Pieces of My Heart (9 page)

I looked over my empty hotdog sleeve and the few remaining fries at the bottom of the plastic basket, and nodded.

“Great. Let’s go.”

“Where?”

He gathered up the rest of the trash and stood. “To a carnival.”

***

It was a scene of spectacular chaos.

Bright blinking lights in loud colors surrounded us. Rides twisted and turned and spun at heart-stopping speeds and fear-defying heights. There were people
everywhere.
The ground was a rutted mess, carved by the thousands of feet that had come before us.

Festive music grinded from speakers strung along the tops of makeshift booths set up all along the fairway. Shots and dings of people trying their luck at various games mingled with the hundreds of voices all shouting to be heard over one another.

The smell was almost overwhelming. Funnel cake, ice cream, cotton candy. There was enough sugar in the air to fall into a diabetic coma just by breathing.

I was fascinated. Completely swept away by it all—and by the crowd, for several steps beyond where Caulder had suddenly stopped moving.

He stood like a rock, parting the river of people that tried to continue to push me along as I fought my way back to him. He was bumped and jostled repeatedly, but didn’t seem to notice, all of his attention riveted to an enormous Ferris wheel towering above us. Where the bulbs hadn’t burnt out, it blinked in red and white like a warning sign, heralding the dangers of coming any closer.

“Hey.” I tugged lightly on his shirt sleeve to bring him back to me. “Where’d you go?”

“What? Sorry.” He shook his head, ridding himself of whatever had stolen his mind. “Nothing.”

“You had one of those moments, didn’t you? The steal-your-breath kind?”

Caulder pulled in a deep breath and his gaze shifted back to the ride. “Did you know Kiernan loves Ferris Wheels? I mean
love
loves them?”

Loves.
Not lov
ed
. Caulder was still hanging on tight to his brother with both hands, refusing to let him go. Maybe he wasn’t ready. Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe he never would. But if he didn’t, Kiernan’s ghost would haunt him forever. And that broke my heart.

“There was this one time we were at a carnival a lot like this in Spain. He made me go on the Ferris wheel like twenty times in a row. I thought I was going to be sick.”

I glanced back up at its foreboding light display and noted that sickness was, evidently, a common occurrence with that particular attraction. “Let’s do it.”

“Really?” Caulder’s eyes dropped to mine and the need I saw in them wiped away the last of my doubts.

“Yeah.”

***

I knew it was a bad idea before I did it, but I did it anyway. I looked down.

It wasn’t a
bad
idea. It was the worst idea in a long history of terrible ideas. We were dangling about a million miles in the air, kept from plummeting to our deaths by little more than some rusty nuts and bolts and a fraying belt buckle.

“Are you okay?”

Without realizing it, I’d latched on to Caulder like a wild cat, impaling the skin on his forearm with what little claws I had.

“I . . . um . . .” Couldn’t form a coherent thought other than,
Holy hell, we’re going to die!
Probably not what he wanted to hear.

“You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” His concern might have gone a bit further if he hadn’t said it with a smile.

“Afraid? N-no. More like . . . petrified.”

“Angel . . .” Now he was laughing at me. “Then why did you want to get on the Ferris wheel?”

“I didn’t.” I really, really,
really
didn’t. In fact, for once I’d be more than happy to accept Caulder’s money. All of it. And offer every last cent to the man at the controls if he’d just get us down.
Now
.

“But you said—”

“You wanted to.” I probably wouldn’t have blurted it out like that under normal circumstances, but images of falling to our imminent demise had eradicated my ability to think about anything else. “I could see it on your face.”

“You came up here for me?” He gently pried me from his arm—not an easy task—and laced his finger through mine. “Even though you were afraid?”

“It was something you needed to do.” I didn’t need to see his face to know that it was true. I’d known it from the minute he’d laid eyes on that stupid wheel of death. Which was good, considering I couldn’t drag my gaze away from the dizzying sight below us. My mind kept imprinting what my guts would look like down there, scattered across the hard black concrete.

“Jade.” A moment passed before a strong hand cupped my jaw and tipped my head back to look up at him, instead of down. “Angel.”

“What?”

“Thank you.” The laughter was gone from his face. Replaced with . . . resolution? Whatever it was he needed to do up there, he’d accomplished it. “You were right. I needed this.”

“Well . . . then . . . good. That makes the minor stroke I’m having worth it.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners as the smile sprang back onto his face. “Come here.”

He pulled his hand from mine, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, and slid me closer. All of which set the car swinging, and being the epic warrior princess that I was, I immediately buried my face in his chest not wanting to see the ground as it came up to meet us.

My entire body bounced with his laughter, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t moving one more inch.

A loud crack sounded and my scream was muffled in his shirt. Like thunder. Only the skies were clear. Not a cloud in them. It was the ride. I knew it. The whole thing was about to come tumbling down—

“Look, Angel.”

“Nuh-uh.” No way.

“Jade.” His hand, which had been warming my back, clasped my shoulder and sat me back in the seat. “Open your eyes.”

Another boom sounded and Caulder settled me when I jumped as red sparkles exploded in the air. Another and gold glitter rained back down to Earth. Fireworks. They were shooting off fireworks. And from up there, they looked close enough to touch.

