Falling to Pieces

Obviously she wouldn’t remember me. She probably would try to avoid me after that display.
“Rough day, little brother?” Lindsey asked sliding onto his lap.
“Little?” he chuckled, “How can you compare yourself to me and say I’m little.”
“Your intelligence,” she answered.
“I’ve been a grad-“
“Bla bla bla,” she groaned.
He laughed and slid her off to go get a beer. He opened the fridge.
“Ok,” he said,” New rule: if you drink the last of the beer, you buy refills.”
Joel sighed and went to his room and slammed the door shut. He opened the second pack of the day and stuck a cigarette in his mouth, before lighting it.
He lay on his back and closed his eyes. What was the reason he had to live like this? Why did he have to live pay check to pay check? And why was the only job he could keep suck so bad? A cashier at Wal-Mart, terrific.
“Joel,” Lindsey whined, knocking on his door.
“FOR ALL THAT IS HOLY, LEAVE ME ALONE!” He shouted.
She opened the door anyway.
“Yeah, because we’re holy as Saints,” she said sarcastically, even though her eyes were concerned. She sat on the edge of his bed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Joel sighed and put his head on her lap. She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair.
“I met this human,” he said, “And it kind of got to me, you know? I just thought about how I was designed to kill. I mean I could have killed her—“
“Wait, her?” She asked.
“Her name is Rosella,” he answered.
“You’re screwed.”
“Thanks,” he grumbled.
“Go on,” she said, the smile clear in her voice, “You were feeling sorry for yourself.”
Joel rolled his eyes. “She looked really demented. I mean her hair was all in her face, she looked like she was about to cry, it was horrible. So naturally I offered her a cigarette.”
Linds nodded. “Naturally.”
“And I knew she didn’t want one, the last thing she needed was lung cancer, but she took one anyway. And she made this little remark. She said that if she died of lung cancer, she hoped it was on my conscious”
“Ok, continue.”
“So we talked a bit. I asked for her name, where she was from.”
“Where?”
“South Carolina.”
“Interesting. Was that it?”
“Yeah, I asked her to walk with me to class—,”
“Aww…”
“Yeah then I caught a whiff of her scent.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah then I ran away and ditched class.”
Lindsey laughed. “Smooth.”
Joel sat up and put out his cigarette. “I probably can redeem myself.”
“Oh, most defiantly. I have the utmost faith in you.” Lindsey said with clear sarcasm.
“So pizza tonight?” Joel sighed.
“Whose turn is it to buy?” Lindsey asked.
Joel pulled out his wallet. “I’ve got six bucks.”
Lindsey went to get her purse. “I’ve got a ten.”
“Pizza it is!” Joel yelled with mock enthusiasm.
“I don’t suppose we’ll have enough for beer,” Lindsey said.
Joel frowned. “No, guess we’ll have to drink water.”
“We won’t even have that if we keep putting off the water bill,” Lindsey sighed.
Joel stood up and went into the kitchen. “I guess we’ll have to cut out something.”
“We don’t have anything to give up,” She said.
Joel opened the door to the empty fridge.
“Unless you want to quit buying smokes,” Linds said.
Joel closed his eyes. “I’ll cut back, but I don’t have the will power to quit completely.”
“And I guess I could look for a second job,” She sighed.
Joel looked at her. “I’m not asking you to do that.”
“I know but I have the spare time,” she said.
“Linds, I don’t have to go to school. God, I’ve graduated three times and I went to college enough times.”
“You’re smart enough to get a decent job,” Linds said.
“I have the degrees of a forty year old, but the body of a reckless nineteen year old, I can’t get a decent job, no one will hire me. How can we live a normal life if we can’t even afford anything?”
Lindsey came over and put her arms around Joel. “Joel, Hon, we’re fine. You don’t need to stress yourself over nothing.”
Joel hugged his “sister” close. “We live in a dump and can’t afford to keep it running, I don’t call that fine. We can’t afford to buy groceries for a week. How is that fine?”
“Things will brighten up, Joel, I promise. Go to school tomorrow and talk to Rosella, ok? Don’t worry about anything else. You already do so much for me and Ryan.”
Joel smiled and kissed her cheek. “Speaking of Ryan, where is he?”
“He’s in his room watching ‘Mulan’,” she said.
Joel chuckled. “God, he makes me feel like a parent some times.”
Lindsey shook her head. “I know.”
Joel picked up the phone and dialed the pizza company. “Remind me to pay the electric Friday.”

* * * *
Then next morning I awoke with tears on my cheeks. I didn’t know if they had just been shed, or if I had been crying all though the night. I brushed them away before they were engraved into my cheeks, for they were dense with bitter sadness.
