Pieces of Me Read online

  Pieces of Me

  Ann Garner

  Text copyright © 2013 Ann Garner

  All Rights Reserved

  To Stacey, who told me it wasn’t stupid and I wouldn’t embarrass myself. Here’s to hoping you’re right! I’m glad you were part of the deal when I married your brother.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Your heart can die. It can shrivel up into nothing but dust; the ashes slipping and sliding through your body until they are released as tears to stream silently down your face.

  All it takes is a moment.

  One second of time that feels like eternity even when you know it isn’t and everything changes while it all stays the same around you. So maybe it's you that changed, only your life that was wadded up like trash and thrown away.

  Surely someone will see, they will notice that you aren't you anymore. But will it matter? What will their knowing change for you? There is no going back, there is only forward.

  But you stumble.

  Forward is no longer easy, no longer instinctual. There are days you can't make any motion at all. Does it matter? Does anything matter anymore?

  So you drift. One moment to the next, until they start to blend together. Moments, days, months, years, until they are all one big blur and you can't discern one from the next. But that doesn't matter either. It's almost a blessing, a numbness you latch on to with both hands.

  The hardest part, the most painful part, is that you can't escape that moment. You see it when you close your eyes, you are immediately taken back to that moment with certain sounds, certain smells, but worse than that, worse than all of that, is the visible reminder that you are forced to see every day.

  You need to leave. To run as far as you can from the place you are, but you can’t.

  Not yet.

  But you can dream about it, you can think about it with every breath you take. So you do. Until the dream of leaving, of getting away, overtakes over you.

  There is nothing else. You convince yourself that leaving, that first moment of freedom that you will finally feel, is all you will need to turn back into the person that you were before, to the person you were supposed to become before you were derailed.

  So you wait.

  And you carefully gather the pieces of yourself. You collect them together in your mind. The old pieces, the new pieces, the ones that are too shattered for you to tell what they are. You collect them and hold them close.

  You will need these pieces one day.

  Maybe you will never put them back together the way they were, but you can make some semblance of a whole person, some patchwork of everything you've managed to save and whatever you can collect on your way out.

  You dream about the day you will no longer be pieces of yourself.

  Chapter One

  “I just don't understand why you have to go so far away. There're perfectly good colleges within a couple of hours from us. Not all the way across the country. What if something happens?”

  “Mom, seriously. Get it together. You've had all summer to prepare for this.”

  I shift in the back seat of our rental car, turning so I can see out the window. I’d been listening to the same commentary or something to that effect since we had left home yesterday.

  “I just think you should take some more time and really think about this. It's such a big decision.”

  “Rachel,” Thank God my father has apparently had enough as well. “You need to stop. This is her decision. We talked about this.”

  “Yes, but I really think,”

  “Rachel.” His tone has sharpened enough that it stops her from saying anything else. She mutters something under her breath and beneath my sunglasses I roll my eyes.

  Do I really need to explain why I want to be so far away?

  The car is finally enveloped in silence as we finish the trip from our hotel to the Cedar Mountain University campus buried within the rolling hills of North Carolina.

  The campus is crawling with people. It's easy to spot the freshmen, the doe-eyed look on their faces matches the one I saw on my own face that morning in the mirror while getting ready. It's hard to believe this moment has finally come, and I feel like I am standing on the edge of everything.

  The entire world seems to be stretched out endlessly in front of me, and whichever direction I decide to go starts here, on this campus. Something slips through my body, a warmth I didn't recognize at first, but I know now that it’s happiness. The tender edges of it started yesterday, building as every mile took me farther away from home.

  I feel it again now, as I watch people roaming across the grounds. Excitement twists through the air, almost tangible. It only builds the closer we come, and finally, finally, my father finds a parking space to slide our car into.

  I scramble out of the car as fast as I can eager to get things unloaded and to get my parents back on the road home.

  “I'm going to go get checked in.” I tell my father, not waiting for him to reply before I turn away.

  I weave through the crowds of people as I make my way towards Howard Hall, which will be my home for the next several months. The campus is sprawling, and I hadn't had the opportunity to visit it prior to today so I am going off memory of the layout from online and the few signs that are scattered around pointing out directions for misguided freshman.

