Broken (10 page)

“Mom, I can’t, okay?” I must have been sharp, because she flinched. “Get off my case about it. I can’t.”

“Fine.” She bent back to her task. “Though I have to say I’m very disappointed in you. I think she could use someone to talk to. She needs you. I’m worried about her….”

“She’s always the one you worry about.” The words, like acid, burned my throat. I sipped my drink to wash away the bitter taste of sibling rivalry, but it wouldn’t go.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” My mother turned, still wielding her fork.

“Nothing. It means nothing.”

I excused myself and sought solace in the den, abandoned at the moment in favor of the places serving food and drink. The small room had once been part of the garage, but my dad had converted it as his domain when I was in high school. The far wall had been built with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with photo albums and paperback novels. I recognized the faux white leather cover of my wedding album, and I yanked it from its place on the shelf.

We’d had a simple ceremony. Struggling on Adam’s meager salary and with my bills for school, we hadn’t had the money or the desire to throw a lavish, traditional wedding. I’d bought my dress from a local thrift store and waitressed to pay for the wedding pictures. We both looked gorgeous.

We looked happy.

Married five years after me, Katie’d planned a vastly different affair. Bridesmaids, formal wear, a cocktail reception and a candlelight service. Both she and Evan had high paying, successful jobs and similar skills in the art of consumption. They’d spared no expense, either from their own pockets or their parents. Even their honeymoon had been lavish and exotic, a two week stay in Greece. Adam and I had gone to Niagara Falls for the weekend and went back to work and school the Tuesday after the wedding.

We’d made different choices, my sister and I. I didn’t envy her the grand, expensive ceremony, or the five thousand dollar wedding dress; those were things that had been unimportant to me. Yet now, as I pulled her far thicker wedding album and laid it next to mine, resentment bubbled up. Not because she’d had her hair and nails done for professional portraits and looked like a princess while my photos weren’t as pretty. And not because she and Evan had served steak and lobster at their reception while Adam and I had been happy with chicken and fish.

She’d always had more. More of my parents’ attention, more friends, more parties, more clothes. More sense of style, more money, more adventures. More of everything but grief.

I didn’t hate my sister, but my mother’s admonishment, not the first and far from the last, had tipped me over an edge upon which I’d been teetering for a long time without knowing it.

I felt like shit about it, too.

I put the albums away. I needed to find my dad, wish him happy birthday and get home. Dennis was great and apparently Adam’s new best buddy, but he still cost time-and-a-half to work weekends, and I wanted to be able to buy a new car before the end of the year.

The books on the shelf had shifted and wouldn’t allow me to replace what I’d removed. Irritated, I shoved them aside to make room for the wedding albums, and in doing so scraped my knuckles. The cut was shallow but bled, and I sucked them with a muttered curse.

“You all right?” said Katie, her belly leading the way as she appeared in the doorway. “Sades?”

“Fine.” I blinked back tears of fury while anger rose in my throat and threatened to choke me. “Just fucking dandy.”

My sister had perfected the art of the pause. “Okay…”

I couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t see her flushed cheeks or the bulge of the baby inside her. A baby I wasn’t having. A joy I didn’t want and wouldn’t ever have. I pushed my hair off my face and straightened my shoulders.

“I’ve got to go home.”

“Hey,” she said. “What’s wrong? Was mom giving you a hard time?”

“No.”

“Jeez, sorry, it looked like she was, that’s all. Sadie, what’s wrong with you?”

It was just the question my mother had wanted me to ask Katie. I looked at her. She gave me a half smile, quizzical. She had no fucking clue.

“Mom wanted me to talk to you. She’s worried about you. Again.”

Katie rolled her eyes. Normally it would have made me feel better, and we might have shared a laugh at my mother’s overconcern. Today it only set my teeth further on edge. She had all the concern in the world, and didn’t need it.

“Yeah, she’s been on me,” she said. “Thinks I’m not taking care of myself, or something. Hey, she takes Lily for me, though. Gives me have some downtime.”

Caring for a grandchild was different than caring for a disabled son-in-law, there was no question of that. Knowing didn’t ease the surge of resentment flooding me. It was irrational, and I could do nothing about it.

“Hey, maybe she’ll watch Lily and we can grab a movie next week?”

