Falling to Pieces Page 8

  I agreed and let him teach me the day’s lesson. He leaned against the other couch across the room, leaving practically the entire living room between us. I took notes as he covered what had been discussed in class, and then answered the practice questions he’d given the other students. It really was no different than him tutoring another student after school. Only…he was in my living room. And I wore pajamas with a blanket around me.

  “Oh, I did have one other purpose for stopping by,” he said, and pivoted toward me on his way out the door. “But before I give this to you, let me explain it first. This is for emergencies. I, obviously, would like you to use it when you need to get ahold of me, but in the event of a real emergency, please use it to call the authorities.”

  Confusion didn’t even begin to describe my mood before he pulled a cell phone from his pocket, handing it to me. “A phone? You got me a phone? I can’t afford this. I’ve already told you. I don’ have—”

  “It’s prepaid,” he said, his words cutting me off mid-sentence. “It’s just a flip-phone with a basic plan. It has unlimited text messaging, and five hundred minutes a month. I would have gotten less minutes, but figured you might have times when you just need to talk to someone, and I didn’t want you to run out. But if we need to adjust the plan, it’s really easy. It’s just month to month.”

  “Mr. Taylor…”

  “Axel. I’ve already told you.”

  I rolled my eyes, hoping that would ease some of the worry that had consumed my nerves. “I can’t accept a phone from you. I can’t pay for this. Not to mention, I don’t even have any friends to call.” I tried handing it back to him, but he wouldn’t take it.

  “We’re friends, right? Call me if you need to. It has me worried just thinking about you sleeping on your porch in thirty-degree weather because you couldn’t call anyone.”

  “It was a one-time thing. It’s never happened before, and probably will never happen again. I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay…” He held a finger up in front of me, making me pause my thoughts for his argument. “Then use it the next time you don’t have a ride somewhere. The next time you miss the bus, before or after school. The next time you’re out somewhere and the weather is too bad to walk in it. It doesn’t matter what you need it for, there will be a time that you will. And I would feel much better knowing you had a way to get in touch with me.”

  I nodded, contemplating a rebuttal. “If my mom finds it…”

  “Don’t let her find it.”

  I finally met his eyes. It was the first time since after he walked in that I’d wanted to tease him. “You want me to hide something from my mother? Doesn’t that go against some kind of teacher oath or something?”

  “No.” The small curve of his lips said so much. “I would never tell you to do something like that. All I meant was to keep it safe. But whatever you do, don’t tell her about it.” He winked and then turned to open the door.

  I kept my mouth shut, even though I wanted to say more. I wanted to keep him there, keep him joking with me. I didn’t want him to leave, but I knew he needed to. The hardest part was having to remind myself that he was my teacher, that he was seven years older than me, and these butterflies had no business taking root in the pit of my stomach.

  “See you tomorrow, Bree.” His smooth, deep voice enveloped me through the open door.

  “See you then, Axel,” I replied, wanting to keep the silly grin off my face but knowing immediately that I’d failed. My cheeks ached from the strained muscles, so I gave in and let the smile widen.

  An airy laugh escaped him before he left. He shook his head all the way to his Jeep. I wanted more than anything to know what that had meant. Because I didn’t trust my own imagination to figure it out. I couldn’t allow myself to fill in the blanks and come to my own conclusion.

  I had to remind myself that I was nothing more than a child in his eyes.

  A poor, defenseless child that he had to protect from her big, bad mom.

  A student in desperate need of a caring adult.

  And that’s all he was—a caring adult.

  I rolled my eyes and headed back to the couch, studying the phone in my hands. His number was the only one programmed into the contacts, and I must’ve stared at his name for a while, because the next thing I knew, my mom had come home.

  “You didn’t go to school today?” she questioned from the kitchen.

  I glanced up to her, shoving the phone beneath the blanket. “No. I didn’t feel well. I stayed home and slept all day. I just woke up a couple of hours ago.” I feared what would come next. Each of her steps taunted me with the promise of a lecture. But that’s not what I got.