My dreams had turned to my mother. In the dream I was six and my mom had me in her lap as we sat in front of a camp fire. The twisting and crackling of orange flames made my mother even more beautiful.
My brother, who was nine at the time, came out and lay down on the springy grass. He pointed at the sky and said:
“That’s the Orion’s belt.”
My mother smiled. “That’s right. You know your grandmother and I use to say that was our constellation and where ever we were, we would always be together if we looked up at the stars. I asked her why when I was little, and she said ‘Because you can see the same stars wherever you go. They’ll never leave you.’”
I remember as a child, looking up and made myself remember those cluster of stars. I smiled.
Then the dream switched to my mother teaching me how to cook her secret recipe for chocolate chip cookies. I was eleven then and loved everything she did. I prayed every night that I’d be just like her. Her free-spirit, her beauty.
Then the dream dramatically changed. I was sixteen and my brother was nineteen. Kyle was home for college and we were playing Dance, Dance, Revolution. We were laughing at Kyle’s lack of skills when it happened: my mother fainted.
I screamed through tears.
Kyle had the phone and called 911, while I kneeled next to my mother. I held her hand and pleaded to her.
“No, please don’t go,” I whispered.
I wasn’t aware of people pulling me away and into Kyle’s arms. All my hope and faith died that night. Soon nothing seemed worth living for.
I changed into a simple outfit, put on shoes, stuck my hair up, and went downstairs.
Thomas was eating toast and greasy bacon.
“Hello,” he said.
I glanced at him. “Hey.”
“Sleep ok?” he asked politely.
I shrugged, “I guess.”
He nodded and continued his breakfast. I grabbed my key and left the house. I walked down the streets to the subway in a daze.
Classes went by without any sign of him and I walked to IB English alone. I sat down right when class began to start. Mr. Andrews was beginning to open up poetry to the class.
“I want you to-“he cut off as the door opened. Inside stepped Joel.
He sat next to me and smirked. I smiled back.
“I want you to write a poem,” Mr. Andrew said.
Some of the guys groaned, others laughed.
“Author?” He asked, looking over my shoulder.
I blushed, embarrassed that he had read over my shoulder.“Just a silly ambition.”
Joel was silent. Then he said, “You’re good. I mean you’re really good.”
I looked at him and saw his expression. It was between hurt and puzzled. He was in deep thought.
“What?” I asked.
He shook his head, bringing himself back to reality. “Is that how you feel?”
I shrugged. “It depends on how you look at it. In the end everyone is heartbroken; I don’t even think there is such a thing a love. It’s just a cycle.”
Joel smirked and sat on my desk. “Explain to me this cycle of which you speak of?”
I scowled at him. “Well think about it. When someone is happy they enjoy and rejoice only to be heartbroken tomorrow. It’s just a never ending, unmerciful cycle.”
He nodded like he understood, and to be honest it kinda annoyed me. He didn’t understand.
“You need a smoke,” he said. That was his solution; his answer to my long debated theory of love, happiness, and life in general. And I loved it.
“Alright Mr. Carters would you like to read your poem?”
Joel stood and began to read from his crumpled paper. He wasn’t really reading a poem either. It was just jumbled thoughts of meaning that the other students failed to miss. His velvet voice was amazingly beautiful enough to erase all the errors in his poem.
“Ms. Conners?”
So I got up and read mine quickly before the emotions got to me.
The bell rung.
As I ran out of class, someone caught my wrist.
“Wanna smoke?” He asked.
I laughed, “School’s not over yet!”
“So, let’s go.”
So I said yes, against my better judgment and snuck out the back doors. We passed the geeks and losers, then went to our spot behind the school. He sat against the wall and pulled out his pack of smokes. He smiled and gave me one and a lighter.
I took it and lit, and stuck it in my mouth. I looked at him, who had already smoked a lot. “I thought you said not to smoke it down fast.”
He smiled bleakly and looked up at me with haunted eyes, “You smoke just because, I smoke to die.”
I looked away feeling tears tingling behind my eyes. I was too numb
Suicide.
I’ve thought about it many times but I had my stars with me.
“Why?” I mumbled.
He sighed. “Too much. Don’t want to talk about it.”
I inhaled more smoke. “Let’s go to class.”
He looked at me mischievously. “Let’s go somewhere.”
I smiled. “Like where?”
He took my hand. “I’ll show you.”
My situation looked bleak: I’m in a car with a guy I only met two days ago, whom I stared smoking with and skipping classes. And I don’t know where I’m going.
“Scared?” he sneered.
I looked back at him. “No.”
He smirked. “Liar.”
I laughed and turned on his radio. I flipped through a few stations before I decided on “Lips of an Angel,” by Hinder.
Sweetie could you hear your voice saying my name, it sounds so
Sweet
Coming from the lips of an Angel…
Joel turned it up and began singing along with me. We were singing and laughing now, and at the same time it made our singing sound weird.