“Katie, I told you, I can’t.”

“Oh.” She sighed. “Because of Adam.”

“Yes, because of Adam!” I snapped. “I can’t just leave him alone, Katie!”

“I thought you had someone—”

I cut her off. “Mrs. Lapp leaves at five-thirty and Dennis doesn’t come on duty until nine. It costs me money if they stay with him any other time, okay? It’s expensive, and I’m sorry if I don’t lead the grand lifestyle you’re used to, but that’s the way it is.”

Without giving her time to reply, I shouldered past her. “I have to go.”

“What bug crawled up your ass?” she cried. “God, Sadie, I just thought maybe you could use a break.”

There were two people in my life who’d been able to drive me into a state of white-hot fury. Adam and Katie. The two people I loved most.

“You don’t understand,” I snapped.

“Maybe if you told me about it, I would!”

“You never ask!” Our shouts grew progressively louder.

“You never want to talk about it!” Katie’s fists clenched. “You never talk about him to any of us! We ask you how he’s doing and you give us one word answers, he never comes around anymore and when we go over there he stays upstairs. Lily barely knows him!”

“I never talk about him because none of you like hearing about it! It’s uncomfortable and you’d rather not have all the details! It’s easier for you to just pretend it doesn’t exist. It’s easier for you if I just keep it all to myself!” The cry echoed in the room. Guilt, transparent, flashed over her face and I knew I was right. I also knew I was being unfair.

“Sadie, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I told her, wanting to soften and unable in my misery to manage. “It’s easier for me, too.”

I left and she didn’t call after me. My mother caught me on the way out.

“Sadie Frances, what on earth is going on?”

I stopped, defeated. “I’m sorry, Mom, but I’ve got to go.”

“Did you talk to Katie?” My mom looked past me toward the den.

“She’s fine. You don’t have to worry about her.”

“Of course I do. She’s my daughter.”

“Well,” I answered stiffly. “I’m your daughter, too.”

“Oh, Sadie.” My mom reached to pat my shoulder. “I never have to worry about you. I know you can take care of yourself. Don’t you know that?”

Smart one. Pretty one. The roles we play come back to bite us in the ass. “Yeah, Mom. Okay.”

I wanted to be what she thought I was. What I’d always been. I’d told Katie the truth. It was easier for all of us, in the end, to maintain the status quo. Besides, it was a party. I put a smile on my face, gave my mom a hug and wished my dad a happy birthday. At home, I stood outside Adam’s door for ten minutes, listening to him and Dennis laughing and trying not to hate the world and everything in it.

Elle was silent today, not unusual for her, but not a step forward, either. She fidgeted in her chair, her fingers knotting in her lap. Today she’d gone back to wearing black and white. Definitely a step backward.

“It’s Dan’s mother,” she said finally. Then nothing else.

She rarely spoke of Dan’s family. “What about her?”

“She’s nice.”

Expecting a complaint, I had to think of how to reply. Knowing Elle had a penchant for talking around a subject before she got to the heart of it, I asked, “Do you mean nice as in really nice? Or are you being kind?”

She looked up, her smile guilty. “You know me too well, Dr. Danning.”

“I think that’s the point, isn’t it?” I teased gently, not a tactic for all my patients but one that worked with her.

“Yeah. I guess so.” She sighed, her shoulders tensing for a moment before she made an observable effort to relax them. “No, I mean she’s really nice. Super nice. She’s like…everything a mom should be. Mom Deluxe. She’s Mom Squared.”

“Unlike your mother.”

This earned a laugh from her that she covered with one hand, a guilty gesture, as if she didn’t want to find humor in what I’d said.

“Yes, unlike my own mother.”

“Elle, unless everything you’ve ever told me about your mother has been a lie, I think I am safe in saying she could have used a bit of motherhood training.”

She laughed again, the hand away from her lips this time. “Oh, I won’t argue with that.” She paused. “Do you think I’ve been lying?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Good.” Her brow creased. “Because I haven’t.”

“Good.”

She gave me another look. “Dan’s mother has taken me shopping. She’s offered me her secret recipe for brisket. She’s…um…oh, shit, Dr. Danning, she likes me.”

I let that hang between us for a moment or two.

