What's Left of Me (Finally Unbroken Book 2) (5 page)

I walk back into the community center slightly dazed. Luckily or unluckily—as the case may be right about now—Sarah is on hand to snap me out of it, seemingly waiting for my return.

“Tell me everything!” she demands, gripping onto my forearm when I’m no more than two steps in through the door. I roll my eyes, but follow her lead to the coffee room as she tugs on my arm, pushing the scratchy knit material into my skin. It’s better to get this done. I still have cleaning to finish. Pushing us both down on the soft chairs, that sit out of place in the coffee room.

This area is bare, necessities are the only things gracing the counter tops. The two chairs we sit in were donated. We had a young woman come here—she was isolated after being attacked—and with Sarah’s help, she got better learning to live in the real world. Her parents were grateful and they were also rich. That year we didn’t have to find the fifty thousand dollars that we barely scrape together every year, just to keep this place running. We also found ourselves with a few new items. These two chairs being some of the goods that were given.

Placing my arms along the edges of the seat, I scrunch the soft, luxurious brown material in between my fingers. It’s a silly comfort I know well. Even when I lived at home with my parents, we never had anything as grand as these. I’ve been known, on occasion, to come and sit in one of these chairs after my day is done. Needing some peace and quiet, and very aware that when Amber’s not there, the house I live in is not even close to being a real home. The lack of anything warm or inviting in the small space doesn’t help in filling me with the comfort and homeliness that I crave so desperately.

“It was… strange.”

“Strange? What kind of an answer is that?” Sarah replies, looking slightly deflated. She juts her bottom lip out and blows up, fanning her bangs away from her face. At nearly forty-three, Sarah has it going on. With her tiny, almost pixie-like frame, and platinum blonde hair to match, she just needs wings to be an extra in a
Tinkerbell
movie. The years have been good to her skin. Always using moisturizer, she says. But I’ve seen her mom, I know she just lucked out and has good genes.

I pull my lips to one side of my face and scrunch up my nose. “I don’t know what exactly happened. It was… strange,” I murmur.

“There’s that word again.” She blows up at her bangs once more and I stand up, reaching into my pocket and pulling out two spare bobby pins. “Thanks.” She winks at me and puts one pin in her front teeth while using the other to pull some of the overly long hair—that’s about a month overdue a cut, and the reason why it’s getting into her eyes—between her fingers and clips it out of the way. “So start from the beginning. What happened?” she asks through her teeth, the second pin still sticking out. And even though she looks like
Tinkerbell
right now, she reminds me of the wild animals on those shows, picking the carcasses of their prey from between their teeth.

“He took me for a coffee. He said his first thought for coming here was to ask for help, in the form of one-on-one sessions with me.”

Sarah raises her eyebrows and makes a groaning sound.

“Woman! You’re supposed to be a dang counselor!” My exasperated voice is only bettered slightly by my hands, which I throw into the air in an
‘I don’t believe you’
pose.

Sarah laughs, slapping her hands on her thighs. “Girl, I’m not in counselor mode right now. I’m fully immersed in girlfriend mode. If I couldn’t differentiate between my work and my personal life, I’d have no friends,” she tells me throwing her arm out with flare and jingling the different colored bangles she always wears up her arm.

“Okay,” I giggle. “Calm down.” The humor infused into my tone is something Sarah always manages to bring out in me, it’s one of the reasons we’ve been friends since I met her. I never laughed much, not after Rocco and Larissa. “Anyway, while he was talking about me helping him, something changed. I have no idea what, I could just see his features… they morphed, they became soft. He looked at me like—”

“Like?” she demands.

“Like he could see me. Like he saw into my soul.” I shake my head. “God, I sound ridiculous,” I chastise myself.

“Stop. Don’t do that, don’t belittle what you felt. It doesn’t matter whether it was there or not, it only matters that
you
felt it. It was tangible to
you
Laurie, so it
did
exist, it
did
happen,” she says softly, moving her head down to catch my eyes, which I’d direct to the floor.

