Broken Like Glass (3 page)

Uriah’s 80’s Ford pickup rumbles
and then dies as we sit in front of my rented cabin. After tacos, he’d insisted on driving me home. To tell the truth, I hadn’t been all that excited to walk in the dark. It wasn’t the two-legged bogeyman I worried about as much as the four-legged ones.

The walk is usually felt quick, but the drive seems like nothing. I sit quietly the whole way. What am I supposed to say? I feel like I’d been clubbed over the head the entire day. Plus, something keeps chewing on my mind. Like there is a door with someone pounding on it, screaming.

We sit in the truck, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see Uriah staring at me. He sits with his back to the door and his leg up on the seat. I have no idea what he’s expecting. What he wants me to say.

“Lills…” he starts to say, but I can hear a tone that makes me feel like I need to give him a warning.

“Something’s wrong with me,” I blurt and then more words just fall out. “I don’t know what it is, or how to put it into words right now, but you need to know. I’m broken, and it’s a kinda broken that glue can’t fix.”

Uriah takes a deep breath and touches my arms. “Lills. Lilly.”

He wants me to look at him, but I just can’t. I know I can’t see those big sparkly green eyes in the dark, but I know they’re there and if I look at him I won’t be able to keep my distance.

“Lilly, look at me.”

“No.” I look out the window and focus on the shadows.

“Why can’t you look at me?” The way his voice sounds, the tenderness in it, pricks at me.

I close my eyes and purse my lips, keeping my face away from him. If I cry in this truck, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.

“Lills, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I’m here.” There’s that caramel again. Just hot enough to stick on your fingers. “I know it’s been a while, but there’s something here. I feel it.”

I peel my eyes from the shadows and look at him. The half moon is hitting the paint on the hood of the truck, bouncing off, and illuminating his face. My heart flutters. Even in the dark, Uriah is perhaps the best definition of good-looking I’ve ever known.

“I’m a good listener, you know? That’s most of what an Army chaplain does, listen.”

“I don’t have the words, Uriah. I don’t have the words. I don’t even know what it is I’d need the words for, right now.”

“But you’ll talk to me when you find them, right?” He locks eyes with me. It’s the same way when we were kids. The way he had of making anyone feel like they were Goldilocks and he was the porridge that was just right.

“I don’t know.” I pull my eyes away from him and look down at my hands in my lap.

Quick as lightning, Uriah moves and he’s sitting right next to me with his arm around my shoulder. “Even if this goes nowhere, Lilly, even if all we get out of it is being really good friends for the rest of our lives, I want you to know I’m here. According to the Army, I’ve got perfect hearing too.”

Clearly the Army doesn’t have enough tests because his hearing isn't the only thing that’s perfect. When I twist to look at him, his breath hits my cheek. Even with taco breath, my insides feel like wax under a blowtorch.

He seems so open, so put together, so…Uriah, only more mature. I can’t help but nod my head and say, “Okay.”

Those big Army conditioned arms envelop me in a hug so gentle, if I were a muffin all my stuffin’ would still be intact. His lips move against my hair. “Lilly, it’s going to be okay. I don’t know how, or when, or anything, but I know it’s going to be okay.”

Oh, Papa, please don’t make me cry in this truck with Uriah holding me like this. Whatever bad horrible thing I’ve done will only be worse if I hurt him. What if you can’t fix me? What if my kind of broken is the kind that jabs people and makes them bleed? I can’t handle another clean-up on aisle six. Especially not Uriah Pendleton.

Uriah doesn’t let go for a long time and for the first time in years I feel like someone is pressing me together so hard I might just mend. It feels so good to be wanted and warm. I search my mind for a time when I’ve felt wanted and there’s nothing but a blank.

I know mamma and daddy loved me, right? So why do I feel like this? If I’ve never felt wanted, how do I know what it feels like? Is this wanted or just something else I don’t have a definition for?

Eventually, I stand on the stairs watching him leave, the cold air works its way into my pores so deep I’m shivering by the time I walk in my door.

I stand in the dark living room, my mind a whirl like those dark clouds earlier today. My breath comes out in puffs. Evidently, I didn’t turn the heat on before I left and in true Texas April form, it’s freezing in the cabin. A shiver runs down my spine into my toes so I fumble in the dark for the light switch and flick it on.