“And why shouldn’t she?”

She made a wordless noise.

“Elle. Believe me, a lot of women would be glad to have their boyfriend’s mother like them.”

She let her head fall back to stare at the ceiling for a moment.

“Dan doesn’t have any sisters. His mother is thrilled to finally have a daughter. Her words.”

I could guess at the problem, but she needed to be the one to tell me. I waited for her to speak. She rubbed her forehead and shifted in her chair again before finally sighing as though it came all the way from her toes.

“I don’t know how to do it.”

Again, I waited.

“I don’t know how to be a daughter.” The words blurted from her lips and she took a deep breath like she’d been starved for air.

“Do you think she’s got high expectations?”

“Yes!”

Her vehemence startled me. Her fingers tapped the arm of the chair. Watching her consciously smooth the lines of tension in her body was like watching a ball of yarn unravel. One small section at time, she relaxed.

“Why do you think so?”

“She’s always wanted a daughter. Now, all of a sudden, she thinks she’s got one. Don’t you think she’s going to expect long, mother-daughter chats and giggling over shoes?”

“I don’t know Dan’s mother.”

“Well, I do,” Elle said. “And she likes shoes.”

“Don’t you think she likes other things, too? Would it be hard to find something you both enjoy and can connect on?”

“No, I guess not. I’m just not good at that sort of thing.”

She made a funny face and reached for her purse. She pulled out a bundle of fabric. I waited. She made the face again.

“It’s…a sweatshirt.”

“From Dan’s mother?”

She nodded.

“Are you going to let me see it?”

Elle’s sigh came from the toes of her classy black pumps. Fabric unfolded and kept unfolding, until she held up a garment easily large enough to fit two of her. She stood to show me the front of it.

“Oh, my.” I bit my lower lip, not wanting to offend with laughter.

“Kittens,” Elle said in a slightly strangled tone. “Playing with…yarn.”

I had to put my hand over my mouth, and even that didn’t stop the chortle.

“Go ahead and laugh,” she advised. “God knows Dan did.”

I gave in and laughed as she tucked the voluminous tribute to cuteness away. “Did he?”

“He says I don’t have to wear it.”

“But you feel you should, because it’s a gift.”

“Well, I sure as hell can’t make brisket!” She looked sour. “At least not without the fire department coming. He laughed about that, too.”

Her mouth tipped up into a smile. “Too bad the sweatshirt didn’t burn instead.”

“Maybe next time.”

She sighed again, looking at the clock. “Our time’s up.”

“I’ve got a few more minutes,” I told her. “Listen. Do you like her?”

“Yes.” She squirmed a little, laughter gone. “That’s why I’m so bothered.”

Pleased she’d admitted to it, I smiled. “Because you don’t want to let her down?”

“I don’t want to let her down, Dan, me…my mother…” Her voice trailed off, low.

Now we were getting to the crux of it. “Your mother?”

She nodded, slowly. “Yeah. I might be a shitty daughter but I’m hers. And…”

“You feel disloyal.”

Again, she nodded. “Yes. I do. Because I really like Dan’s mom.”

“Elle,” I told her gently. “It’s okay to like her. You don’t have to feel bad about that.”

“I’m afraid I’ve spent too long being a bad daughter. I know how to do that. I don’t know how to be something else.”

“Is that an excuse for not trying?”

She made another wordless noise, this one half a groan and half a sigh. “No. It’s just easier to keep doing the same thing. Play the same part, that’s all.”

Her words made me blink, hitting close to home as some of our previous conversations had. “There’s nothing that says you can’t change.”

“Not even if it changes everything else?”

I shook my head. “Not even then.”

Elle got up and reached a hand for me to shake. “I know you’re right, Dr. Danning.”

I squeezed her fingers. “I know you know I’m right. You have to know you’re right, too. Good luck with the kittens.”

She snorted delicately. “Thanks. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

When she left, I picked up the phone to call my sister to apologize. Then I put the handset back in the cradle, uncertain of what I meant to say.

April

T
his month, my name is Honey Adams. No, really it is. My daddy says the second he saw me all bundled up in my sweet pink blanket there in the nursery, he just knew I was going to be as sweet as honey. And he’s right.