If someone had told me thirty seconds ago that I’d be opposed to reaching the bottom before the ride was over, I would have thought them nuts. But there I was, hoping the ride never ended. Unfortunately it did. We came to a stop at the bottom and the attendant lifted our lap bar.

Another explosion sounded and I could still see bits of the beautiful lights that followed, but now the view was impaired by tents and rides.

“C’mon.” When Caulder offered me his hand, I took it.

Suddenly we were racing past game booths with carneys hocking their cheap prizes, and a slightly creepy clown, holding a batch of balloons, which Cal took an unnecessarily wide arch around. Throngs of people blocked our path, but he expertly navigated our way to the edge of the fairgrounds, where we burst into a wide open field.

The sky cracked above us and I looked up in wonder as flashes of purple twinkled against a pure black backdrop. One after another, booms echoed through the night, followed by bursts of fantastic color. Some formed shapes. Some came at the same time, overlapping one another. All of them were beautiful. But the finale was the best. Endless explosions drowned out all other sounds. Giant white sparklers shot from the ground, while the sky lit brightly with every color imaginable.

If I could’ve picked a single moment to stay and live in forever, that might have been it.

When the echoes finally subsided and the last of the sparks flickered out, casting us and the handful of others who gathered to watch in shadows, I realized it wasn’t just the fireworks that made the moment perfect.

The temperature had taken a nosedive and my arms were covered in goose-bumps, but my back felt warm and cozy from the hard chest it was leaning up against. And the rest of me felt inexplicably hot, which may or may not have stemmed from the thick arm wrapped snuggly around my waist.

Daring a peek over my shoulder, I found Caulder’s gaze lingering on the darkened sky with that same unfathomable look.

“Did Kiernan love fireworks, too?”

“No.” His eyes fell to me, examining my face for a long moment before—with a squeeze that felt a little like hesitation—he let me go. “But I’m getting the impression someone else does.”

Is that what he was doing? Was he building a memory? Every time he saw fireworks from now on, would it make him think of me? Was it wrong to hope the answer to that was yes?

Eight

“Wake up, Angel.”

Groaning, I twisted my head away from the cold, hard surface it was resting against and blinked the dimly lit interior of Caulder’s car into focus.

“You’re home.” He sounded about as excited about that fact as I was.

I didn’t remember falling asleep on the drive home, but I must have.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” The clock on the dash caught my eye. 12:34. The fair was only about three hours from home, yet it had taken us nearly four-and-a-half to get back? “Did we just get here?”

“Not really.” Caulder scratched at the back of his neck, an embarrassed smile barely visible through the dark shadow on his jawline. “We’ve been sitting here for a while.”

“Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” Yawning, I stretched out the crick in the side of my neck.

He shrugged and, though it was hard to see his eyes, I could feel his gaze on me. “You were sleeping. And you kind of looked like you needed it.”

I must have. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I had a really great time today.”

Memories of music and hotdogs and fireworks washed over me. Memories I knew I’d hold in my heart for a lifetime. “Me, too. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. As promised.” He handed my cell to me and I turned it on to find no missed calls or messages. The world had continued to turn without me with no major disasters.

“Goodnight, Cal.” I threw open my door and felt his hand close around mine and squeeze before letting go.

“Goodnight, Angel.”

As much as I hated to see it end, I couldn’t imagine a more perfect day. My happiness level was somewhere in the neighborhood of Cloud Nine by the time I entered the building and saw the flash of Caulder’s headlights as he pulled away.

But the thing about floating amongst the clouds is that it makes for an awfully hard landing when you fall.

***

I took a deep breath and released it on a sigh, looking at the stack of bills toppled across the counter.

Welcome back to reality
might as well have been stamped across the front of the envelopes.

Several had ring marks staining them. A few had what looked like old crusty peanut butter smeared on them.
None
of them had been opened.

My fingers clenched around the three new additions I’d pulled from the mailbox on my way in. All labeled final notice. What was I supposed to do with this?

I'd barely processed the question much less an answer to it when the television went black with an audible snap, the lights all went out, and the hum of the fridge died away, leaving me entrenched in darkened silence.

Mom groaned from the couch and slowly rolled up to sitting, pushing her lank hair from her face. “What the hell did you shut that off for? I was watching it.”

Sure she was. "I didn't. Did you pay the electric bill?"

“What electric bill?”             

That's what I thought. "The one that's been sitting on this counter for days. The one you were supposed to take care of with your last unemployment check.”

“The grocery bill took up that check.” The grocery bill, AKA Michael's stockpile of beer and liquor. “What about yours?”

“I don’t get paid until next week.” And that was
supposed
to pay for our food for the next two weeks.

Even if I was somehow able to talk the electric company into reinstating our service until the end of the month, what were we supposed to eat? And what about the rest of the bills? The rent?