“Separating your work and personal life, huh?” I ask smugly.

Sarah rolls her eyes. “Well, if you’re going to talk stupid, then I need to bring out my other side,” she tells me and I giggle again.

My giggles stop abruptly when I think back to his words. “He said I have demons that I need to work through, things I’m hiding from.” I glance to her face, expecting to see shock, or maybe a frown. Instead, her eyes are cast downward and her mouth is pinched. “Sarah?” Her name is a question on my lips as an unease spreads through me.

“I’m sorry girl, I hate to say this, but that man can see through the front you have in place.”

“What?” the whisper drops from my lips as my eyes widen.

“I agree with him. You have issues, I believe that to be true. But baby girl, you are
not
ready to face them.”

I stand up so quickly, I’m almost shocked. “I do
not
have issues,” I hiss out between my clenched teeth.

“Yep. That’s what I figured your response would be. Sit down Laurie, tell me what else he said,” she coaxes me. Her face is a cover, soft and placid, I’ve seen her use this face when she’s needed to help the most vulnerable or scared of our visitors. Kids who don’t want to talk, but desperately need help.
Is that how she sees me?
I sit back down, feeling uneasy, I’m just not sure why.

“He changed the subject. Asked if he could help out here,” I explain her, watching her face closely. Sarah nods at me. “Stop it,” I snap.

“Stop what?” her tone is level, all the character that I usually hear in her voice has gone.

“Stop being a shrink. I hate it,” I complain looking at the floor once again.

“Hey girl, I’m sorry, it’s hard to pull myself away from it sometimes. After all, this is also part of me,” she tells me and I feel bad for snapping at her.

I cross my arms over my body and rub the tops of my arms up and down. Sarah’s eyes follow my hands, watching my movements. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, I stop and bring my hands back to my lap.

“Anyway, he’s coming tomorrow, he’s going to sit with the old folks,” I explain.

Her eyes light up at that statement. “Oh wow! That will be great. They have hardly any interaction,” she says jubilantly.

I just nod. It’s true, no one really cares about the old folks. They live in a home about two miles away, and come here three times a week, just to get away from there. We lay on as much as we can for them, but in truth, it’s probably not any better than being at the home. Having someone new to talk to will hopefully bring them out of their shells.

“I better get back to the cleaning,” I say, standing.

Sarah stands with me, catching my arm before I walk away. “Listen, Laurie. You don’t want to hear this, and I get it, you’re not ready. But just know that I’m here if you need me. We all have things that we hide from one another. Sometimes small things, sometimes huge. What most of us forget… choosing instead to hide them, even from ourselves… is that these things… they all make you who you are. Without them, you’d be a different version of yourself. Not better, not worse, just different. That’s okay too, being different. Sometimes we need to move into different, just to move forward. The main thing is that you’re not scared. That you surround yourself with people who love you. One person or one hundred… it doesn’t matter. Just knowing that someone’s there who loves you, and will catch you should you fall. That person can help you become who you want. That person can give you freedom from your own chains.” Her eyes search mine, pleading with me to hear her, and I do, I just don’t want to admit it out loud. So I pull my arm from her grip and walk away. Ignoring the pain that has started to bubble up from the pit of my stomach, ever since Ruben Asher came back into my damn life and brought back all my truths.

“Uncle Wuben, can we puway wiff da hamsterwer.” Mandie’s words are mumbled. At four, I’m not sure whether this is how she should speak or not. I look to Anabel, who rolls her eyes at me.

“She asked if you could both play with Lucky, the hamster,” she explains pointing to the little brown and white furry ball, which sits trembling in the corner of a wired cage. My eyes move from the terrified creature to Anabel and Danny’s oldest child, Amanda—lovingly nicknamed Mandie. Then my eyes graze across the thick, cream, shag-pile carpet until they reach Clara, their nearly two-year-old terror. Currently proving my point, with a carrot stick, that she seems to be trying to shove up the ass of a toy duck. Can’t say the duck looks impressed, plastic or not.