It was bright enough earlier I didn’t need a light, now in the dark, I needed light as only one bulb seemed to be functioning. Tomorrow, I will walk into town and get more. I count at least six between the living room and kitchen as I walk to the thermostat, setting it in the seventies. At this point, I care less about the gas bill and more about my impending venture as an icicle.

On my way to the bedroom, I flick the light off in the living room and hit the switch in the bedroom. Make that ten bulbs. I dress for bed in the moonlight, thankful this cabin sits out of town in the woods because of the lack of curtains over the windows. The sliding glass doors are big and the moonlight covers the whole room in a hazy light.

I stand at the doors for a moment taking in the woods surrounding the place. If this was an ocean, the cabin would be my life preserver, I guess. I know Uriah said I’m not alone. I hear the words blazing in my brain, but they don’t stop the feeling.

The next morning,
Papa has decided it should be bright and sunny, with a side of loud birds. Worst. Alarm Clock. Ever. I like birds, just not this early. Even if early is not all that early as I roll to look at the alarm clock and its red block numbers are telling me it’s nearly noon.

I stretch so long and hard my toes peek out the end of my blanket. My shoulders, spine, and neck crack in a couple of spots. The bed is lumpy and uncomfortable, but I slept like a stone in a creek. How, I’ll never know other than maybe my body and mind were so tired a bed made of needles would have worked just as well.

For a moment, I roll on my side and pull the covers up over my head with my eyes peeking out looking through the glass doors. The birds are still loud, but I’m less cranky so they don’t bother me as much. That is until a woodpecker decides to drill a tree right outside the window. I take my cue from Woody, and throw the covers off and hang my legs over the side of the bed.

My stomach gurgles and groans and I frown. My list of to-dos didn’t include grocery shopping yesterday. If I recall correctly when I was putting up my stuff yesterday, I’ve stuffed a drawer with some fruit bars and the thought propels me off the bed and in the direction of the kitchen.

The floor boards thud as my bare feet hit them. On the way to the fruit bar-filled drawer, I stop by the thermostat and dial it down a notch. Life in Texas. One moment you're freezing to death, the next minute you’re considering stripping.

I find the drawer full of bars, rip one open, and read the package: a slice of heaven in your mouth. Heaven is not what I experience when I bite into it. I rake the bite off my tongue with my finger and look at the rest of the bar. Tasting moldy armpit had not been on my bucket list, but at least now I can check it off.

Then I remember the bag of tacos Uriah handed me before I got out of the truck last night. “Thanks, Tish,” I say and pull the handle of the fridge. The tacos are cold, but the aroma makes my stomach grumble even louder.

I snag the bag and pull a chair out to the deck. The legs squeak and bump on the wood floor as I drag it behind me. With my feet on the railing and my butt in the chair, I unwrap a taco and take a greedy bite. Cold or not, the taco tastes great and if I compare it to the armpit fruit bar, it’s downright delicious.

Birds flit and flirt in the canopy of the trees. Woody is still pounding away on the pine tree. His red head is bright against the trunk of the tree. He stops for a moment and points his little beak at me like he’s trying to decide if my head might be a good place to pound away for a while. I guess he decides against it because he starts back on the tree. “You're a loud little sucker, arn’tcha?” I say to him. Woody just hammers down.

As I unwrap my second taco, I fling the crumbs of the first one onto the deck, away from me. Maybe I can make friends with the birds. I bite into the second taco with a realization I’m not as hungry as I was and cold tacos aren’t nearly as delicious the second time around. I almost wrap it back up, but I’ve come this far so why not finish it. By the time I’m done, I’m wishing I hadn’t been so persistent.

A light tap at the door breaks my attention on the birds I’m watching. I look over my shoulder and Bo is standing at the door. I can see him through one of the glass panels framing the door. “Come on in,” I yell and look back at the birds.

He stops on his way to the deck and grabs a chair, picking it up instead of dragging it. The legs hit the deck with a thud. “Good morning, good looking. How are you today?”

I cut my eyes to him. “What?”

“You feeling any better?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.” It sounds more curt than I plan.

“Don’t go biting my head off, Ms. James.”

“Sorry, it came out wronger than I planned.”

The bag of tacos sits next to the leg of my chair, and Bo reaches down and digs one out. “Tacos for lunch?”

“Breakfast. I just woke up.”

“Any good?”

“Are you hungry?”

“Starved.”

“Then, they’re delicious.”

Bo looks at the taco warily.

“I got some fruit bars you could sue for false advertisement.” I hook a thumb in the direction of the kitchen.

