Page 105 of Strings
“I called you an Uber. He’s down the street to the left. Go now before you make things worse.”
At this moment, with my life falling apart around me, I would expect her to gloat. But there’s something in her eyes. Maybe she knows she’s won. Whatever the case, I’m thankful. I open the door and take one last look. My life will never be the same. I’ve lost everything I never even knew I wanted and everything that was never mine to begin with. Now it’s time to do what I do best. Disappear.
The finish line is for losers too.
My Uber driver is halfway to the airport when I realize all my worldly possessions are at my apartment. I can’t leave my pens, my book, or Stella. I slip him a twenty and ask him to turn back.
As I quickly rush into my building, I see several people from the orchestra waiting for the elevator. Talking has never been my strong suit and I’m in no mood for idle chit-chat. I need to pack and get out of here quickly, so I take the stairs instead. Pulling out my keys, I rush toward my door. The frame is cracked and it’s open. I swallow hard as I place my key in between my knuckles and push.
The door cries as it opens, almost falling off its hinges. My couches have been sliced open and the stuffing pulled out. Did they think I was hiding something in them? How would I even do that?
The tables are overturned and as I take a slow, cautious step toward them, something crunches under the weight of my foot. Gazing down, I see I’ve stepped on a piece of my now shattered mug. There’s a small bear on the piece and the visual becomes painfully burned into my mind.
Gripping my key tighter and getting ready to fight, I take slow, calculated steps toward the bedroom. I quickly realize whoever did this is long gone. My gut tells me the only thing they were looking for was me. The rest was just a warning of what they’re going to do to me when they get ahold of me.
I swallow hard. He found me. There’s a debt to pay and they won’t quit until I’ve either paid with cash, my life, or maybe both. That’s how drug lords work.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I notice my closet is open. I’m afraid to look, so I walk back toward the kitchen. Dirt on the carpet to my right catches my eye. I run over to find Stella, wilted and broken on the floor. Her pot is crushed and overturned. The impact of the fall snapped several of her stems off. There are two weak strands left and she can barely carry their weight.
I can’t hold it in any longer. The tears rush down my cheeks as I carefully lift her off the ground. “I’m so sorry. I ruin everything I touch. You didn’t deserve this.”
I hear footsteps approaching. It’s probably Bobby Bullseye coming to kill me. I don’t even care. I cradle Stella on my lap and watch the door as the footsteps draw closer. I can barely see through the tears, and it’s probably better that I die that way.
A blur in the doorway comes into focus, but it’s not Bobby. It’s Sebastian.
His eyes bulge as he takes in the state of my apartment. He quickly glances around until his panicked gaze stops on me. He hurries toward me. “What the fuck happened? Are you okay? Did someone hurt you? Please tell me my parents didn’t do this.”
He gets down on his knees next to me. I’m both happy and saddened by his presence. I don’t know why he’s here. I desperately want to throw my arms around him and bury my face in the shelter of him, but after everything he’s learned about me tonight, I’m certain the only thing he wants from me is an explanation.
He lifts his right hand to touch my face and pulls it back as if he doesn’t know if he should touch me anymore. That’s when I notice it’s wrapped in ice.
“Oh my God! Your hand. Is it broken? Does it hurt? Can you move your fingers?” I touch it gently and I think I feel him take a sharp breath when our skin makes contact.
“It’s fine. I don’t know why everyone assumes I’m made of glass. I’ve punched a lot of things in my life.”
Pulling away, I almost make a joke, but the reality of my life holds me back. “Why did you come here?” I ask in a whisper as I gently hold Stella.
“Did you think I wouldn’t come after you? Don’t you think we should talk?”
I can’t look at him. I sniffle and attempt to stand. “I need to get her in some water.”
Sebastian seems annoyed, but I don’t care. I walk into the kitchen and over the rest of my dishes shattered on the floor. There’s nothing to put her in, so I wet a paper towel and place it around the little bit of root that’s left.
“Who did this?” he asks as he stands in the kitchen doorway.
I shrug. “My guess is that Bobby Bullseye traced my phone call the other day, or your mother gave me away and Bobby wants what I owe him. Either way, it’s not safe for you here. You need to go.”
“Bobby Bullseye? Is someone looking for you? Jesus, Talia, what have you gotten yourself into?”
I’m surprised he’s still using my fake name, but aggravated that he thinks I did anything of my own choosing. “I… didn’t get myself into anything. If Mommy Dearest would have looked into the real facts then she would have seen that none of this was ever my choice.”
“Mommy Dearest fits her well. I’m mortified by what they did to you. I don’t even know where to begin to make things right.”
I shrug. “What she did is no different than any other event in my life. People have always assumed they knew me because they knew my parents. But guess what? Just because you’re born into a life doesn’t mean it’s the one you would have picked if you had the choice.”
He leans back so his legs are resting against the counter. He’s thinking. “I can totally relate to that, but why didn’t you tell me? How many times did I tell you I wanted to know more about you?”
Placing Stella gently on the counter, I cross my arms. “Every single time I told you anything about me, you’d get this sad, weepy look in your eyes, likeOh, poor, poor Talia.”