  Instead, she came to me, knelt in front of the couch, and pressed the back of her hand to my forehead. “You are a little warm, but not bad. Have you taken anything?”

  Nodding was all I could do to answer. She’d stunned me too much for my mouth to work properly.

  Her eyes dropped to my lap as she let out a long breath. “Aubrey,” she started, which worried me since she hardly ever used my full name. “I had no idea how sick you were. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  I wished I’d had a mirror so that I could see my reflection. I’m sure my face registered shock and surprise at her words. My eyes opened wide and my mouth fell open as air refused to enter my lungs.

  “Aubrey, we need to talk.”

  A jolt of hysteria overcame me. Did she know Mr. Taylor had been here? Did she see the phone in my hand before I covered it up? Did she get a call from the school? So many paranoid fears flooded my mind and kept me unable to respond to her. Knowing her, if she even thought I’d befriended a teacher from school, she’d have him fired before morning. And I couldn’t lose him.

  He was my only friend.

  He was the only person who ever cared about me.

  I couldn’t lose him so soon.

  “The other night…” She seemed so nervous to talk to me, which was completely out of character for her. I’d never seen her even hesitate when speaking to me, so this had me quiet and still, waiting for the familiar sting of her words. “I was mad and made the decision to let you walk home. I honestly had no idea it had started to rain until way later. And I swear to you, I thought you had come inside. I saw your keys on the counter when I came down from my shower, and figured you’d gone upstairs. And since I was mad, I didn’t want to go up and check on you, because I knew it would only cause me to yell.”

  “I don’t get it, Mom. I rang the doorbell and pounded on the door for a long time. At least five straight minutes. How did you not hear that?” Tears stung my eyes, remembering that night so clearly, and unable to believe a word she said.

  “That must’ve been while I was in the shower. I’ve done some awful things to you, things I’m not proud of and don’t want to discuss right now, but I’d never purposely leave you outside in that weather overnight. I’d never do that.” Her voice shook, causing me to focus on her watering eyes.

  I’d never seen her cry before. I’d heard her after my dad left, but it was always behind a closed door. Watching tears pull at the rims of her eyes before cascading quickly down her rosy cheeks weakened my resolve. It crumbled my hard exterior when it came to her, and it softened my fight. I didn’t want to believe her, but witnessing her guilt over it, I couldn’t help but buy her story.

  “And then you were quiet and down on Sunday, and I just thought you were pissed about it. I didn’t know what to say by that point. I felt horrible knowing you’d been outside that whole time, but I didn’t know how to express it. I have a hard time showing my feelings around you sometimes.”

  I shook my head, which caused her to pause her excuse. “You don’t have a hard time showing me your anger. You never hesitate to let me know when I’ve pissed you off or I’m doing something wrong. You never tiptoe around your feelings about my grades or school. The only time you have any difficulty expressing anything is when you do something wrong. When you knock m
y head against a door and make me look like I’ve gone twelve rounds with Rocky. Or when you leave me alone at a closed library, and make me walk home in the freezing rain. When you make me sleep on a lounge chair in the back yard with nothing to keep me warm. Those are the only times you hesitate to say anything. Is it that hard to admit you’ve done something wrong? Is it that hard to apologize…or at least let me know you feel bad about it?” Tears had streaked my face by that point, and nothing could stop the quivering in my chin. My hands shook in my lap from the adrenaline that sucker-punched my system. I’d never spoken back to my mom before, and had it not felt so good at that moment, I would’ve feared the repercussions.

  Her throat worked hard as she swallowed, probably feeling every ounce of my anger. All I wanted her to see was that I was a child—her child—and never deserved anything she’d ever given me. I deserved so much better than being ignored or treated like some household servant. I was the only family she had left, and she made me feel as if she’d rather be alone than to have me there. I wished she could see that.

