Shattered on the Ground

“I really just think you should wear the beige one, Reese Lynn.” Mrs. Hanley was a prime and proper woman. She did nothing for practicality but for appearance and she extended that to her daughter. Mrs. Hanley and Reese were standing in her room before her floor length mirror. A deep aggravation had set into Reese’s grey eyes upon her mothers return and the gleam had yet to leave.

“Mom, this one is fine.” Reese was only tolerating her mother for one reason; Ashley was dead. This was Mrs. Hanley’s way of dealing, by not dealing at all and giving all of her attention to her surviving daughter.

“Please just try the beige one.” Mrs. Hanley herself had dressed in an ivory colored suit and skirt that had been ironed half a dozen timed and was not form fitting at all. Her dark brunette hair was piled atop her head in a tight bun and a pair of black stilettos adorned her feet while a string of pearls hung from her neck.

“Mom,” Reese was loosing her grip on her emotions. “I’m wearing this one okay. It’s not on your body, it’s on mine. I’m wearing the black one. It’s a funeral for Christ sake.” Mrs. Hanley did what she did best then—she pretended she hadn’t herd her daughter.

“The black one will do I suppose.” She decided evenly as she pulled at the ends of Reese’s black dress in an attempt to rid it of creases. “Now about your hair…” Reese’s eyes closed as she begged god for some patients.

Chris sat morosely in one of the perfectly clean unused room’s in the downstairs of the Hanley house. His parents were meeting him at the funeral. His parents begged him to accompany them to the funeral but there were only so much sympathy filled glances and sorry laced words a guy could take. At least at the Hanley house they wouldn’t offer words of comfort and sorrowful emotions. The Hanley’s just weren’t like that—Mr. and Mrs. Hanley anyway. Ashley was one of the most over emotional kids he had ever met. He could always get the right level of excitement out of her, the right level out of enthusiasm that no one else could muster. Even Reese had been able to show the right emotions, unlike their parents; their parents who were in constant denial and always faked a smile. At least in the Hanley household Chris would get some peace.

“Mom would you please just give it a rest.” Well, Chris thought bitterly, at least she’s showing some emotions. A least she isn’t a shell anymore.

“I just think-“ a door closed, cutting off the conversation that drifted down the stairs to the drummer’s ear. Chris shook his head in slight disbelief; Mrs. Hanley never could quite grasp the understandings of parenting. She ignored her children with the exception of parties and family gatherings and she only offered them her undivided attention when it was to keep her mind busy—which was usually the times when the twins had always wanted to be left alone.

Chris held out his sleeve and revealed a gold watch, a gift from his grandfather. It was 12:52, the funeral started in less than ten minutes and the Hanley’s had yet to leave the house. Chris gazed heavenward and sighed as he fell back into the white couch, Chris wasn’t going to be the one to tell Mrs. Hanley that they were late; Mrs. Hanley wasn’t late for anything.

“Mom,” Reese stated as calmly as she could while drawing a deep breath and closing her eyes. Her mother had been ‘suggesting’ her wardrobe for the funeral since 10:00 this morning, causing any and all patients to have been lost a half an hour prior. “Mom, it doesn’t matter.”

“Well of course it matters.” Mrs. Hanley stated as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Appearance is everything.” She pushed a bobby pin into Reese’s hair and pulled on the edges of her midnight black D&G silk & lace dress. Reese was so far gone with her emotions that she was tempted to slip the two rings back into her lip just to piss her mother off. Having her mother pissed would be better than this, this unphased detached woman who was unconcerned of where they were headed.
Her mother had done what she did best while their plane had been grounded in New York while Reese had been in the hospital; she went shopping.

Mrs. Hanley had taken it upon herself to buy Reese a wardrobe, but not just ‘a wardrobe’ as in a single set of cloths. Mrs. Hanley had bought several different skirts, dresses, and women’s suits for Reese in a variety of colors; she also bough five pairs of shoes. Each item cost more than Reese made in two years working at the diner. Her mothers excuse? ‘They were on sale.’ The current dress that Reese was trapped in was an imported piece from Italy and cost $3,650. The shoes she was currently squishing her feet into?
Dolce & Gabbana metallic leaf wedge sandals. The cost? $ 725.
“Here put this on.” Her mother ordered as she grabbed one of the jackets off of Reese’s large bed. Her mother had spread out the assortment of new clothes onto her bed for better examination.

“Mom.” Her voice was a cross between a warning and a whine.