“I’ll stick with the taco.” Bo unwraps it and picks off the wilted lettuce.

“Huh, I didn’t even think to do that.”

“Can’t stand lettuce and wilted lettuce is even worse.”

Of course, I knew that. I’ve known Bo since forever and lettuce might as well be a machete-wielding El Chupacabra. “You know, it’s not evil.”

“Says you.” He finishes picking off the lettuce and inspects it for any lingering tiny green monsters. When he’s satisfied the lettuce is gone he takes a bite and noisily chews. “Good stuff,” he says with his mouth full.

“Told ya.”

Bo pauses eating a moment. “I think I may have persuaded Judge Kringle to let your car go.”

That news should excite me, but I kinda like being chauffeured by Uriah. “Yeah?” I wiggle my toes as a breeze blows by.

The taco wrapper buzzes and Bo grabs it so it doesn’t fly off. “Yeah, but it would be more convincing if Chrissy backed me up. She said you didn’t talk at all in therapy.”

“It’s Chrissy, Bo. I’ve known her since we could play shirtless in a kiddie pool.”

Bo laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah, but she’s what you’ve got and if you have any intentions of ever going back to Austin, she’ll need to sign off on you.”

I rake a hand through my hair and the legs of my chair crack as I drop my feet on the deck. “I see her tomorrow. I’ll try. I just don’t know if I can.”

“You could always talk to me, ya know? Best friend, Bo?”

I balance my elbows on my knees and drop my head in my hands. I’ve got all kinds of offers to talk, but what I can’t seem to make anyone understand is that I don’t know what to say. I’m grateful for the offers, but it seems like beating my head against a concrete wall. Instead of saying something hateful, I nod and lean back in the chair. “I know and if something changes I’ll let you know.”

Bo finishes off the taco, reaches down, and digs in the bag for another. He works it over like the last and takes a bite. “Ugh. Not as good as the first.”

“Would you have believed me if I’d told you that?”

He flings the wilted lettuce over the railing and picks at the taco filling. “Probably not. How can the first one taste so good and not the second one?”

“Got me,” I say and eye the taco. “I suffered through and ate the second one. I’ve got a long while until the potluck tonight.”

“Martha Goldman is still bringing that God-awful mac and cheese.”

“Who eats it?”

“I don’t know, but the bowl is clean at the end of the dinner every time.”

“Someone has to be raking it in the trash to save her feelings. That’s the only possible explanation.”

Bo throws his head back and laughs. After last night, it’s even squishier today. I can’t seem to keep my thoughts from drifting to Uriah. His bright green eyes, electric smile, and throaty laugh tickle my throat, my stomach and give me goosebumps. I rub my arms to try to erase the evidence, but I’m too late.

“You cold?”

I pull my sleeves down and cover my hands with the cuffs. “Not really.”

He points to my now covered arms. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

His phone starts beeping, and he pulls it out of his tailored jacket pocket. “Oh, time for me to go. Short lunch. Got some sixth graders to impress today.”

I look at him funny.

“I told Becky Martin I’d come in and talk to the kids. She’s doing a section on law in history class.”

“She still giving you those looks like she did in high school?”

Bo cuts his eyes at me like I’ve broached a sensitive topic. “Yeah.”

I smile.

“I’ll pick you up tonight if you want to go to the potluck at church.”

“Already got a ride.”

“Who?”

“Uriah Pendleton.”

Bo stands and looks down at me. The way the sun is shining through the trees it gives him a halo like he’s some angel sent to rescue me, but he’s not Uriah. He harumphs.

“What?” I ask.

“Of course, he’s picking you up. He’s crushed on you since we were kids.”

“You knew?”

“You didn’t?”

“No.”

Bo shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Lillian James, you are the most clueless person I’ve ever known.”

That doesn’t set right with me and I prickle with anger. “Maybe I just didn’t want to know. Maybe I wanted to be clueless. You ever think of that? Maybe I thought if I knew I couldn’t leave this town and leaving this town was what I needed most at the time?”

“Well, you’re back now, and those of us left in your wake, are still trying to piece together what happened to you and why you left and never came back.”

I sigh and I can feel the water pooling in my eyes. Bo seems to notice and his stance softens.

“I’m sorry, Lilly,” he says and checks his phone again. “I gotta go. I’ll see you later.”

In my head, I say, “Yeah, later,” and he leaves before I realize I didn’t say it out loud.