I move my gaze back to Mandie. “Sure, baby doll, you wanna get him out for me?” I ask.

“Nah-uh, Mama says it has to be a groaned up.” Her little girl hands are on her hips, and with the sass she has, even at four, she reminds me of Anabel, who promptly chuckles at her daughter.

“Okay.” I sigh and reach in to get the fuzzy mass. I pull him up and into my hand, holding him gently while he continues to tremble away. Mandie reaches over slowly and softly strokes his fur the correct way, telling me that’s how she’s been shown, and that I should do the same. After a few minutes I start to loosen up, Mandie is obviously a pro at looking after the little rodent nestled in my palm. He seems to have stopped shivering, which I’m taking as a good sign. Then without warning Clara picks up a xylophone throwing it from her chubby little fingers straight across the room. Now
that
child is one hundred percent her daddy. The noise startles Lucky, who simultaneously craps in my hand while biting my finger.

“Ahh, shit!” I shout, tipping my hand up the other way, but instead of the little beast dropping to the floor, he hangs from my hand, his teeth piercing my finger as he holds on for dear life.

“Mind your mouth!” Anabel shouts.

“Fuck that shit! This little fucker won’t let go! Fuck!” I yell, waving my hand around, trying to dislodge the damn animal. Nothing seems to be working. Anabel gives me a dirty look as she steps over to where I’ve ended up, taking over, trying to pry the little bastard from my hand. Things don’t get any easier when Mandie says
‘Fuck that shit,’
followed by Clara getting up, her podgy little legs pushing her forward as she tries to run to the now broken xylophone, saying
‘Fuck’
repeatedly, over and over and over again, the whole way across the room.

Once Anabel has removed the cling-on, she slaps me upside the head. “Go get your hand cleaned up dickwad, this isn’t over,” she hisses quietly to me.

Four hours later and Anabel has forgiven me… just. Danny just raises his eyebrows as she retells the story to him. We’re sitting once again in their back yard, I’m freezing my balls off but also following the lead of my friends.

“So what did you come here for today?” Anabel asks. It’s a fair question. I’ve been here for half the day and haven’t said why. Let’s face it, the house has been too chaotic.

I sit back and take a swig of my water. “I went back to see Laurie.”

“What! Why? What’s going on?” Danny interrupts.

“Danny shhh! I filled you in yesterday remember?” Anabel grumbles waving her hand at him to shut up while still looking at me.

I chuckle to myself as Danny gives me the finger. “I saw that,” Anabel snaps and Danny’s lips twitch. “Go on,” she urges me.

“Nothing really.” I shrug.

“Nothing?” Her face moves into a frown and she leans forward slightly. “Elaborate, Ruben,” she demands and I smirk for a second before I think about Laurie’s reaction to what I’d said yesterday and my smile drops.

“I told her, I think that she has demons. One’s she hasn’t faced yet.”

“Oh, I bet she just loved you,” Anabel says shaking her head laughing.

“What? What did I do?” I ask.

“Oh, Ruben. You haven’t seen her for eighteen months and you didn’t exactly end things well. Now you waltz back into her life, actually no, into one of her sessions. You’ve probably thrown her completely by being there, and then you run out, only to go back and tell her you think
she
has issues.” Anabel stares at me.

“Shit,” I groan, allowing my head to flop backward, realizing what an absolute dick I’ve been.

“Ruben there’s something else I want to say.” I look back to her. “Listen, you can always come to Danny or me, we’ll always be here for you. Especially if you want to talk about Amanda. But as far as I can see you’re there now.”

“There?” I question.

“Yeah.
There.
You’re ready to move on. Find someone else. You’re pretty much healed, and anything else past this point can’t come from us. It can only come from you, and from whoever you give your heart to. Trust in them and trust in you.”

