9
Jimmy
Pieces Of Me
Biting my knuckles with a groan and slumping back onto Iz’s couch, I contemplate pressing an electric drill to my temple. I need a distraction from Iz.
From her tears.
And her naked body.
I want to see much,muchmore of one, and so much less of the other, but every move I make only breaks us more. Every move I make hurts her. Everything I do pushes her further away, and I swear, she cries every single time we’re together.
I’m tired of seeing her cry.
I wonder if she might actually be happier without me around.
She doesn’t cry this much when she’s with the girls. Or with my brothers. Her tears are saved exclusively for me. I hurt her simply by existing. My plans were to hang around and kind of force her into a sense of familiarity. If I’m in her face every single day, in her life, she might forget that she hates me. Maybe she’ll begin to rely on me.
But all I’m doing is hurting her.
Scrubbing the heels of my palms over my eyes, I pick up my phone.
Me:Jon, can you pick Iz up today?
I send the text and start dressing. I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to leave her alone. Let her live a day that I don’t make her cry. It’s about time I take a hint and get lost.
Jon:Yeah, no problem. I’ll swing by in an hour. We have problems. Turn on the news.
Fuck. What next?
Swinging back to the TV, I pick up the remote and listen out for Iz. Shower’s running. I have five minutes to get going. I don’t want another confrontation. I just want to escape this life of rejection.
I switch the TV on and instantly recognize Kit’s house and the swarm of reporters trampling her not-so-beloved daisies.
“Fuck.” I scrub my hands through my hair and over my face. Why does everything have to be so damn hard?
I’m sure Bobby has it covered, but I’ll talk to him about security.
They can’t live like this. And neither can the rest of us.
I switch the television off and head out to my car. I was intending on leaving right away and going home for a shower, but now that the media are back, I don’t move until Jon’s truck swings onto the street.
With mutual nods and a passing of the guard, I let out a deep sigh and drive away.
Instead of home and shower, I swing onto Main Street. Food. Jonah’s store. Then Bobby’s. A protein bar and milk is all I have time for, because we have a problem on my brother’s lawn. I’ll shower at his place. Then we have shit to organize and a second day at the courthouse.
“Jimmy, hi.” I turn at the sound of gum popping and hair ruffling. With a nut bar in one hand and no milk yet, I come face to face with Belle, the daughter of the store owner, in tight jeans and impractical heels.
Belle’s my age. We’ve known each other since kindergarten.
“Oh. Hey, Belle.” Disappointment crashes over me when it’sjustBelle, and not Iz, or even Tina or one of the other girls.
I don’t want to see anyone but Iz, and ironically, I’m pretty fucking sure my time with her is up. The buzzer has sounded. Game over. I’m dead.
She doesn’t want me around anymore. Her pain is my pain, and all I want to do is make her happy.
Even if that means I’m not around anymore.