Broken Glass Read online

  “Oh, I find that hard to believe,” I rolled my eyes. “You despise her, Shake.”

  “Yeah, well, despising her led to a stupid decision,” he grinned. “We ended up in her room and that was that.”

  “Do you regret it?” I asked him.

  “God, yes!” he breathed. “Aurelia’s psychotic! I’ve been avoiding her all day! Who knows what she’ll do when she finds me. It’ll be like it was before with her.”

  “I guess you gotta pay the consequences to your actions last night,” I pointed out. Shakespeare gave me a playful punch on my arm.

  “Whatever,” he said. “I guess we’re both avoiding people today, then.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, looking over at him quickly.

  “Henry, duh,” he replied. “Ava, it’s obvious. What happened last night? Did you get a little action, too?”

  It was my turn to punch him in the arm. Only, I did it much harder.

  “No way,” I said. “We just...he said something and I was embarrassed...”

  “Some of his philosophical shit, huh?” Shakespeare guessed. “Yeah, he can make you feel pretty small and stupid with that stuff.”

  “He was right,” I admitted. “Everything I ever say or do or feel...it all comes back to Tyson. And Henry called me out on that. And he was right...and it’s sad. It’s really, really sad.”

  Shakespeare didn’t say anything for a moment.

  “You just need more time, that’s all,” Shakespeare gave me a small smile. “So what if it’s true? You just need a little more time to figure out how to stand up on your own again. What’s so wrong about that?”

  “That’s the thing, though,” I frowned. “What if I can’t do it? I tried so hard last night, after Henry had left my room, to remember my life. To remember everything before Tyson...and I-I just couldn’t do it, Shakespeare. I just couldn’t remember a damn thing. I’m afraid I’ll never be able to remember.”

  “You will,” Shakespeare said. “You just need a spark. Something to set off that part of your brain...of your heart...then you’ll remember.”

  “And what if I don’t find that spark?” I asked him, softly. He stopped walking and faced me.

  “Then you’ll make new memories,” he said, firmly. “I promise you will. You’ve already started. With me, out here, right now. This conversation, this walk, this moment—you’ll never be here again. It will be just a picture in your head. But it’ll be something you did...something you said after Tyson wasn’t in your life anymore.”

  I nodded, wondering if he was right. If I could have that small hope that I could live somewhat of a normal life again without Tyson.

  “Ava, I didn’t want to be with Aurelia last night,” Shakespeare said suddenly, and his dark eyes met mine. “When I was wandering down the hall, I wasn’t really wandering. I knew where I was going.”

  “What are you saying?” I asked him, confused. “Where were you going?”

  Being with someone allows me to forget about all the crap in my life, Ava,” he told me. “It allows me to feel something and temporarily forget where I am and why I’m here. I was going to your room.”

  I just stared at him.

  “But, why?” I asked. He looked away.

  “I just wanted to be with you last night,” he said quietly. “And it wasn’t necessarily to be physical. I didn’t know if that would happen or not. I just wanted to be with you. To hold you. To smell your hair. To do anything but talk.”

  I was speechless. I hadn’t seen this coming. What did this mean? Why me? What was he trying to say?

  “I-I think you’re beautiful, Ava,” he went on, still not looking at me. “And you’ve got a beautiful heart. A-and I was an asshole before I came here. While you try to remember your life before, I just want to forget mine. There is so much goodness in you and you’re hurting as much as I am here. I just wanted to be with you...so you would know you’re not alone...so I would know I’m not alone.”

  So there it was. He was just a boy and I was just a girl. We were in the same painful place and all he’d wanted was a temporary way out. Why was that so bad? Maybe that’s what I needed, too.

  “Come on,” I said, extending my hand to him. He finally looked at me and I could see he was confused at my reaction. He took my hand and I led him back inside, to my room.

  “What are you doing, Ava?” he asked, once I’d closed the door to my room. I walked past him, over to my bed.

  “Come over here, Shake,” I said, gently. He did, with a puzzled look in his eyes.