My sister’s name is Angel because that’s what Daddy said she is. It’s her baby being baptized. My darling little nephew, Noah. He looks so cute in his little white baptismal gown with everyone oohing and ahhing over him.

Daddy’s so proud of his new grandson he’s paid for a party almost as lavish as the reception he gave for Angel’s wedding to John. There’s a huge buffet table, an open bar, even a DJ to help us all celebrate. Angel looks tired and John’s a little annoyed, but I figure they should just put smiles on their faces and be glad someone else is picking up the tab. They’d never be able to afford a party like this, not on what John makes. That’s what I heard Daddy say.

I can’t wait until it’s my turn. I’ll be a gorgeous bride, and when I start having babies, I just know they’ll be even more adorable than little Noah. I’ll be the best mother ever, and I won’t ever complain and cry like Angel does. I won’t turn into what Daddy calls a “puddin” either.

Daddy’s carrying Noah around as if he were a trophy. Mom’s over by the bar, supervising the caterer. I’ve got on the cutest new pink skirt, but there isn’t anyone to talk to here. I’m bored, and when I spot Joey from across the room, suddenly I’m all smiles.

“Jooooey!”

My daddy and Joey’s daddy are old hunting buddies, and I guess I’ve known Joey since I was born. There’s seven years difference between us, which used to matter a whole lot when we were kids but doesn’t so much, now. At least it shouldn’t.

He looks up from his conversation with some redhead I don’t know. He’s got a drink in his hand. He looks really good, but then, he always does. I’ve had a crush on Joey since the summer between fourth and fifth grade, when he used to come over to our house almost every day to swim in the pool. He used to jackknife off the diving board and come up with the water slicking his hair back, and everything about him was golden.

He smiles when he sees me, and I can’t help throwing the redhead a triumphant glance as he says goodbye to her and crosses the room to get to me.

“Honey. Long time no see.”

I give him a coy glance. “And whose fault is that?”

“All mine, I guess.” He lifts his glass and sips, and it’s impossible to miss the looking-over he’s giving me. “You look good.”

Of course I do. Thousands of dollars worth of orthodontia, plastic surgery and several years of an eating disorder have changed the chubby girl with an overbite and glasses. I flip my hair over one shoulder and give him a smile I know is blinding white and perfect.

“Thanks. You do, too.”

Getting together with Joey would guarantee daddy would stop calling me his “other daughter.” He’d throw me a wedding twice as fancy as Angel’s, I know he would. Daddy doesn’t like John, but Joey’s like the son he never had.

We chat for a while, idle small talk about our jobs and lives. I know what he does and where he lives. Joey’s mom and mine are best friends, and you can believe I hear all the gossip. He’s got a great job and house and a smoking hot car, and he doesn’t have a girlfriend. I know that for a fact, because his mother’s starting to get a little worried, even though I’ve heard my mom tell his there’s no way he’s gay, and she shouldn’t worry so much.

I tell him about my job, which is so boring I can barely stand to talk about it. Joey’s nodding in all the right places and making little noises like he’s listening, but his gaze keeps going to my chest. It’s quite a bit larger than it used to be and I like showing it off. My nipples tighten a bit under his gaze. He notices.

“So, Joey.” I keep my voice a little breathy, just like I’ve practiced in private until I can get it just right. I lean forward to take his wrist and bring his drink up to my mouth. “What are we drinking?”

I take a sip from his glass. He’s got whiskey—nasty, nasty stuff. I swallow it down, but I don’t let go of his wrist.

“I’m drinking Jameson. And it looks like you are, too.” Joey takes my other hand and puts it under the glass so he can let go while I’m left holding it.

I’m a little confused. “Huh?”

“Why don’t you keep that one. I’ll get myself another.” He nods a little and backs up a step, then turns on his heel and heads toward the bar. I’m left blinking, holding his glass, and shit, shit, shit, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

“Well, how about a freshener?” I catch up to him and flash him another smile.

“Sure, Honey.” Joey waves to the bartender and asks for another whiskey.

“Actually, I’d like a white zinfandel.”

I hand the guy Joey’s old glass and he hands us two new drinks. I sip mine right away, but Joey holds on to his and doesn’t drink from it. The redhead’s watching us without even bothering to hide it.

