A Shattered Heart

  I was in the process of squirting paint on my palette when a flash of metal in the sun caught my eye. Squinting in the bright sunlight, I spotted a wheelchair rolling along the paved path. I watched it wind along the path heading toward the section where I was. It didn't take much effort to recognize the occupant of the wheelchair. Even huddled against the side of the chair, a shadow of the vibrant person he used to be, I recognized him. His football physique was long gone. Maybe I wouldn't have noticed if not for my recent time with Brian, who was the epitome of health. The closer he got, the more shrunken he looked. I debated packing up my stuff and leaving before he reached the part of the path near me. I still had time. I could have left and he would never know. It would be so easy to flee like I'd done time and time again. I'd been a fool to think I could be this close to home without running into the past.

  My feet were rooted, ignoring the messages my brain was trying to send them. They refused to let me leave. I realized a small part of me was morbidly fascinated what his response to me would be. I placed my paint palette on the ground on top of my sketchpad as I waited for him to be wheeled where I stood. Irony. Zach had once been chauffeur to all of us, but now he relied on someone else to shuttle him around.

  As he was pushed closer I could see his head was down. It was obvious he couldn't care less about the walk he was on or the nurse who was chattering away as she pushed his chair. I felt waves of pity for him. He was forced to endure everything she said. He couldn't escape like I could.

  The chair drew closer and I began to wonder if he would even look up. Maybe he would roll right by me, never knowing I was there. A large part of me hoped for just that. Seeing him up close like this—broken and almost small in a wheelchair—was like a shovel to the face. Zach had been a star at one time. His ego should have been huge. By all rights he could have dumped all of us years ago. The football crew he played with never understood his attachment to our motley crew. Out of all of us only Jessica had come close to his popularity, but in truth even she was light years away. Zach never left us though. Friends for life had been our motto. We were naive assholes.

  Zach was now less than five yards away from me, his eyes were downcast and I knew he would roll by without seeing me. My tongue moved to call out to him but my brain refused to send it the signal.

  Two yards away. I could now hear the words of the nurse. She was talking about some television show. A soap opera. Poor Zach.

  One yard away and I knew I was going to let him roll by without a word. It was a chicken move. I was like the heroine in a movie who everyone hated. I had balls of steel when it came to fighting but I was like a scared kitten when I was confronted with my past.

  The chair was now even with me. Maybe it was his nurse's greeting to me as she went to pass or maybe he just knew. At the last second he lifted his head. His hands reached out with a quickness that surprised both his nurse and me as he stopped the chair. His eyes clashed with mine and I saw he was plagued by demons also.

  I'm not sure what I'd been expecting when I spied his downcast head. Maybe defeat. His eyes were not defeated though, they were oceans of torment. Zach's demons were much worse than my own.

  "Zach, you need to warn me when you want to stop," his nurse chastised, picking up her water bottle that had fallen.

  "Leave," Zach growled, not even looking at her.

  "What?" she stammered. She looked at me, trying to figure out my importance to her patient.

  "Go. I can make it home on my own." he stated, keeping his hands on the wheels.

  "Your mother…" she stuttered.

  "My mother knows how I feel about having a caregiver. I will deal with her," he clipped out, not sounding at all like the Zach I once knew.

  She looked unsure so I gave her a nod to indicate I would make sure he got home.

  Zach maneuvered his chair so he was on the grass under the tree where I stood. I watched as his arms strained to get the chair into place. I took a small step forward to help him but his glare stopped me in my tracks. It was clear he wanted to do this on his own. I stood idly by, feeling out of place. I should have left when I had a chance. Zach was a flashing reminder of the accident. He was the one who deserved all the blood money we'd gotten. There was a time I'd been angry at him. Furious at the part he'd played in the accident. I'd rationalized that Dan would still be alive if Zach wasn't driving, but that reasoning couldn't have been further from the truth. The accident wasn't Zach's fault. He used to be annoyingly safe. Insisting we all buckle up before he would even start his old Suburban. Blaming Zach wasn't the answer.