  “Ava, I’m sorry about—” he began, but I shushed him.

  “Lay down,” I said and he did.

  “Scoot over,” I directed him, with a small giggle.

  “What is this?” he asked me, smiling slightly. I lay down beside him and we both stared up at the ceiling. I reached down and grasped his hand in mine. I squeezed it. He squeezed back.

  “I’m scared that I’m already dead inside and that I’ll never be okay,” I whispered then. A tear rolled down my cheek.

  “Yeah,” Shakespeare whispered back. “Yeah, me, too.”

  I was crying now.

  “You know I don’t look at you in the way you want me to,” I whispered through my sobs. “I never will.”

  “I know,” came his quiet reply. “I know that.”

  “Temporarily forgetting why we’re here won’t help,” I sniffed. “It’ll only make it all worse, you know?”

  “Yeah,” Shakespeare’s voice quivered, and he squeezed my hand. “I know.”

  17.

  “Still avoiding Aurelia?” I asked Shakespeare the following day at breakfast. He grinned.

  “Still avoiding Henry?” He shot back.

  “Until just now,” I said and I smiled at Henry as he sat down with us.

  “Hey,” I said to him, almost too politely. He smiled back.

  “Hi, you,” he said. “Have you two seen these eggs this morning? Disgusting.”

  I couldn’t help but smile again. Things were okay.

  I saw Aurelia walk into the activities room then. Her hair was now a bright shade of yellow. She looked tired, and definitely not her usual mischievous self. She glanced over at our table and saw Shakespeare. She made a face and began to march quickly over towards our table.

  “Uh oh,” I hissed. “Shake, Aurelia, three o’clock.”

  “Wha—?” he began, but he was too late.

  “You’re not Sam,” Aurelia said to him flatly, as if Henry and I weren’t there.

  “What?” Shakespeare turned to look at her. She looked especially like a crazy person this morning.

  “You’re not Sam,” she repeated. “Don’t think what happened the other night is going to become a regular thing. I love Sam and he loves me and we’re going to be together. He wrote me a letter.”

  “Um, okay,” Shakespeare shook his head. “Good for you...and Sam.”

  “I’m serious,” she wagged her finger in his face. “Sam and I, we’re in love. And you and me...we don’t work.” And then she was gone. The three of us just stared at each other for a moment.

  “Oh, by the way, I was with Aurelia the other night,” Shakespeare informed Henry then. Henry laughed.

  “I know, she told me,” he replied.

  “Was that weird?” Shakespeare asked. “Like, beyond the normal weird?”

  “Definitely,” I agreed, taking a bite of my gross eggs.

  “Sam wrote her a letter,” Henry said. “Really, he did. Said he missed her, wanted to be with her, yada, yada, yada...”

  “I thought he got married,” Shakespeare frowned. “Or did I miss something.”

  “He did,” Henry said. “Apparently, she left him because he was...I dunno...crazy.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “No kidding,” I replied.

  “What’s he up to?” Shakespeare questioned.

  “I dunno,” Henry sighed. “No good, as usual. He’s just playing with her. I just don�
�t know what for. What’s he got to gain for it this time?”

  “It’s like we’re in this twisted episode of some bad soap opera,” I spoke up. “It all just keeps getting weirder and weirder.”

  “Good to have a little outside world drama, though,” Shakespeare said. “It gets boring.”

  “Not always,” I smiled at him. He smiled back.

  “Yeah, not always,” he replied. Henry looked at us.

  “What, did you have sex with her, too?” he asked, nodding at me. I shot him a look and Shakespeare laughed.

  “I’m not that lucky,” Shakespeare said, giving me a wink.

  “Shut up!” I blushed. “You guys are ridiculous.”

  “No,” Henry corrected. “We’re mentally insane.”

  He and Shakespeare burst into a fit of giggles then. I rolled my eyes and stood up.

  “See you whackos in group therapy,” I said and left.

  I spilled juice on my t-shirt, so I had to change shirts, causing me to walk into group therapy late. I was surprised to see an extra person there, sitting beside Julianne.