“What if . . . Maybe if we need a little help . . .” It was a Hail Mary move. A question I already knew the answer to. We’d struggled to make ends meet for as long as I could remember. People were bound to notice throughout the years. Teachers. Neighbors. Mom had shut down each and every offer of aid with enough venom to ensure the offer was never made twice. “Caulder said . . . I mean, I’m sure Mrs. Parks would—”

“Mrs. Parks?” She spit the woman’s name as though she wished it were aimed directly in her face. “I’m still supposed to be taking parenting advice from that nosey bitch?
What does she know? She spouts charity like she’s better than me, and look where it got her. Her kid is dead.”

I gasped at the vulgarity of her candor. She was a master at turning the English language into a weapon. With only a few words, she managed to tear away the bandage covering my raw and tender wound.

“Does this family look like a damn charity case to you?”

This ‘family’ looked like a damn disaster to me, but that’s not what I said. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t get the chance. She wasn’t done.

“You’re so worried about money, why don’t you try getting a job?”

“I have—”

“A
real
job. I worked my ass off for years. All I see you doing is sitting around on your butt all day.” She reached for an open can on the counter and took a healthy swallow. “Stupid, useless girl. You think you’re so much better than me? Because you have rich friends? Because you spend time in their fancy-ass house? Let them buy you pretty things? You’re nothing. You’re a mistake. You shouldn’t even be here.

“Let me tell you something about the Parks. You are not one of them. They
are not
your
family. That
is not
your
house. And this
is not
your
stuff.”

She lashed out and I braced for an unexpected blow that never came. Instead, her fingers wrapped around the delicate chain dangling from my neck as she executed a maneuver much more painful than any physical strike. The necklace tore free with one harsh tug, snapping the silver clasp.

“You start accepting things like this. His gifts. His money. Mark my words, he’ll start seeing you for what you really are. A little leech. Go ahead. See if I’m wrong. You’re nothing but a selfish, bottom-feeding parasite. A greedy grubber, sucking the life out of everyone around you. How you’ve hidden it this long is beyond me. But you start showing your real colors, see how far he runs. And don’t you dare come crying to me.”

Revulsion curled her lip as she flung the necklace to the floor. I watched in dismay as the angel wing pendant skidded across the cracked tiles. Dropping after it, I gave chase. The shiny silver winked in the glare of the overhead light, sliding beneath the stove before I could reach it.

“Look at you,” she scoffed. “On your hands and knees. Scurrying after the mere crumbs they throw your way.” Her twisted grin warped into a foul expression that squeezed my innards in an iron fist. “Our income isn’t this family’s disgrace. It isn’t some overdue bills, or where we live, or what we have. It’s
you
.
You
are our disgrace.”

I felt sick—physically ill—and I knew I wasn’t going to make it to the bathroom. Crawling like the deplorable creature I was to the trash can in the corner, I emptied most of the contents of my stomach inside of its lining. As I was sinking to the cool relief of the floor, a stray upheaval caught me by surprise splattering the side of the can.

My mother didn’t even have enough interest to look disgusted. “Clean that up before you go to bed.”

Turning her back on me as she had so many times when I’d needed her most, she disappeared down the hall.

My eyes burned as badly as my throat as I tracked the path of my treasured gift to where it disappeared from sight. Disgraceful or not, I needed it. Dragging myself across the small room, I jammed my arm in the narrow crevice between the stove and floor until the unforgiving metal squeezed my flesh hard enough to leave bruises. Just when I thought it was beyond my reach, the tips of my fingers brushed over my prize. Carefully, I extracted my arm. Dirt, dust, and decade’s old grease clung to my sleeve.

Sitting back on my ankles, I squeezed it so tightly that the ridges in the wing dug into my palm, but I couldn’t find it. The strength Caulder’s necklace had always given me was gone. Curling forward until my forehead made contact with the floor, I pressed my fist to my mouth in an attempt to muffle my sobs. Not that anyone would have noticed. Or cared.

I felt like a yo-yo, up one minute and then down the next. Bouncing between highs and lows so fast I couldn’t see straight. The highs—moments with Caulder where I could laugh and smile and feel happy—were beautiful while they lasted, but in the end they only made the lows so much harder to bear.

Maybe this was it. Maybe DJ was right all along. Maybe I
was
just another sewer rat. A sewer rat caught in a trap, struggling to free itself and only causing more damage in the process. Maybe things would be better if I just surrendered to the truth—to reality,
my
reality—instead of trying to turn my life into some kind of twisted fairytale.

My stomach rolled again and I sealed my lips against the rising tide of nausea. I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t keep fooling myself only long enough to get hurt. It was stupid. And reckless. My heart could only take so much. I needed to put an end to it before it was too late.

Who cared if they called me a rat? Who cared if they thought I was stupid and useless and pathetic? I was. That’s who I was. I was sick of trying to be something more.

I was Jade Carlson, daughter of Marilyn and Michael, resident of Halfmoon Park. I was the grocery hauler, the laundry washer, the trash taker-outer. I was the person who called to beg to have their electric turned back on. The one who constantly overdrew her bank account and dodged collection calls. I was the girl who ate mac-and-cheese four nights a week and soup the rest. The girl who wore thrift store clothes and holey sneakers. The
mistake.
That was me. That was all I was.

I was sick and tired of painting pretty pictures to cover all of that up.

I was done pretending.

Done imagining.

I was just
done
.