  “Is it so hard to be my mom?” My words were nothing but a whispered plea, begging her to show me that she loved me. In that moment, I didn’t feel like a sixteen-year-old. I felt like a small child, hungry for the love and affection from a parent.

  Some kids act out to gain their parent’s attention. They say bad attention is better than none at all. Some kids seek it from other people or things. Drugs. Alcohol. Parties and sex. But not me. I never once acted out, talked back, did anything bad to be seen. I would’ve rather gone the rest of my life invisible to her than to garner the wrong kind of notice.

  But Axel had done something to me. He saw me. And it made me feel special. It made me yearn to experience that from the one person that was supposed to give it to me. I didn’t need to daydream about some relationship with a man whose purpose was to prepare me for the future. I didn’t need to spend my time thinking about a guy that smiled at me, imagining what it would be like to be held by him. I didn’t need a stranger to comfort me. I needed that from my mom. That was her job. She was supposed to teach me what love meant. It was her responsibility to lay the groundwork for my future, give me an example of the way it’s supposed to be, show me what I had to look forward to. It was her job to hold me when I was scared, dry my tears, and bring me medicine when I was sick. All these things I’d buried long ago. I’d come to the conclusion when I was very young that I’d never get that…not from her. And when my dad left, I’d accepted that I’d never get that from anyone.

  Until Axel Taylor came into my life.

  Until I walked into his classroom.

  Until he showed me he cared.

  Now, after all this time, I wanted it from her. I wanted it from my mom. And I would fight to get it if I had to. I would call her out on her bullshit. Her lies. Her inability to take blame or apologize for her mistakes. I couldn’t allow it to carry on the way it was.

  “Don’t you get tired of this?” I asked, studying her reaction closely.

  Her eyes dropped, her hands fisted in her lap, and her shoulders pulled back, as if the muscles were taut with some kind of heavy emotion I couldn’t read. I couldn’t read it because I’d never seen it on her before.

  “Don’t you want to have a relationship with me? I’m your daughter. I’m your only child.” I hiccupped a sob when I said, “Don’t you love me?” The tears had filled my vision so much that I couldn’t see her. She was nothing more than a shadowy figure in front of me.

  “I just wanted you to know that I never meant to leave you locked outside. It was an accident.” Her voice was all I had to go on since I couldn’t see her, and it was filled with ice. Cold and distant. It lacked the emotion I’d previously witnessed before going blind with salty pain. “It’ll never happen again.”

  And then the shadow rose from the ground and vanished. I couldn’t even find the strength to wipe my eyes, knowing if I could see her walk away from me, it would be worse than the assumption. I couldn’t handle that, even though it was all I was used to. It reiterated to me that my mother was nothing more than a silhouette. She was the closing curtain on my final act, leaving me alone on the stage of life with my grief and deep-seeded insecurities. Hell, she was my insecurity.

  All this started because of one man.

  Axel Taylor had ruined me.

  I laid in bed and stared at my new phone, clutching it tightly in my hand. I’d gone through life alone, and dealt with the rejection my mother handed me on a daily basis all by myself. But, for some reason, I now felt the desire to share this with someone. Not just anyone, but one particular person. Axel. I wanted to talk about it, cry about it, vent to him about how my mom made me feel when she walked away from me. I had become accustomed to bottling up my emotions, not worrying about the way my mom’s rejection affected me. But now, I’ve experienced the amazing feeling of being heard, and I couldn’t go back to closing myself off any longer.

  It took me close to thirty minutes before flipping the lid open and finding his contact information already programmed in. I opened a blank text message and watched the cursor blink over and over again without typing a single word. Finally, I spelled out one word: awake? And hit send. Then I freaked out as I waited impatiently for him to respond.

  Within seconds, the phone beeped once, and a response came in.

  Everything okay?