  I quickly sat in the empty seat next to Henry. He nudged me and I shot him a dirty look.

  “Good afternoon, everyone,” Julianne said pleasantly. “I want to introduce you all to my son, Conner Walker.”

  Everyone mumbled hello and Henry was smirking at me. I tried to ignore him.

  “Conner is doing his internship for psychiatric medicine here at Craneville,” Julianne went on. “And you’ll be seeing quite a bit more of him in the next few months. He’ll be in our group therapy sessions and he’ll be stopping by your rooms sometimes for a visit...just to say hello and to ask you a few questions.”

  “Come by my room anytime,” Aurelia spoke up, causing a few snickers. I rolled my eyes.

  “Is there a problem, cheerleader?” Aurelia asked me. I couldn’t believe her.

  “My only problem is that I just can’t stomach you,” I replied flatly. Shakespeare laughed out loud.

  “All right, that’s enough,” Julianne said.

  “Sorry,” I said to her. My eyes passed by Conner and caught on his. He gave me a small smile. I looked away quickly.

  “Well, New Year’s is coming up,” Julianne said. “I was wondering how you all felt about a New Year’s Eve party?”

  “With cookies?” Princess Golden asked. Julianne smiled.

  “Of course!” she replied. “Cookies and cake and punch—the works! We’ll even play jingle bell rock over and over until we can’t stand it anymore.”

  I was looking out the window now, Julianne’s voice just background noise in my head. Christmas and New Year’s had always been so special for my mom and me, however I really doubted I would see her this year. A lump formed in my throat when I thought about sitting in my cold room alone on Christmas and New Year’s Day.

  “Ava, any preference on the party date?”

  Julianne’s voice broke through my thoughts.

  “Uh, no,” I jumped back to reality. “It doesn’t matter to me. If everyone can be here New Year’s Eve, we should just do it on December 31st.”

  “My thoughts exactly!” Julianne said, rather excitedly. “December 31st it is then!” I glanced over at Henry, who was looking at me strangely.

  “Who’s going to plan this party?” Aurelia spoke up.

  “That’s a very good question,” Julianne nodded. “Well, we have a little over a month until December 31s, so how about we decide on who will be doing what when we come back from the Thanksgiving holiday next week?”

  “Ava, weren’t you a cheerleader?” Aurelia looked over at me with a smirk. “I’m sure you’ve got lots of experience with party planning and decoration.”

  “I wasn’t a cheerleader,” I mumbled, slouching back in my chair. I was so sick of this place, I could barely stand it. And Conner Walker kept looking at me.

  The day of Thanksgiving arrived and I actually didn’t even know it until I walked into the cafeteria and saw the Thanksgiving display of food awaiting us.

  “Wow,” I murmured under my breath as Henry and I got our food. “It’s Thanksgiving.”

  “You forgot?” Henry asked me. I looked at him and shrugged.

  “Guess so,” I replied. “There are plenty of places to sit in here, though. I guess a lot of people got passes to go home for the day.”

  Henry was looking at me with a sort of sadness in his eyes.

  “You don’t get to see your mom today?” he asked as we walked to a table.

  “I haven’t seen my mom since my evaluation,” I told him, quietly. “I didn’t expect to see her today. Or at Christmas, even.” We sat down and I began to pick at my food as usual.

  “Why aren’t you at home, too?” I asked him, realizing that I’d never inquired about his life before Craneville.

  He chuckled, shaking his head.

  “Well, my mom’s dead,” he said. “And my father basically disowned me after he found out I was gay. No family to really go home to, you know?”

  “Oh,” I replied, looking down at my plate. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why?” he asked. “This is life. Nothing goes as anyone plans. You just have to pick yourself up and keep on walking to get through it.”

  “How did your mom die?” I asked him.