People in the corner are laughing, and we both turn to look. It’s Joey’s dad Frank and my dad. Frank’s shaking Daddy’s hand and clapping him on the back. They’re passing cigars, too. Joey watches them for a moment before he turns his back, and because I want to keep his attention, I turn away, too.

“Some party.” Joey lifts his glass.

He’s right, but I don’t really want to talk about the party, which is Angel’s, not mine. “Your dad’s having a good time.”

“Doesn’t he always, at parties?” Joey’s got a smile I heard my mom say could spread a nun’s knees, but right now it looks more like a smirk.

“Everyone likes a party, don’t they? Especially when someone else is paying for it?” I sip my wine and look around the room, crammed full of people. “Oooh, look! There’s Mindy Heverling!”

I smile and wave to her. She went to school with Joey, Angel and Joey’s brother Eddie. Mindy turns with a half-smile to wave at me, but in a second her face changes and she turns back around. Why’s she cutting me cold? Angel’s the one who used to steal her boyfriends, not me. Well, screw her. I look back at Joey, but now he’s looking at Mindy, and I realize she wasn’t cutting me cold at all. She was ignoring him.

“Didn’t Mindy used to go out with Eddie?”

“Yes.”

He’s still staring at her. I feel a little bad, bringing it up. Eddie died when Joey was in high school. Nobody talks about it much. In fact, I don’t want to talk about it, so I take his elbow and make my move.

“It’s hot in here. Want to take a walk with me?”

I know Daddy booked this place because it had a ballroom big enough to hold all of his friends, but the gardens are nice, too. Lots of color-coordinated tulips and daffodils, a Greek-looking patio and two cement fish ponds with carp the size of my arm…and a maze. It’s not a very complicated maze but all I really want is to get to the center of it with Joey.

After that, it’s not long before my tongue’s in his ear and his hand’s up my skirt.

“Honey,” Joey says when I reach for his belt buckle. “Aren’t you a bad girl?”

“Do you like bad girls?” His thighs are hard under my ass and my knees are pressing against the metal bench as I straddle him. I work the zipper on his trousers and slide a hand inside.

I’m looking at his face when I say it, and I’m expecting to see the look guys get when they’re about to get some action. Joey’s expression surprises me, makes me pause. He looks serious and considering, not at all like I want him to look, which is glassy eyed with lust.

“Not really.”

I falter, my hand closing around his thing. It’s hard enough, anyway, so even if he’s saying he doesn’t like bad girls, he’s still turned on. At least, I hope he is.

“N…no?”

Joey shifts a little and puts his hands on my hips to hold me from sliding off his lap. “Not really. No. I like girls who are good.”

Oh, he’s teasing me, playing with words. He’s always been good at that. A brain. Even in high school, he was always top of the class.

“I can be good, Joey.”

He winces a little and I loosen my grip, figuring I was holding too tight. His thing throbs in my fingers. Maybe he’s worried about being caught, but we’d hear anyone coming through the maze in plenty of time to button up, if we have to.

“I bet you can.”

His thumb slides into position against my tootsie. I bite my lower lip and lean in to kiss him. He turns his head so my lips land on the corner of his. I settle for nibbling his jaw and neck. His skin is warm and clean, and a little shiver tickles my spine.

This is Joey, but he’s also a stranger.

The thought makes me bite down a little, and he winces. He slides a finger beneath the lacy edge of my panties and inside me. I take his thing out all the way and start stroking him harder.

“Honey…slow down…” His voice is hoarse. His fingers are moving faster against me, no matter what he’s telling me to do.

“Nuh-uh.” I shake my head. “I want this.”

“I can see that.” His finger moves in and out of me while his thumb keeps pressing on my bump.

“Ooh, Joey,” I moan, pushing myself onto his hand. “Tootsie likes that.”

He makes a little noise, a kind of snuffling snort. He’s got his face turned even more away. He’s smiling.

“…does she?”

“Mmm, hmmm. Oh…Oh! Oh, God…Joey!”

I’ve been with other guys, it’s not that I’m a virgin or anything. But this is Joey, so I’m determined to make it so good he’ll be back for more.

“Fuck my tootsie…oh, oh…OH!”