“Oh just put it on Reese Lynn, stop being difficult. It is a coat, it is cold out. Just put the coat on.” The coat was a D&G trench coat
that fell to her knees. It was black, as was everything else on Reese at the moment, and had a ruffled trim. The cost? $ 2,595. “Now, I have a nice assortment of hats that would go good with your dress,” Mrs. Hanley began musingly.

“Mom,” Reese snapped. The hat was the last straw. These weren’t just hats; they were ridiculous pieces of headwear that Reese wouldn’t even wear to a Halloween party. Her mother could subject her to a lot of things but the large ugly hundred dollar hats were not one of them. Reese spun around on her heels and faced her mother. Her mother was a sharp prestigious woman who even if she were to wear rags would have an air of class about her. Her face was sharp and smooth, her hair perfectly died and her eyes expertly lined. “Mom we are going to a funeral. You get that right? It’s a funeral, not a fucking popularity contest. It’s a funeral, Ashley’s funeral.”

“I know what it is, Reese Lynn!” Her voice was sharp and echoed down the stairs. “I know what it is.” She huffed before she gave her surviving daughter a once over and her posture straightened. “Don’t use that tone or language with me.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Reese grumbled rolling her eyes. She reached for her leather metallic turquoise D&G hand bag off her vanity table and moved for the door. “I’ll be in the limo.” She called over her shoulder.

When Reese descended the stairs Chris rose to his feet on impulse, his breath hitching in his throat; she was a perfect replica of Ashley in that moment. Reese had always been the defiant one in the family; she purposely went to thrift stores for her clothes just to prove to her mother, and to herself, that money wasn’t everything. Ashley was always the one clad in designer labels, not because it was Ashley’s taste in clothes, but to please their mother. But Reese also doubled as her mother in that moment, the air about her was not the carefree defiant tone that she always bore but something else entirely. Her posture was straight, her face composed and unreadable. Some would mistake it for snobbish but it was really Reese trying desperately to control her emotions toward her mother; it was Reese’s pissed off face.
Chris met her at the stairs,
“Wow,” He breathed. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” She grumbled as Chris sent her a knowing look than opened his arms to her. Reese accepted his hugs willingly as she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, breathing in the light sent of Axe.

“She means well,” Chris murmured.

“Yeah I know.” She grunted. “That’s the only reason I didn’t flip out on her.” She pulled away Chris gazed at what Reese had been forced into. A slight smile appeared on his lips.

“How much do you cost today, Miss. Hanley?” The teasing edge in Chris’s voice made Reese scuff bitterly.

“Almost $7,000.” Reese stated as Chris offered her his arm. She took it in slight relief as he led her to the front door of the Hanley house and toward the limo. “It’s disgusting really,” Reese commented. “No one should have that much spending money in their pocket.”

“That’s your mother,” Chris sighed sliding into the limousine next to her.

“That’s mommy dearest.” Reese echoed.
Several minutes later Mr. Hanley appeared. His face was solemnly and a deep set frown lined his face. Reese looked out the window, she couldn’t look her father in the eye as he entered the limo. Ashley had been a daddy’s girl and now she was gone. Unlike her mother Mr. Hanley’s emotions were written all over his face and in that instant Reese wanted nothing more than to be subjected to her mother’s indifferent attitude.

“Do you have the time, Christopher?” his voice was low and grave and Reese’s eyes closed as she tried to will the sadness in his voice from her mind.

“1:11.” Chris stated from beside her and Mr. Hanley pursed his lips and nodded; Mr. Hanley wasn’t going to be the one to tell his wife they were late. His eyes turned to his daughter,

“No wheelchair, Reese?”

“I’ve been through enough embarrassment with out that awkward contraption.” Reese muttered, her gaze still fixated on the flower bed of Impatiens and Pansies. Her father didn’t speak again and it was silence that told Reese he understood. Not a moment later, Mrs. Hanley exited the house. She was dressed in her ivory suit while a large outrageous designer hat in a matching color sat atop her head.

“Drive, Rodger.” Mrs. Hanley ordered shortly and all too soon the limousine was moving smoothly away from the house. The car was filled with a deafening silence that both Reese and Chris took gratefully. It was the calm before the storm, the silence before the sobs, and the bearable before the unbearable. Wordlessly Chris took Reese’s small cut and bruised hand into his own larger calloused one. Reese rested her head on Chris’s shoulder and closed her eyes, silently praying to fast forward over the next three hours.