  Bright banners and balloons decorated the outside of the dormitory when I find it. The building itself is a drab dull brown, faded from years of weather. It is four stories high, with row after row of windows reaching up. A wide porch area spans the front, which is currently lined with tables covered in plastic tablecloths and homemade posters showing which table students should go to for check in, depending on the first letter of their last name.

  I find the table for R’s and get in line behind a girl, no older than myself, who is standing with whom I could only assume is her mother.

  The daughter is bubbling with excitement, practically bouncing in place as she awaits her turn to check in. I understand her excitement, though I am not even close to bouncing in place.

  The mother is trying valiantly to swipe at tears without letting her daughter know.

  I know my parents love me, just as I know there will be no tears on either side when they leave.

  They haven't known who I am, not really, for the last four years.

  They had tried, in the beginning, to fix me. And when they finally realized that nothing they said or did was going to take us back to the before, the distance that had sprouted between us only grew.

  We had come to only coexist in our house.

  But I didn't want to simply coexist any more. I wanted to grow, and thrive. I wanted to take back whatever I could of the life that had been taken from me.

  And I wouldn't be able to do that at home.

  When I told my parents my decision my mother hadn't understood.

  My father had been relieved.

  When it’s finally my turn, I step up to the table, giving a timid smile to the perky blonde sitting
on the other side. She’s young, older than me, but obviously still in college, wearing a Cedar Mountain University T-shirt with that blonde hair pulled back in a smart ponytail and dark brown eyes twinkling as she greets me.

  “Hi there! Welcome to Howard Hall! What's your name?”

  “Delaney Roberts.”

  “Great!” She flips through a stack of papers in front of her, sliding her finger down as she looks for my name. “Oh, here you are Delaney! You're in room 315 with Grace Marsh. She's already checked in this morning. Here’s your room key. You'll need to report to the student union this afternoon to get your picture for your ID badge. Your ID badge is super important. It gets you in and out of all the buildings on campus, connects to your account for the food court, and checks out books from the library, among other things.”

  “So don't lose it.”

  “Exactly,” she says with a laugh. “I'm Haley Austin and I'm the RA for your hall. I'm in room 325 if you need anything at all. I've scheduled our first hall meeting to go over some of the basic campus rules for tomorrow night at 7:30 in the study lounge at the end of our hall. It's very nice to meet you, Delaney. I know you'll love it here! Go Mountaineers!”

  I know I stare at her blankly for a moment, trying to process everything she just said. I'm stunned by how obnoxiously happy she is, and hope to hell it isn't contagious. I wouldn't mind the happy, but not to the excess that it is oozing out of her pores. I reach out and grab my key and some other paperwork from her hands.

  “Thank you, Haley. I guess I'll see you tomorrow night.”

  “Great! Can't wait!”

  Even though her excitement is a bit excessive I find myself almost smiling as I decide to head into the dorm without waiting for my parents. As I climb the stairs, since the elevator currently has a line of people struggling to hold boxes, small microwaves and fridges in their hands while they wait their turn to ride, I shoot a quick text to my father, letting him know my room number.

  The stairs are crowded with people as well, but I slide through them easily enough and moments later I step onto the third floor and into total chaos.

  Laughter and loud voices dance together with various types of music that pours out of a few of the rooms. The halls are crowded with people, parents and students alike. Some of the faces are tight with tension, mostly the parents, and some are pink with excitement, the students. I shift my way through people and boxes, making my way down the hall as I look for room 315.

  I find it about halfway down the hall, with the door standing wide open and I realize some of the mixture of music is coming from inside. The perky Haley had mentioned that my new roommate,

  Grace, had already checked in.

  I’m so nervous about meeting her that I feel my hands get clammy and wipe them on my jean clad thighs. What will she be like? Please, God, make her nothing like RA Haley. I don't think I could live with that bubbly enthusiasm all the time.

  I step through the door and immediately spot her. She’s dancing, swaying her hips back and forth to the beat of the music pouring from an iPod, as she puts cloths away into a small dresser. She is petite, coming just a couple inches shy of my own five foot four frame, with black hair cut short against her head. She wears a pair of white shorts and a blue tank top, and has a butterfly tattoo peeking out from beneath the thin strap on her right shoulder.

