A Million Little Pieces

Chapter 3

I remember the night before he ran away, about two weeks before I died. We were sitting by my bedroom window. "I'm sorry, Lucy, I can't take this anymore," Jamie spoke softly tears threatened his eyes "Ever since my father died my mother has never been the same. She's forcing me to be a lawyer I-" He stopped before he could finish, he was trying to stop himself from crying. This was hard for Jamie as he never tried to conceal how he was feelings. I reached up a gentle hand to caress his face and he leaned in, closing his eyes. "What's wrong?Whatever it is you'll be ok." I said in a shaky voice to which he responded "No Lucy not this time I'm going away for a bit." My heart stopped for a moment. The feeling was similar as to walking up one morning to find the sky missing the sun. "No you can't leave, where are you going?" My thoughts were racing searching for the right thing to say to make him stay. Jamie reached up and tucked a brown strand of hair behind my ear. "You know I can't ask that of you, I know you'll be ok don't worry." Jamie whispered and smiled a sad smile. It was like the world was spinning I couldn't make him stay and I couldn't stop him from leaving. It felt awful knowing I couldn't be what he needed I couldn't fix everything. He was like a ray of sunshine on my days, and no matter  how hard I tried I wasn't making his days brighter. That night I just wasn't enough for him. So after he planted a kiss on my forehead I let him slip through my fingers like sand. The very last time he'd ever see me the night did seem to missing stars, and my heart was missing mine.

                                                                                          ***

    I've been a bit negligent toward my parents, I haven't seen them since the funeral. I think I've been too scared to go into my house. To step into the place where all my good memories lie. I thought if I stepped back into that house the despair would tarnish my memory of it. Instead of the smell of my mother's cooking to welcome me I'd be greeted with the stench of mourn. I think Jamie thought the same when he stood at my parents' front door. He hesitated as he moved his clenched fist closer to the door and knocked. A women with blond hair that ran down to her shoulders answered the door. It was my mother staring at Jamie with her big mint green eyes. "Jamie! I'm so glad to see you." She proclaimed and her pale lips upturned. My mother always found a way to smile during arduous times. I admired her for that, she always considered herself the rock for everyone else. Mom jerked Jamie inside the house and I followed. The house looked exactly how it did before I died which surprised me for a reason unknown to me. Pictures on the walls in the exact same place. Instead of being filled with despair I was filled with nostalgia.                My mother led Jamie to the living room where I saw my dad. A wave of pity took over my chest when I saw dad. He wasn't as well at hiding his feeling like mom was and it was evident in his hazel eyes. Instead of his chestnut hair being combed back it was hanging like straw from his head. He looked up then at mom like she was the sun. Mom took her spot next to him and Jamie took a seat in a chair across from them. My parents' fingers soon found each other and interlocked. Their love was a tenacious and never-ending one. "Hi Jamie how are you?" My father broke the silence his voice laced with concern. "I was going to ask that of you. I'm hanging on the best I can." Jamie sighed and a dark strand of hair fell over his cheek. Instinctively I reached out to put it back in it's place which unsurprisingly didn't work. "We understand it's all any of us can do, but Jamie we have to tell you something." Mom shuddered then continued "The police found Lucy's phone and they told us that she died looking at a text...from you. Jamie I'm sorry." I could only imagine the sinking feeling Jamie felt. I thought his brown eyes couldn't look more miserable than in that moment. It was like whatever he said he was hanging onto before just let him go. "I killed Lucy? I-I'm so sorry you must hate me." Jamie stammered "I killed the love of my life." My father placed his hand on Jamie's shoulder and made penetrating eye contact, "Do no blame yourself, Jamie. Blame is a destructive thing that can start wars. Lucy would not blame you and neither do we." My dad was right, I never blamed Jamie for it because it wasn't his fault. I only wish I could tell him that somehow. "Know that you're always welcome here no matter what James," Mom was smiling now trying to maintain herself, "If it isn't too painful you can go into Lucy's room and take somethings we don't mine she would've wanted you to." It was then that Jamie spoke he looked miles away "Thank you so much you guys are so caring and loving." He then pushed himself off the wooden chair and started walking down the hallway to the front door. I think Jamie would've gotten there too if he hadn't passed my room door. He was standing right in front of my room door with his hand on the silver knob. It was like the moment in a movie before the climax, and I was jumping up praying for him to open the door. If he did maybe he'd remember all our times together and he'd know I couldn't ever blame him. To blame him for my death is like splitting my heart in two just to stomp on the other half. I could never do that to him. Jamie slowly lifted his fingertips from the handle turned around and left.                                                                               
I wasn't ready to leave my house or parents just yet. When I went back into the living room my parents hadn't moved at all. My mother leaned in closer to my father and whispered, "Our hearts have stood together through so many troubles beating in sync with each other, and now is no different." Dad squeezed my mother's hand, he knew she was right. "I've been having dreams of her you know," He sighed "They're so vivid I could hear her laugh and see her smile. I remember when she'd strut into the living room with her laptop tucked under her arm and her hair up in a bun strands of hair hugging her face. I'd instantly know she was writing something because Lucy poured her soul into everything she wrote. You know how you mentioned earlier about going into her room well I've been wanting to get her laptop or notebooks and read one of her stories. I keep having a dream where she published a book and became famous for it. It makes me heartbroken whenever I wake up. All they do is remind me of the reality we're living and the pain we have to go through." My heart felt like it was being tied to a string and dragged along. The fact that one person could cause so much agony was astonishing. The tragedy of me was turning into the tragedy of everyone who knew me. I was the one who died, how could all these people be in anguish because of me? The dream my father had was a dream I had hoped would be reality for me someday. Now it is my fault that I won't. I looked up then into a small mirror on the other side of the room. I don't know if it was a trick of the light, but I could've sworn my yellow tank top had a ripped strap.