He pulled up to a building that looked like a castle. It was beautiful and had a statue carved in a marble in front of the entrance.
“Where are we?” I asked.
He smiled and got out of the car. I followed, puzzled, and walked up the stone steps with him. He walked far ahead of me, as if he couldn’t wait to get inside.
When I walked through the doors, I stopped walking. There were paintings everywhere. Each one different; weather it was in color or style.
Joel looked at me and smiled. “Do you like it?”
I turned my attention back to him.
“Yes, it’s so pretty.”
He laughed and took my hand then led me quickly to another room with paintings. Once we got in, he quickly dropped my hand.
“Do you know this one?” He asked.
I stared at the painting; it looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I might have seen it.
“I don’t-“
“It’s Divinchi,” he said, “Starry Night.”
The painting was so eerie and bleak. It reminded me of a perspective.
“What do you think?” He asked. “I mean it’s my favorite painting, but I’d love to hear your opinion.”
Then I realized what it was, my night sky with only a few stars to keep me going. “My life.”
He lost his smile. “How?”
I was lost in the painting as I spoke, “I compare my life to a dark night with only a few stars. You know points of light to light the way, to keep me going.”
He looked at me forlornly. I could feel his eyes gazing at me, drilling a hole in me.
Finally he turned and led me through the other rooms. We passed structures, photography, and sketches. Then we ended up in the gardens behind the art museum.
I never would have thought that there could be a garden in New Yuck. He led me to a marble seat, where we took a seat away from the crowd.
“So art is your passion?” I asked looking at him.
Joel smiled and nodded. “You could say that.”
“Do you paint?”
He nodded again. He sat on the very edge of the bench, as if he couldn’t stand to be near me.
“What about you?”
I looked at him.
“What about me?”
He laughed. “I mean your hobbies. Your likes and dislikes.”
I stared at him. “I’ve only known you for less than two days. How do I know you’re not a stalker?”
He laughed again. “I promise you I’m not a stalker. I’m just curious.”
“Why?”
“You’re interesting,” he said shrugging, “You’re not like most people.”
I stared at him completely interested now. “Most people?”
He sighed, almost frustrated.
I looked away, suddenly aware of his piercing stare.
“Literature,” I said.
He paused.
“What?”
I looked back at him. “I like literature.”

We ended up getting ice cream and talking about books. He loved books just about as much as I did. It seemed like our minds worked the same way, worked on AM when the rest of the world was on FM. We both had more anger than the rest of those listeners on FM could only dream of. However, it’s like we learn how to drown it all out with passion, whether it was art, music, literature. Somehow it all seemed to block out all the nightmares and pain in the unmerciful shadows.
“But you see, movies have their purpose too,” he argued, “It paints a clear picture in the viewer’s head, unlike books…”
“Which lets you think for yourself,” I interrupted, “in movies all you see is the director’s view of the story. When you watch the movie, your creativity is unimportant.”
He shook his head. “No. Think about it. In a movie, when you’re watching it for the first time you’re constantly making predictions.”
“For the first time! Then the next time you watch it it’s ruined. In a book, each time you read it, the pictures in your mind become more vivid.”
Then he broke out laughing, which caused me to laugh as well.
“ you’re not like most people.”
“Neither are you,” I giggled.
I looked out at the horizon and saw the setting behind the clouds on my perfect day. I glared at it, as if I could scare it so it would stay in one place.
“What?” Joel suddenly asked.
I looked at him. His blue-violet eyes stared at me under his black hair.
“The sun,” I said.
“What about it?” he asked, puzzled.
I smiled wistfully. “It’s setting.”
He was still confused, but he didn’t want to get into it, so he asked, “What about music?”
And so the argument began:
“Amy Lee does not suck!” I yelled, stomping away.
“I meant her band!” He yelled coming after me.
I turned around. “Evanescence does not suck, the Fray does, you tone deaf—
“Take that back!” He yelled dramatically.
“Take back what you said about Evanescence,” I said.
“How about I apologize and I buy you a pack of smokes,” he said.
I thought about it then I agreed. He laughed and we walked to the nearest gas station. He picked up two packs and a lighter.
“I suppose you don’t have one,” he said handing me a lighter with a rose on it.
I smiled as we walked out into the dimly lit world. The sun was almost gone now and I could see the stars coming out.
“It’s a shame you cant see them here,” I said.
“What?” he asked.
I looked back up at the dim stars.
“The lights of the city are too bright to see them.”
I laughed silently to myself when I realized the little metaphor I had in my head.
And when I looked back down he was gone. And I wondered if I had only made him up. I wondered if he was a ghost, just a haunting gnawing at my brain… slowly eating away my sanity.