  She turns around and a startled half scream escapes her lips. She places a hand against her heart as a smile dances across her incredibly pretty face.

  “Oh, you scared me.” She draws in a deep breath. “Please God, say you are Delaney Roberts and that you aren't in the wrong room. You look normal.” A laugh dances out. “That sounds rude, but earlier some chick walked in and she had freak written all over her.”

  “I'm Delaney.” I assure her.

  “Oh, thank you. I'm tempted to kiss you. I couldn't handle a year of crazy.” She steps across the room with her hand out. I take it in my own just as she says. “I'm Grace, which I know they would have told you downstairs. Was Haley still working the table? I think she took an overdose of happy this morning, hopefully she'll tone down after today.”

  “She was,” I say with a smile. “She was practically bouncing in her seat.”

  “I know! Crazy. Do you have more stuff that you need brought in? My parents and brothers have already deserted the field, but I can help you.”

  “Oh.” I look at the boxes all piled neatly on what she has obviously claimed as her side of the room. “No, thank you though. There isn't much, and my parents are here to help. I’ll, uh, need to go to the store. I thought that would be easier than shipping everything.”

  “Oh, perfect! I need to go to Target. Well, need might be a strong word, but I want to go to Target. I may have a small Target addiction. I have my car with me so I can drive. Did you say ship? Where are you from?”

  She has gone back to putting her clothes away in the dresser. I move to the unoccupied bed. It’s just a twin, but it looks huge in the small space.

  “Oh, I just picked a side.” Grace runs one hand through her short crop of hair. She reminds me of a pixie. “But if you don't like that one I can switch, no problem.”

  “No, this is fine,” I say. “In fact, it's perfect.” I turn and sit on the bed. Not the most comfortable in the world, but it will do. I look over to Grace.

  “Have you gone to get your ID badge?”

  “You mean the all-important, don't lose it or you’re royally screwed badge? Not yet. We can do it before we head to Target.”

  “That sounds great.”

  We both turn at the sound of someone coming into the room, and I see my father standing there with my two pitiful suitcases in hand, no stacks of boxes for me. My mother stands behind him, and I wince at the obvious distress on her face, hoping she doesn’t launch into one of her rants in front of my new roommate.

  My mother is excellent at garnering sympathy and attention for herself. She could write a class on how to make people feel bad for you. Lesson one? Have your only child decide to go three thousand miles away for college. She’ll be living the high life on the trauma of having me so far away for weeks to come.

  The worst part is, that other than when she talks about me being gone, I doubt she'll care, or even notice really, that I am gone. Not that I blame her, there is relief for me as well, to be stepping away from a past I want to forget but am forced to remember every day.

  “Introduce us.”

  My father is a pretty straight forward kind of guy, and while I may be used to the rough tone and short sentences, I see Grace glance in my direction with confusion at the terse demand.

  “Grace, these are my parents, Rachel and Alexander Roberts.”

  “It's very nice to meet you both.”

  They don't move forward to shake her hand at all, even though she has raised hers in greeting.

  We aren't touchers either.

  I really wish they had let me fly out here by myself, but I guess that had been too much to ask on top of everything else.

  We stand there for another awkward moment before I finally reach forward and grab my suitcases from my father. I set them on my new bed and flip them open. Grace thankfully takes this as a cue to return to putting her own clothes away.

  My parents step further into the room, reviewing the small space, the simple wooden dressers and desks that take up one wall, the crazy tiny bathroom that is barely large enough to hold the toilet, sink, and shower it contains.

  Grace and I work in silence other than the soft music still coming from her iPod. She had turned it down at some point, but not off entirely and I am thankful for the sound that interrupts the total silence offered by my parents.

  After their quick tour they come to a stop by my unmade bed. My mother frowns over the thin mattress before looking to me. “I just don't think this is the best place for you, Delaney.” She huffs, and for a minute I think she might actually break out those tears I was so certain wouldn't make an appearance. “I real
ly think you should come back home with us and go to school where we can keep an eye on you.”