I never shout when I have a real orgasm, but guys like it when girls make a lot of noise and wriggle around a lot. I want Joey to like me. A lot.

“Yes, yes!” I writhe around on his hand and finally fall forward to put my face on his shoulder. I’ve still got his thing in my hand. It’s not as hard as it was a couple minutes ago. I look up.

“Want me to put your thing in my mouth?”

At first he says nothing. He takes his fingers out of me. This position is starting to hurt my knees.

“Did you like that?”

I lick my lips. “Mmm, yeah, that was great, baby. Want me to suck you, now? Or use my hand?”

“Suck my what?” His eyes are heavy-lidded and his expression inscrutable. He’s playing with words again.

“Your thing. Your you-know.”

“My cock? You want to suck my cock, Honey?”

“Yes!” I nod. I don’t really want to suck his cock…I mean, I will because this is Joey, the guy I’ve had a super-mega crush on forever, and it’s what guys like. But sucking cock is sort of icky.

“Honey, somehow I don’t think your father would approve you sucking my cock out here in the middle of the maze.”

I glare. “I don’t do everything my father approves of.”

He’s getting soft, so I move to get down and take him in my mouth. Joey stops me by grabbing my elbow to keep me on his lap.

“Why are you doing this?”

“C’mon, Joey, it’s not like we don’t know each other. Remember when you were in grad school and you came over to my parents’ house for Christmas dinner?”

His thing…his cock…is getting harder again. His head tips back against the bench. His eyes are closed. His thighs tense and relax under my ass.

“Yeah.”

“And there was mistletoe?”

“Jesus, Honey…” He licks his lips and they part as he half-gasps. “That was a long time ago. You were just a kid.”

“You still kissed me.” I lean forward to whisper in his ear. I lick his lobe, then nibble it. His thing jerks in my fingers. “And I decided right then I’d marry you.”

At that, his eyes fly open. This time, I’m off his lap and almost on my ass on the ground before I catch my balance. He takes my hand out of his pants.

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute.” He runs a hand through his hair and does this whole weird squirmy thing where he tucks himself back in his pants and runs his hands over the rest of him like he’s making sure his clothes aren’t wrinkled. “Who said anything about getting married?”

I straighten my own clothes and turn to face him on the bench. “Maybe not right away, but—”

“But nothing. But never.”

That stings, and I frown. I cross my arms. “You were happy enough to put your hand up my skirt.”

Joey looks stunned. “Holy shit, Honey. Fucking hell.”

“What?” I cry, offended. “Is it such a crazy idea? We’d be great together!”

“How do you figure that?” Joey asks. “You don’t even know me!”

“What you do mean, I don’t know you? I’ve known you forever! Mom and Daddy know your parents, they’d love to see us hooked up. You’ve got a great job and could easily support me and we’d make beautiful babies…”

“What fucking decade are you living in?” Joey’s voice is even, but bemused. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not? What’s wrong with wanting to get married?”

“Usually you marry someone you love, who loves you.”

“But I do love you! What, you like redheads better?” I lean toward him, my tone snide. “You’d rather hook up with that nobody than me? How about Mindy Heverling? You know, there was a rumor about you and her—”

I reach for his crotch again, but he moves away before I can touch him.

“Don’t.”

I give him the look that usually gets me whatever I want. “Joey. Of course we can date for a while, first. This was just a little taste of what I can give you.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” I stand and put my hands on my hips. “I’m not good enough for you? I’m good enough to suck you off but not good enough to date?”

Joey stands, his hands up. “Honey, cut it out. This isn’t flattering.”

“Oh, is that it?” Tears burn in my eyes and I swipe them away. “You’re turning me down?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know how many guys would love to take me out?”

“A lot, I’m sure. Why don’t you go back inside and find one? I think the party’s still going on—”

I slap him, hard enough to turn his head. “How dare you!”

The imprint of my fingers is first white, then slowly fill in red as I watch. I’m breathing hard. My nipples are hard. Heat has spread up my throat to my cheeks. Finally, I’m turned on.

So, I slap his other cheek just as hard. Joey puts a hand to the marks as he slowly turns his face to look at me.

“You’re lucky I’m a gentleman,” he says evenly. “Or I’d knock you on your ass for that.”