  “She was shot to death,” he told me, his voice becoming softer. “I was twelve. Robbers broke into the house while I was at school and when I got home, I found her. We had a parrot at the time—Molly. She started squawking as soon as I found my mom. She was saying, ‘Run, Henry! Run Henry!’ So I did. I ran as fast as I could to the neighbor’s house to get help. Then I was sent off to live with my dad and the rest is history.”

  “Your parents were divorced?” I guessed. He nodded.

  “Oh yeah,” he answered. “Right after I was born, pretty much. He’s a really despicable person, my dad. My mom was a wonderful woman. I wouldn’t be in here if she was still alive.”

  I couldn’t think of anything to say. I’d never realized how bad Henry’s life could’ve been. He’d always come across as so content and enlightened by everything around him that it had never even crossed my mind that he could have been subject to things so horrible.

  “What did you do to end up here?” I finally asked him.

  “I came out of the closet,” he said. “And my father didn’t support me. So I turned to drugs…meth, actually. I was hooked on it for about a year until I became so worthless and depressed that I tried to hang myself in my bedroom closet. My dad found me before my last breath had escaped me and sent me here.”

  “How old were you?” I asked.

  “Seventeen,” he told me.

  “Didn’t you tell me you’re twenty now?” I didn’t understand. “And you’ve been here this long?”

  “Yep,” he chuckled again. “Just can’t seem to get better, I guess.”

  “But you seem all right to me,” I said. “I can’t imagine how you of all people could keep failing your evaluations.”

  “Who knows,” he shrugged. “Maybe part of me just wants to stay here…after all, I don’t really have anything waiting for me outside of this place.”

  “Well that’s just insane, Henry!” I exclaimed, and I was surprised when he laughed loudly.

  “Nice word choice, Ava,” he smiled. “You know, some of the best people I’ve ever met, I’ve met here. People that are more decent and kind and just…real…more real than anyone outside that’s considered ‘normal’ and ‘not sick’.”

  “All this time I’ve just wanted to get the hell out of here,” I whispered. “But when I really think about it, there’s nothing for me to go back to, either.”

  “Ah, Ava, but that’s not true!” Henry argued. “Don’t you understand? You need to get back out there! You need to realize that there still is life after Tyson! There was a life you led before and there will be a life you lead after. It’s up to you to choose how you’ll live after.”

  I just shrugged, not wanting to tal
k about this. Nobody understood. Nobody would ever understand.

  Two days later, I was sitting in my room floor drawing, when there was a soft knock on my door.

  “Come in,” I called, not looking up when the door opened.

  “Er, hi,” I heard a familiar voice. My head snapped up quickly and I was surprised to see Conner Walker standing there.

  “Hey,” I said, not moving. I was unsure of what to do. “What brings you here?”

  “Oh, just making rounds on the patients,” he smiled. “Just trying to get to know everybody as part of my interning.” He looked awkward standing there.

  “Um, well you can sit down on the bed if you want,” I told him. “I-I was just doodling.”

  “Doodling, eh?” he asked, walking over to stand beside me. He peered down at my drawing. “What sort of doodling?”

  “Oh, just doodles,” I replied, a little shyly. “Nothing fancy…just a tree.” I was surprised when he sat down on the floor beside me then.

  “It’s a very nice tree,” he commented. I laughed.

  “Thanks,” I told him. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Is it a significant tree?” he asked. I looked at him for a moment before replying.

  “Um, yeah,” I said, and then, hesitantly added, “I saw it in a dream once…actually, I see it in my dreams quite often…when I sleep, that is, which isn’t very much, but…” I let my voice trail off because I felt like I was rambling on like an idiot.

  “May I?” he asked, holding out his hand. I nodded and placed the sketch in his hand. He examined it for a moment.

  “What exactly happens in this dream with the tree?” he asked me then. I didn’t answer him right away. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to. After all, I didn’t know him and why would he care about the tree?

  He’d probably be freaked out at the grotesque details of the dream and the tree, and he’d probably leave my room in a rush because he’d think I was nuts. And for some reason, I didn’t want that. I didn’t want him to think I was nuts. I didn’t want him to leave. Something about his company set me at ease.