  "What are you doing?" he finally asked when his chair was off the path.

  "Is that a metaphorical question?" I countered.

  "Why are you here at this park?" he emphasized the word.

  "Painting," I said, stating the obvious.

  "I heard you wanted nothing to do with us," he bit out, glaring at me.

  I sucked in a breath. Mackenzie had told him about my visit. I was surprised, considering she was shacking up with another guy. His eyes widened with shock when I said as much. I didn't blame him. My words were cruel. Nothing like kicking a man when he was down.

  He surprised me again by barking out a harsh laugh. "You know about Mackenzie's EMT?"

  Knife to the heart. EMT. An EMT had pronounced Dan dead while I dangled upside down in my seat. An EMT had pulled me away before I could reach for Dan. That EMT ignored my pleas that eventually changed to screams of rage as I fought to get back to Dan. I needed to touch him at least one more time, but they'd whisked me away from him. They'd taken the decision out of my hands and had given me a shot that made the world disappear around me. By the time I woke it was too late. His parents opted for a closed casket because of the damage to his face. I pleaded with them to let me see him before they laid him to rest, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. Everyone was convinced my grief was dictating my pleas.

  "Man, I thought I was the one who was seriously fucked up, but I got nothing on you," Zach said, watching the play of emotions on my face. "Shouldn't you be over it all by now?"

  It took me a minute to pull myself away from the memory and register his words were meant to hurt. He wanted me to bleed. He had no idea the buckets of blood I'd bled over the last two years. My organs had drowned in the blood. His words barely nicked a vein. "Please, you're way more fucked up than me," I said. My knees shook, betraying my words. They quaked like I'd just finished a ten-mile run. "You can't even go to a park without a babysitter." Take that knife. It was a duel of words. More deadly than actual swords.

  He glared at me. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't remember you being such a selfish bitch."

  Slice across the face.

  I laughed without humor. "Selfish?" I sputtered. "Did you suffer brain damage also? It's called survival."

  His shoulders slumped at my words. "Yeah, I get that. You still miss him?"

  "Until the day I die," I said. "At times I wish I would have died too. I think I should have. I don't think our hearts are rightfully equipped to handle certain losses." It was the most candid I'd been since the accident.

  "Yeah, I wished for death for a long time," Zach said, pounding a fist against his useless legs.

  "At least you had Mackenzie," I said without thinking. Selfish bitch strikes again. I slapped a hand across my mouth, but the words were already out there. "I'm sorry. I forgot. She's a bitch for leaving you. Dan could have been a paraplegic and I wouldn't have left him."

  Zach's face was pinched with pain. He closed his eyes, swiping a hand against the closed lids. It was too soon. I should have kept my mouth closed.

  Zach kept his eyes closed for several minutes. I could sense he was trying to regain some sort of dignity. I looked away, giving him a small measure of privacy.

  "You shouldn't hate Mackenzie, Kat. There's things you don't know," Zach finally said, opening his eyes. "There are times I think she suffered just as much as both of us, if not more."

  I snort
ed with disbelief. "Please, she's obviously moved on. Doesn't sound like she's suffering very much to me."

  "It took her a long time to get there. I think the others would be ashamed of you and me," he admitted, putting his hands on the wheels of his chair. He pushed hard against them to get them up over the small lip of the path. I stood up to help him but he waved me off. "I'd say it was nice to see you again, but I don't think either of us feels that way," he said, making it on the path. "I'm not sure we'll ever feel that way again. I know Mackenzie wants us to. I've been so busy the last two years feeling sorry for myself to notice much else. I'm sorry for that now. The others didn't get the chance to live like we did." He choked on the last words and a lump moved to my throat. "I'll see you around, Kat. You should go see Mac, that's her name now. I know she misses you."

  It took Zach a long time to disappear from sight. I watched him the entire time. I could have gotten up and helped him, but I sensed he wouldn't have allowed it. His words hung in the air around me. He was in a better place than I was. Forgiving Mackenzie for leaving him must have been a big step, and he'd taken it. I wasn't as forgiving.

