Broken Read Online Free PDF Page B

heavy feeling. There was no
way I could absorb any more, or process what the hell had just
happened. That little trip, or whatever it was, had sucked
everything out of me.
    I put the earrings on the coffee table and climbed into bed.
    Again, I turned off.
     
    When I woke the next morning, my head throbbed.
    I groaned and hauled my rear end out of bed. Another hot shower
was in tall order. This time I forced myself not to think about all
the shit that was going on. I just listened to the water run and
any time thoughts came — of Chris, or earrings, or my
parents, or Chris, or the death of my father, or Geoff, or diaries,
or little green men, or Chris, or needing to double my meds —
I bunched them up into a little ball and shoved them deep down into
some dark abyss where I wouldn’t think about them.
    That was until I was dressed and stepped out into the living
room where the little green man was waiting for me. He was
motioning for me to put the earrings on again.
    “I don’t think so,” I said. I grabbed my
runners and keys, then I slipped out the door. It was time for
rugby practice.
    I decided to jog to the park. If I walked, I might look at the
trees and shrubs, where I would likely find other little people
waving at me, or motioning for me to wear earrings.
    Sure enough, one quick glance to the old weeping willow across
the street confirmed my suspicions. Three little winged things were
trying to get my attention.
    I wondered if I should have called Dr. White first.
    I kept running, looking down at the pavement, the cars, the
streetlamps, anything that wasn’t verdant and lush. Thank
goodness I lived in the city. If I thought I was losing my mind
here, out in the country it would have been a one way ticket to
Looneyville. As a child, I’d almost gone there,
permanently.
    A few thoughts crept into my mind as I ran. I tried to flick
them away, but they were insistent on being pondered. The biggest
one was the little trip I had taken. It had to have been a bad mix of
something that triggered that, or maybe withdrawal from my meds.
Putting on a pair of earrings doesn’t take one down memory
lane, especially when a figment of my imagination told me to put
them on. How could I possibly have known what had happened to my
father? He had died of a heart attack, according to Joan.
    What scared me the most, I think, was the possibility I was
losing my mind.
    But then I thought about those diary pages again and that my
grandfather had seen the little green guy, and had received a cufflink
from Aunt Marigold.
    This was seriously messed up.
    The other thing that kept inching its way into my mind was ... what
if all of this was real? What if it wasn’t meds or
hallucinations? What if, for a moment, all of this was actually
real?
    Then my mother really
did
adopt me because she wanted to
preserve the life of her own offspring; the little man and all his
winged friends were actually real; the earring given to me by Aunt
Marigold must be connected to him; the woman must know something
about all of this because she’s mentioned in the diary pages;
the little trip I took last night was not conjured up by bad
alcohol or withdrawal; and my life was going to end sometime in the
next year and two days.
    I stopped suddenly, having reached the park.
    I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see Chris running to
catch up. That charming grin was on his face.
    I wondered if what was happening with Chris was real as well.
Could it be possible he was actually interested in me?
    I looked up to see if there were any flying pigs.
    Nope
.
    Chris stopped in front of me. “I’ve been calling you
for the last two blocks. Didn’t you hear me?”
    “Huh? No, sorry.”
    I was kind of surprised. I usually have pretty good hearing.
Those thoughts of mine must have had me buried.
    “You okay?” he asked. His hand rubbed my arm.
“I know yesterday was pretty rough.”
    I smiled — soft and demure.
    Why was I suddenly acting so mushy around