Page 97 of Fractured (Not Quite a Billionaire)
I was going to have a baby. Hemi’s baby. Hemi’s son, or his daughter.
I sat at the table with my potato chopped into tiny pieces and ate it one slow bite at a time as my throat threatened to close. And when I got up to wash my plate, my shaking hand hit my mother’s vase and knocked it into the sink.
It was as if it happened in slow motion. The tall white vase wobbled, tipped, and fell. My hand followed after it, grabbed for it, and found only air. And then my last reminder, my best thing—it hit the hard white ceramic sink and split in two.
I set down the plate I still held, lifted out the sharp-edged pieces with a trembling hand, set them on the counter, and tried to breathe.
I wanted to rewind. I wanted a do-over. I wanted…I wanted none of it to be true. My hands were gripping the edge of the counter, and I looked at what I’d done and cried.
My mother’s vase was fractured, broken right down the middle, and so was my life. I was pregnant, and I was alone. I’d left Karen behind, and I’d lost Hemi. It was all my fault, and I couldn’t fix it.
I cried because Hemi had left me alone, and knew I was the one who had left. I cried because he hadn’t called me, and remembered that I was the one who’d asked him not to. And I cried because he hadn’t taken me for a walk, and he hadn’t sent me flowers. Not once. Not ever, since I’d moved in with him.
And, yes, the other part of me knew that was all completely unfair and insisted on reminding me of how busy and stressed he was, and of everything he’d done for Karen and me. But still. He’d said he wanted me, but only on his terms. Only if I stayed right there and did exactly what he wanted and was in his bed every night when he finally showed up.
I was going to have his baby, and I was a hot mess who wasn’t even ready to be a good partner, let alone anybody’s mother. And I’d broken my mother’s vase.
Finally, I stopped crying. I had no tears left, and they wouldn’t have helped anyway. I blew my nose, washed my face, picked up my phone, and made a call. And after that? I packed my suitcase.
Hemi
It was after eight by the time I was standing outside Hope’s building. I pressed the buzzer, and then I pressed it again, and then I leaned into it. And when nothing happened again, I did the thing I hadn’t done all along. I used the key.
I hadn’t used it so far, had I? I’d respected her wishes, but I wasn’t respecting this. If she was ill…
Suddenly, I knew shewasill. All those weeks last autumn, when Karen had grown ever weaker and sicker, what had Hope done? She’d kept working, had cared for her sister, had sat up with her, had dealt with everything life had thrown at her. She’d grown paler, and she’d grown thinner, but she’d kept going. Now, she couldn’t stay awake past nine. It had happened so gradually, I hadn’t noticed it. Or maybe I’d stopped noticing her at all.
I’d given her a bracelet, and a ring, and a pendant. I’d sent her roses, again and again. And then she’d moved in with me, and I’d given her nothing but sex. I hadn’t even given her my attention. I’d barely been willing to take a walk with her—once, in a month. No wonder she hadn’t thought she could tell me she was ill.
Now, I finally pulled out the key Charles had had cut so he could have her apartment emptied, all those weeks ago. Four flights of stairs later, I was flipping on the lights in a dim apartment, and seeing nothing.
No dishes on the counter. No more dust on the floors. A made-up bed. Everything was clean, and it was tidy. Except for one thing. Two pieces of white ceramic, sitting by the sink. I picked them up, fitted them together, and set them down again.
She’d broken the vase. And she’d left it there like it didn’t matter.
I moved on, then. When I opened the single closet in the living room, it was empty. A row of wire hangers stared back at me, and that was all.
I didn’t even know when she’d left. It could have been days. The panic tried to seize me at the thought. She could be anywhere. She could be in danger.
No,my mind finally caught up enough to say. She’d talked to Karen every night. She’d taken her clothes. She was gone fromhere,that was all.
I pulled out my phone to call her, and it rang in my hand. It wasn’t Hope, though. It was Karen.
“Hemi?” She didn’t sound a bit like her usual breezy self. “Hope just left. She came right after you left, and she said…” Her voice wobbled. “I said I wouldn’t call you, but I am anyway. She’s going to be pretty mad, because I promised.”
“What? She was there?” The relief was trying to make me shake. “Good, because I’m here, at the apartment.” She’d, what? Come back to me, then decided to leave again? That was all right. If she’d come back once, she could do it again. I’d stay here until she turned up and make it happen. Even if I had to apologize.
“But she’s not goingbackto the apartment,” Karen said. “She came on her way out to tell you. And to get me. But I wouldn’t go, and she was crying, and…Hemi.” Karen was crying herself, a great gulping sob that made her sound about four. “I feel sobad.Should I have gone?”
“Where?” The hair on my arms was rising.To hospital,the voices said.You’ve been focused on everything else, and she’s been getting sicker all the time.
“To New Zealand,” Karen said. “Koro told her to come. He told her to come now. And she left. Twenty minutes ago. She’s on her way to the airport.”
Hemi
“It’s all right,” I managed to tell Karen. “I’ll go get her. Did she say which airport? Which airline?”
“Um…no. She just said she was going. I’m sorry. I couldn’t eventhink.I was just surprised. And I know I should have gone with her, because she’ll be all alone, and she never leftmealone. And I’m with you, and I’m thinking…is it awkward? I know you’re able to sign things and stuff, but you probably think I should go. I should probably go.”