_______________________________________________________________________

Funerals. Reese hated them. No one loved them obviously but Reese hated them so much she wanted to leave as soon as she entered the funeral parlor—even if it was for Ashley. She hated everything from the old rugs on the floor to the stale air to the dead silence. Funerals made Reese’s skin crawl, it made her throat tighten and her jaw to clench in silence. When forced to relatives’ funerals Reese and Ashley used to hide in other rooms and pretend to be elsewhere. Unfortunately Ashley wasn’t here to hide with Reese as she escaped out the parlors back doors to the fresh air. Yet even the new clean air seemed deadened to Reese.

Reese swallowed hard, unable to rid of the invisible obstruction in her throat. Family, friends, co workers, kids from school, they had all meant well in coming to Ashley’s funeral and offering Reese their condolences but their condolences, their kindness, their sympathy was slowly killing Reese. She didn’t want sympathy, she didn’t want comfort, and she pulled a piece of paper from the clutch under her arm it was this that brought her the most comfort.

Reese closed her eyes and tried feel normal again, willing her heart and soul to mend just a little to allow her to recognize normalcy. But nothing happened, the wind blew against her face and she didn’t feel the comfort of a southern breeze, she heard a bird chirping happily in a tree and wasn’t reminded of the birds that used to sing outside her window, she heard distant cars wooshing by and wasn’t reminded of the long walks once taken with Ashley, Chris, and Nixon. Reese felt nothing. This place reminded her of nothing, it felt like nothing, this place was not home anymore.

A figure moved from the corner of the building Reese jumped, mentally cursing herself as she turned to meet Nixon’s oaken orbs. Reese had barely made eye contact with anyone all night, the sympathy that leaked from them suffocated her. But sympathy didn’t lie in Nixon’s eyes only a knowingness, subtle concern, and mild interest but no overwhelming emotion directed at her—and Reese was thankful.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, “didn’t mean to scare you.” It wasn’t a true apologize but the same mumbled line every one voiced every time someone startled the notoriously jumpy Reese Lynn Hanley.

Reese nodded mutely and shoved the paper into her back pocket. If anything managed to shut Reese up it was funerals. Not because she was overwhelmed with sadness but the atmosphere funerals promised.
She turned away from Nixon then, gazing instead at the scenery the back end of the parlor faced; a quiet road, quaint simplistic houses, a farmers field—other peoples normalcy. Reese tried to imagine what the life must be like, white picket fences, doting soccer moms, fathers who worked 9-5 jobs then returned home and kissed their wives in greeting, children who had tire swings, swimming holes, and lightning bugs and at the end of each night as the children watch their fire flies in fascination their parents would kiss them goodnight and perhaps read them a bed time story.

This had never been Reese and Ashley’s existence. While Ashley had never resented the luxury of money but was also never shallow in its use Reese had never been able to forgive their cold depressed mother and their parents absence. Reese had never been able to loose her resentment toward having Ashley and herself learn the art of making PB & J when they were merely 4 years old because in a blind rage their mother had fired the current maid. Reese had never gotten over the ability to feel sorry for herself when she saw picture perfect families on tvs. She’d never been able to lessen her sadness to not ever truly being ever given the chance at a normal childhood. Reese had never felt a sense of home in the place she resided in, she’d never felt normal going to school and having everyone know that hers was the richest around and having all the children hate her for it. Normalcy began when Chris had introduced her to Nixon. Reese had always felt like a third wheel to the budding romance that had always been Chris and Ashley. Nixon offered her friendship, a shoulder to lean on, a face to rant to without judgment. Chris could have never known that Reese and Nixon’s friendship would develop into a relationship more serious than even Ashley and Chris’s at the time. Nixon and Reese had grown inseparable and it was not uncommon for Rees to live at his house when her parents went away on one their many trips.

Nixon and Reese had always assumed their futures would coincide, always. In fact on one occasion the two had lightheartedly described their perfect house…actually it looked very similar to the one Reese looked at now.

“Where is your head, Reese?” She’d hardly noticed that Nixon had crept closer. A distant pro-Nixon side of her brain noted how good his word choice was. Nixon was always good with words and it transferred to his lyrics. While everyone was always asking her how she was doing only Nixon could ask her the same in such a way that she wouldn’t bristle at them.