  Again, I hesitated on what to say, typing out a word and then deleting it. I worried that I’d sound too juvenile, too immature. I didn’t want to bother him the first night I had the phone, and I certainly didn’t want to come across too eager to talk to him. Doubt began to flood my earlier spontaneity. What if he was busy? What if he was entertaining someone? Or what if I really had woken him? But before I could organize my thoughts enough to reply, the phone started ringing in my hand, making me jump.

  I answered it before the sound could alert my mom—the last thing I needed was for her to come in and catch me with it. “Hello?” Even though I knew who it was, his name flashing across the small, square screen, I tried to act aloof, as if I had no idea who was on the other end of the line.

  “Everything okay, Bree?” His voice sounded worried, concerned.

  “Hi,” I said nervously, not sure what the right thing to say was. “Yes, everything is fine. I thought I wanted to talk, but I think I changed my mind.”

  He laughed through the line and it immediately set me at ease. “You think you’ve changed your mind? What did you want to talk about? Let’s start there and then we’ll discuss why you aren’t sure about it.”

  “Well, my mom talked to me after she came home, and it upset me. But now that I think about it, it seems stupid to go to you about it. You told me to call you if I needed to, and I guess I don’t really need to. I just wanted to talk for some stupid reason.”

  “It’s not stupid to want to talk about it if it upset you. What did she say?”

  I told him everything, leaving out my breakdown. I didn’t want him to know how desperately I craved my mom’s love. I figured that’d make me sound like a weak child, and that’s the last way I wanted him to think of me.

  “And you believe her?”

  I twisted my blanket in my hand, suddenly feeling self-conscious about it all. “I mean, I guess I do. She seemed sincere. She has no reason to lie to me about it. I’ve never seen her act like that toward me before, so what else am I supposed to think?”

  “But then she walked away?” He sounded disbelieving, as if he couldn’t fathom it. As if a mother walking away from her child in the midst of such a heavy conversation was incomprehensible to him.

  The sting of tears threatened my eyes as I thought back to earlier that day when she left me crying alone on the couch. The rejection that overcame me then rushed back as if it were freshly exposed. As if she’d just walked away from me all over again. “Yes. But it was my fault. I pushed her too hard. I asked her why it was so hard to love me. I guess she couldn’t handle that and left. I should
n’t have said anything. I should have just let her get the guilt off her chest and move on.”

  A frustrated grunt carried through the line, filling my ear with his irritation. “Stop blaming yourself. You didn’t make her walk away. If she can’t handle that kind of question, a very valid question, then that’s on her. Not you. You had every right to ask her that, and she should have given you an answer.”

  “I shouldn’t have bothered you with this, Mr. Taylor.”

  “Every time you call me that outside of school, I’m going to call you Miss Jacobs,” he said, gritting out each word in annoyance. “If we’re going to do this—talk and stuff—then I can’t have you refer to me like that. This is already hard enough on me without hearing you use such a proper name.”

  “Why is this so hard for you?” I longed to know, hoping it would either validate my own feelings, or set them straight once and for all.

  A long huff of air rushed through the earpiece, and I swear I could feel it cover me in warmth, like a blanket. “I’m new to all this, okay? I’ve already told you that I’ve subbed before and assisted other teachers, but that was always short term. I’ve never had to worry about growing an attachment to a student.”

  “Are you saying you are attached to me?” Why am I pushing this?

  “Not like that, Bree. You are in a crappy situation, and I want to help you. I can help you. And I think I’m the only one willing to do so. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. As a teacher, it is my job to protect you while you’re in my care. Unfortunately, you aren’t being protected outside my watch, and that’s what bothers me. I’ve been through this with my friend growing up, and I don’t even want to think about where he’d be without me and my parents. I don’t want to think about what will happen to you if I turn my back. So I don’t want to—I can’t turn my back on you. However, I need you to understand that you are my student. I am your teacher. And it is unethical and just plain wrong for this to go beyond me keeping you safe.”