Page 39 of Every Broken Piece
Someone slides past me, but I don’t move as I massage my heart. I haven’t felt this way since...
No. This isn’t like Cara. None of this is like Cara. The strange feeling in my chest. The fear that I haven’t heard from Tess when I should have.
This. Isn’t. Cara.
Jack knocks against my shoulder when he enters, shooting me a warning look that saysget your shit together. I force my feet to move and take my usual seat at the head of the conference table. I open my notebook because I’m an old school notetaker with pen and paper. Yet, when I look down at last week's meeting notes, all I see are squiggly lines and I jerk a panic look at Jack. My biggest flex is that I can easily compartmentalize but today I can’t put two words together, let alone lead a discussion.
Jack calls the meeting to order while I pretend to take notes without hearing a damn word anyone says. Words are coming at me, muted like sound underwater. My leg is bouncing beneath the table until Jack kicks my shoe and shoots me a warning glare. I keep glancing at my watch, the minutes ticking by so slowly that I’m convinced time has stopped.
Does she blame me?
She has my email address. It’s not that difficult to remember. Why hasn’t she emailed?
Because you got her fired. She hates you.
I’m losing my shit, spiraling down a path I can’t afford to go down. This has to stop, but I don’t know how to stop it.
Finally, people push away from the table and stand, gathering their laptops and notepads and coffee mugs, talking about spring break plans and their kids' sports as they filter out of the room.
Jack closes the door behind the last person and leans against it. “What the hell’s your problem?”
“Have you found her?”
“No.”
“What the fuck are you waiting for?”
He spreads his arms wide. “I don’t know, Gabe. Maybe because I have work to do? A meeting to lead since you didn’t seem inclined to lead it?”
I slam my hand on the table. “This is more important.”
He tilts his head and studies me. “Why is this girl so important?”
“Because I got her fired. I need to fix this.”
“So you keep saying, but are you sure it’s not more than that?”
I look away because I can’t let him see what I really fear.
“You like her.” It’s not a question so I stay quiet, but I hear him move closer. He’s on the other end of the table, palms flat on the surface as he leans forward. “Youlikeher.” His grin slowly widens as he shoves off the table. “Thank you, God. I never thought this day would come.”
“It’s not like that. And what do you mean you never thought this day would come?”
“You’ve lived like a hermit for eighteen years. It’s time you came out of your cave to live again.”
“I’ve been busy raising Pax—”
“He’s twenty years old, practically already raised.”
I close my notebook and line my pen with the edge of it. “It’s not like that. She’s...”
Sweet and innocent and kind and far too young for me. We talk about books, and our lives.
Except now that I think about it, I’ve talked about Pax and Jack, but she’s never talked about herself. I know she has a friend named Amelia. She likes books, and she wants a cat. That’s it. That’s all I know about her.
“She’s what?” Jack asks.
I stand and gather my pen and notebook. “She’s too young for me.”
