Authors: Ann Garner
Pieces of Me
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.
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.
“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 really
think you should come back home with us and go to school where we can keep an
eye on you.”
“Mom.”
“Rachel,
she's a grown woman, leave her alone.”
She
twists her hands together in front of her and casts a quick glance to Grace,
who is trying desperately to pretend she can't hear us.