“When I used to think of home I used to think of the house I lived in, not because I considered it home but because everyone’s idea of home was that. But now?” Her voice was barely an emotionless whisper. “I don’t know.” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t feel anything for the house I live in, even as I look at that house with chipped white fencing I don’t know if that is what a home looks like.”

“Reese,” Nixon began tentatively, his voice controlled and his words careful as though his words were walking through a mine field and the wrong octave, the wrong miscommunication of a word and everything would explode. “You’re in shock.”

Reese swallowed hard and blinked a few times, looking away from the house. A part of her knew she was in shock, an emotional disconnect, but the other half of her was so eerily rational it unnerved her with her brains resolution to the both the rational and shell shocked sides of her. Reese had come to a position in her life that no amount of comfort and therapy could cure. It was as though life was a piece of concrete and a crack develops from blunt force and suddenly a section is not connected to a bigger whole. Reese was not connected to the bigger whole of her friends and family.

“Maybe,” She admitted offhandedly. She couldn’t face Nixon, even after everything Nixon knew her best, all those years of a serious chemistry driven relationship had not been nothing. Nixon knew how to handle her better than anyone else, he knew how her mind came to conclusions, he knew the darkest recesses of her minds better than anyone…at least he did. “I just…I don’t know where home is anymore.”

Reese turned her attention to her brutally assaulted fingertips. Reese had not been able to stop peeling away the skin from her fingernails, what had originally started as a snagged hangnail had progressed. The nail of her index finger scrapped along her thumb until it snagged on a piece of skin.
Nixon had crossed the space between them and grabbed her soft cold assaulted hand into his warm calloused one. He held her hand as gingerly as a baby bird in his own, his eyes now fully flooded with concern as he inspected her brutalized fingertips.

“Reesie…” he murmured at a loss of words.

“What?” She yanked her hand back from his defensively.

Nixon stared at her, hardly recognizing the girl before him. Her tan had faded to a pale white parlor from the weeks in hospitals then being shut in doors. The spark in her eye was gone, the passion in her veins extinguished. Reese was a shell of herself. Parts of her, great parts, having died with Ashley. Yet as Nixon inspected her fingertips he couldn’t help but wonder how big a part of he’d lost. Nixon cursed himself, she wasn’t his any longer and he had no right to think of her as any connection to himself.

Determination suddenly flashed before his eyes. He was still Kenneth Nixon, he was still the only one who could get to her when she clamped up. He reached around behind her and snatched the paper from her pocket.

“You think this is going to make you feel normal?” He demanded angrily showing her the paper. Reese looked at the paper thrust before her eyes, <B>United Airlines</B> gazing back at her. “What is Baltimore going to give you Reese?”

Her response fueled her emotion from an empty shell to a brokenly determined girl. “John Hopkin’s.”

His face contoured in confusion, his determination momentarily draining. “A hospital? But your bet-“

“Medical school.” Reese continued levelly. “I couldn’t save Ashley, the doctors couldn’t save Ashley…but maybe I could save someone else’s Ashley.”

Her words sunk in and Nixon’s eyes began to shine. His gaze, now reproachful and hopeful saw that she was not a dead empty shell of a girl he’d once loved, but of a girl trying everything in her power to heal herself of a wound that no one else could do for her. Within this girl Nixon saw the greatest parts of Reese’s personality; her compassion, her love, her determination. For the first time since Ashley’s death Reese appeared to someone as something other than broken.

Strong.

“Besides…” She mumbled in an afterthought. “If Ashley couldn’t make a career out of a photographer she wanted to be a doctor…maybe I can make her dream live somehow…”

Nixon swallowed the lump in his throat. “I can’t make you stay can I Reesie?”

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips as one single solitary tear rolled down her cheek. She reached up and touched the soft contour of his cheek. Her eyes scanned over his features at this distance, it had been a long time since she’d been this close to this man. The ever kindness in his eyes was present admits their glossiness. The lip piercing that she had gone with him to get which she adored, the pink of his lips that she ran her thumb of her.

“No,” She whispered shaking her head as another tear threatened to escape. She swallowed and titled her head to the side. “You can’t.” Her hand fell and the moment passed as she stepped away from him. “Take care of him,” They both knew she meant Chris.

She slipped around him and disappeared around the building to call for a cab, but not before Nixon called after her,

“I’m sorry Reese!” They both knew that out of all of the apologizes spoken her way this night that this one was not about Ashley.

But Reese never turned around, she never glanced back at Nixon as he watched her disappear.

She disappeared and she never returned.