I sigh, but nod. I know she’s right. I think about Amanda and she’ll always have a place in my heart, a part of me will always love her, but I’m ready to move on now. I never thought I would be, but here I am. Now, I just need to allow myself that freedom.

The next morning I find myself standing outside of the community center. I’m hopping from foot to foot awkwardly, partly because it’s freaking cold and partly because I’m unsure what to do next. The lack of self-confidence is something I’m not used to, always having bravado, especially with women—that was
before Amanda
. After I had lost her, alcohol was my crutch. For the four years that I relied on it, I didn’t need confidence, because I didn’t care about anything or anyone, even myself. The final part of my journey, before coming back here, has been to get clean and to try and work all my issues out. The confidence I once had hasn’t been needed for so long, I’m worried I don’t know how to really interact with unfamiliar people nowadays.

I haven’t done anything substantial in my company for so long. Danny hired a guy—David—

and he’s been running things. I get weekly updates, as did Danny until recently, now I’m trying to take a more active role again. I’ve also not been with a woman since Amanda. I’ve not even thought about it, until now. Too stuck in the past, or wallowing in my own self-pity.

Kicking a stone, I glance around.
Come on Ruben, suck it up
.

“Hey. You’re Ruben, right?” I hear from the side of me. So consumed with my own thoughts, I didn’t see the little pixie-like woman, the same woman that got Laurie for me when I came here yesterday.

“Oh, yeah, hey,” I say with a half-smile.

“You don’t have to look so nervous, sugar. I don’t bite… mostly,” she tells me with a smirk.

She’s joking… I think
.

“I’m Sarah, come on, I’ll show you around,” she says, tucking her small arm through mine, a rattling coming from all the jewelry she has running up her wrist.

I take in the center as Sarah drifts from room to room with me alongside her. The passion she has for the place is evident in everything she does.

“This is where the elderly folk are,” she tells me, as we step into the only room she hasn’t yet introduced me to. Immediately, I notice that no one moves as we enter. Not a single one of the ten seniors looks up in acknowledgment, or even curiosity, wondering who’s just entered the room.

“What’s wrong with them?” my whisper brings Sarah’s gaze to mine.

“Come,” she suggests, stepping back through the door. “Let’s go to the coffee room.” I nod and follow.

Pointing me to a chair when we walk into the bare room, she moves to the coffee pot. “You have to understand…” Sarah begins her back to me while making our coffees. As I listen to her, I look around, taking in the depressing room. A room that’s supposed to be an escape from daily work. “The old folks come here to get away from Meadow Senior Living, but they don’t really have anything different here than there.” She turns and brings our coffees to us, taking the seat next to me.

“Why?” I ask simply.

Sarah shrugs her shoulders. “Funding mainly. But it’s more than that. We don’t have enough people to volunteer. Me, Laurie, and Derick are the only ones who get paid. We’ve had people come and go over the years, doing stints of volunteering, but nobody ever sticks around for long. Makes things harder… you know?”

I don’t really know, so I say nothing in response.

“Is Laurie here?” my words are almost whispered.

“Damn, sugar, you got it bad,” Sarah comments smacking me across the knee. “She’ll be here soon, probably doing something with Amber.”

“Amber?” I ask.

“Nuh-uh, her life, her stories, if she wants to share, that’s on her.”

I nod and grin. Many a woman I’ve known would gladly spill her friend’s shit. Good to know that some women can keep that stuff tight, and more, Laurie has that in Sarah.

“Right sugar, as much fun as it is spending time with you, I have work to do. A counselor always has work to do,” she tells me with a wink. “I’ll take you down to the seniors, introduce you, then just be yourself. Chat or watch television with them, whatever you feel comfortable with. When Laurie comes in, I’ll point her in your direction and she can have a chat with you about your plans here.” I nod again and follow her down the dingy hall, wondering how different it would be if this place were somewhere that brightened the spirits of people who desperately needed it. All the while knowing, it’s not just the visitors that need their days brightening and it’s not just the visitors days that I want to brighten.