  I packed up my things as soon as Zach disappeared from sight. I no longer had any desire to paint. My muse was long gone. Our exchange had left me feeling off. Everything about my body felt heavy as if I was being pushed into the ground by gravity. I tossed my bag into the passenger seat of my car and slumped behind the wheel with no destination in mind. I could go home but mentally shook my head. I didn't want to face my bleak apartment. I could visit Mom and Dad, but that felt like a chore I was incapable of handling today. Fred's was always an option, but I didn't feel like drinking today. In an old life, I would have called my friends and we would have headed for the beach or something in that capacity.

  Coming up blank, I decided I might as well head home. My cell phone dinged with an incoming message as I started the car.

  "Want to hang out?"

  A lifeline. I smiled with relief reading the four little words. Brian still had my number.

  I debated telling him I was busy. I was raw from my encounter with Zach. Did I want to torture myself further?

  The answer was yes since my fingers typed out "what do you have in mind?" before my brain and heart could reach a compromise.

  "I have a few errands to run."

  "You want me to run errands with you?" I typed, feeling skeptical.

  "Just two. You'll have fun. Trust me."

  "O-k-a-y," I typed, dragging it out so he could see my doubtfulness.

  "Pick you up at your place in twenty."

  "Give me thirty. I'm not at home," I typed back, putting the car in reverse.

  My phone dinged again but I didn't check it. I might drive like I have a death wish, but I would never ever use my phone while I was driving. I was a poster kid of why that was a bad idea.

  I pulled into my usual parking spot in front of my apartment exactly twenty-nine minutes later. Brian was already there in his jeep. Carlos called out to me as I climbed out of my car and I gave him a wave but headed for the passenger side of Brian's jeep.

  "Who is that?" Brian asked, frowning in Carlos' direction.

  "Community drug dealer," I quipped, climbing into the bucket seat.

  Brian shot me a look, gauging whether I was messing with him. I shrugged. "He doesn't nose around in my business, and I extend the same courtesy to him," I said as he shook his head.

  "Man, I can't believe your parents let you live here. Da..." His voice trailed off but his words were toxic to the air that filled his jeep, even with the breeze blowing in through our open windows. Without finishing his sentiment I knew what he was going to say. He was right. Dan would have never allowed my current living situation. It was a moot point though. If Dan were alive I wouldn't be living here in the first place. Our plan all along was to get an apartment to share sophomore year. We would have done it when we were freshmen, but I'd made a promise to my parents I'd give a different college than Dan's a chance. At the time they'd pushed for two years, but that was never going to happen. In the end, separate colleges wasn't even an issue.

  "My parents aren't allowed to dictate my decisions anymore." My voice was as flat as steel, slicing through the thick cloud of unspoken words.

  Brian shot me a look but didn't comment as he pulled out of my less-than-stellar apartment complex. As his jeep bounced over the ruts in the parking lot I couldn't help seeing the area through his eyes. The parking lot was a land mine of broken bottles and debris. Its sad appearance almost seemed cheerful in comparison to the exterior of the buildings with their dull brown walls that resembled dog shit in color. The walkways were cracked or flat out crumbling away. Anything that once was white was now a dingy gray color from years of dirt. I'd been living here almost a year and up until this moment I hadn't given its condemned appearance much thought. The less-than-safe neighborhood had appealed to me. It was a complete one-eighty from what I was used to. Seeing it now with fresh eyes, a small kernel of embarrassment unfurled deep in the pit of my stomach.

  Brian remained quiet as he drove slowly through my neighborhood, avoiding the kids who liked to loiter in the street now that school was out for the summer. Most had a hard look to them as if they'd already given up on life. Seeing a girl roughly my age with a baby on her hip and another kid clinging to her leg waiting at the bus stop in front of my complex, I realized she probably had given up. I envied her though. Adulting sucked sometimes. There was a time when we'd all been ready to tackle it, head-on.

