Page 26 of All My Broken Pieces

“This is…”

“Pathetic?” I cut him off, snatching the phone back and rereading some of the most recent texts.

Me

What do you mean you’re sorry?

There’s nothing to be sorry about,

it was a perfect night baby

Me

Baby. Please don’t do this

Me

Fallon. Fallon please

Me

I love you mi vida. I love you so fucking

much, we can figure this out together.

Please don’t ignore me

I shake my head, locking the phone and shifting my gaze to stare out across the empty field. Memories I had long since repressed trying to surface once again.

“Mamá? Plea-please don’t ignore me.”

I blink, shaking my head once more to push aside the intrusive cry. A distant memory, the day my life changed forever.

Closing my eyes, I focus instead on Fallon’s beautiful face. Her iridescent eyes, pale complexion, naturally peach tinted lips. Long flowing blonde hair the color of a perfect sunrise.

My mind travels to the little things, to the imperfections and personalized aspects of her appearance that make herher.

Like the slit in her eyebrow, her slightly off center glasses as the frames are bent from repeated use, her chipped nail polish. Always chipped. I don’t know how she manages to do it, but I’ve never seen her with a perfect polish. The faint scar line that’s just beneath her chin. A small tattoo on either side of her spine of a pair of broken wings, feathers cascading below the wings in crumpled forms.

I envision every bump, every curve, every soft angle of her perfect body. From head to toe, I picture her in my mind’s eye and feel the distress inside grow at the realization that this might be all I have now.

Memories.

Clearing my throat, I slip my phone into my pocket and open my eyes to find Andrew watching me. “You got clean up today?” I jerk my head toward our set up.

He nods, opening his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. “Thanks, Drewbie.” Blowing him a kiss, I dart away, desperate to get home and surround myself with the things that will keep her memory alive.

“It’ll hurt less now than later.”

For the umpteenth time, I replay her words, trying to convince myself that there’s some truth in them. But I can’t, because deep down I know it’s a lie.

She’s mine. She always has been. Always will be.

I don’t care how much more it will hurt later, I don’t care about anything other than getting my baby back into my arms.

Drewbie

Got a job, want it?

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