-filled breath. She takes a sip from her cup and forces a sweet smile as if trying to play off the situation.

“Of course. I won’t push anymore. When you’re ready, know that I’m here. I’ll be ready.”

“Thank you.” She rests her chin on her knee and sighs. A moment passes in silence as we both finish our much-needed caffeine. She sets her empty mug on the counter. “Do you ...” She lets out a long sigh. “Do you think I made the right choice?”

“Right choice? In what aspect? Do I think you made the right choice to get out of that relationship? Absolutely. Did you make the right choice to call me? One hundred and ten percent. Did you make the right choice to stand up for yourself? No doubt in my mind. Abby, you made the right choice. A hard one, but you made the right one.” I pause, waiting to see how she reacts.

She sniffs, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “I just ... I’m defective, Dallas. Broken. Shattered into a million tiny pieces. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know who I am. I feel like I’ve lost everything. I feel like I’m barely floating above water, and all those pieces are lost at sea.” She pulls the collar of her shirt up to wipe away a tear. Her red puffy eyes look like they’re ready to break again. I make my way over to her side. She covers her eyes with the palms of her hands like she doesn’t want me to see her cry. Her hair falls over her face like a black veil, shielding her from the outside world.

I don’t know what to say to her. I want to fix this. But how? And how do I help her? Every part of me yearns to make things right. And something in me boils with anger for those who have hurt her. Where is this coming from? I’ve never felt this unbridled desire before. I’ve tried so hard to keep this greed at bay, but then Abby walks into my life and my heart breaks for her. And craves her, all of her.Fuck.

“You’re not defective. I promise you; you’re doing everything to stay above water, and I will help you stay above water. I won’t let you drown.” I pause while she takes in a few sharp breaths. “I’ll scour the universe for the pieces that make you whole.”

She leans back on her stool and stares at me a moment before turning her attention to the ceiling. Tears trail down her temples, soaking into her hairline. A stray hair sticks to her damp cheek. I move my thumb to brush it off and she leans into my hand, the heat of her skin seeping into my palm. My thumb trails under her eyes as they drift closed. I move closer, pulling her head to my shoulder. Soft tears coat my shirt, the fabric now damp, but I don’t move. I won’t. I refuse to be another person in her life who leaves her alone when she needs someone the most. We sit for a while in silence, time ticking by slowly. She takes a final deep breath and sits up, wiping her face dry with her shirt.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

“Abby, I’m glad you feel comfortable with me. I want you to feel comfortable with me.” I cock my head to the side, trying to coax her gaze to mine. When she does, her brows scrunch together.

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