  Graduation night

  "How does it feel to join the adult world?" Dad asked as we all sat down at one long table in the restaurant.

  Jessica stifled a snort at his question. Dad was famous for being philosophical and asking random questions. I rolled my eyes. "Daddy, seriously?" I implored, looking at my mom for help.

  Mom shrugged her shoulders. "It's a fair question," she replied.

  Zach, the diplomat in our group, took a stab at answering. "Well, sir, it feels good."

  "In what sense?" Dad asked, cutting a piece of bread from one of the six loaves the waitress had set on the table.

  Jessica kicked me under the table. We exchanged a look as I groaned. "Shoot me now," I muttered to Dan under my breath.

  Mackenzie disguised her snicker with a cough as her dad patted her on the back. "Come on, Dave. We should probably give the kids a night off before we grill them," he said in his normal jovial way.

  Mackenzie's dad was always the go-with-the-flow type of guy. "Why worry about today when tomorrow is another day" was his motto. His easy, breezy spirit would have driven any woman nuts, but Mackenzie's mom took his attitude in stride. She was the more analytical and practical one in their household. She took charge of the finances and made sure the bills were paid and money for retirement and Mackenzie's education were diligently put aside each month. Mackenzie's dad often joked that he would have to die first because he would be lost without her around. Her dad was a dreamer, which was why he was my favorite of my friends' parents. I understood his "live for today" motto. Maybe it was the artist in me.

  My eyes moved across the table to Brian, who was looking at me with amusement as Dad tried to interject another question about our future into the conversation. I groaned, wishing Dad would give us a break at least tonight. Brian winked at me, opening his mouth to ask Dad a question. Without thinking about it I swung my foot out and kicked him soundly on the shin.

  My kick only seemed to amuse him and Dan, who was adding insult to injury by shaking with silent laughter next to me. I turned to glare at him, but he distracted me by placing a warm hand on my thigh, which was only covered by the thin fabric of the dress I wore.

  At the moment, Mom finally ran interference by changing the subject. I smiled at her gratefully. It wasn't like I was embarrassed. My friends knew my parents as well as I knew theirs. Growing up we all knew if we wanted extra ice cream, Mackenzie's dad was our man. If we wanted to do something outdoorsy, Dan and Bria
n's parents were our go-to parents. My dad was on duty when we needed help. It was a role he was good at, and we were all grateful for it.

  Glancing down the long table at our large party, I realized just how lucky all of us were. Our parents weren't perfect, but they encouraged and supported us. At times they may have even bullied us in the right direction, but it got us to this point. We may not have always gotten everything we thought we wanted, but they never let us down. They showed us if we worked hard, we could achieve anything. "The world is our oyster" was one of Mom's favorite sayings.

  Little did we know, our oysters would be shucked before they could ever produce a pearl. We were nothing but grains of sand blowing away in the wind. Forever lost.

  Eight

  "Where we going?" I asked as Brian drove out of my depressing neighborhood and merged onto the highway.

  "Fun Spot," he answered, heading west on I-4.

  I turned in my seat to look at him. Was he screwing with me now? His jaw gave nothing away as he kept his eyes on the road ahead.

  "Fun Spot?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  He took his eyes off the road long enough to flash me a grin. "Yeah, Fun Spot. Have you been there?"

  "Um, hell no," I answered, sounding like a total snob. His question was ridiculous. We lived in theme park porn. If you wanted to go on thrill rides, you headed to Universal Studios or Busch Gardens. If you wanted a strong dash of nostalgia, you hit one of the Disney Parks, but you definitely didn't go to the tourist trap Fun Spot. I said as much to him as the wind whipped through the open windows blowing my hair into my face.

  "You've been missing out," Brian declared after I laid my theme park analogy out for him. "Fun Spot's not that bad. Plus, you forgot to mention its best attribute," he said, turning his blinker on and moving across two lanes so we could exit.