All the Little Pieces

‘Everyone? How many people?’

‘I dunno, about thirty or forty.’

‘Wow. When did you plan this?’

‘I dunno. A week or so ago.’

‘Thanks for the notice.’

‘Yeah, I thought I told ya. I get it if you can’t make it. We live so far away. What’s Jar call it up here? Bumfuck?’

Three years later and Big Mitts was still holding onto the comment he wasn’t supposed to have heard. ‘He was kidding, Nick.’

‘Yeah, I know. I’m only busting chops, Faithey. Look, I get it if you can’t make it. The weather sucks and it’s a long drive. No big deal. Char will understand.’

Of course Nick would understand if Faith didn’t make it, because he didn’t want her to make it. The kids had probably been bugging him all morning, asking if Aunt Faith and Uncle Jarrod and Maggie were coming to Mommy’s party. That’s likely what had prompted the phone call. That and Charity would be livid if she found out her only sister – her only sibling – wasn’t invited to her birthday party.

‘I’ll be there,’ Faith had said.

What? Jarrod had mouthed again.

‘Great,’ Nick had unenthusiastically replied.

‘Save the couch for me. I’ll drive home in the morning.’

‘You might be sharing it with a new friend, Faithey.’ She hated when he called her that. Absolutely hated it. It was Charity’s pet name for her since they were kids, but when Nick said it, it felt like he was mocking her. ‘I think T-Bone’s already called it,’ he added with a chuckle that she knew was accompanied by a smirk.

Most of Nick’s friends had nicknames, too: T-Bone, Skinny, Slick, Gator. But they weren’t gang members or cops or Mafioso – they were just grown men with nicknames.

‘Tell T-Bone he can sleep in his car; I’m calling the couch,’ Faith replied coolly.

‘Daddy, tell Aunt Faif to bring Maggie!’ said a little voice with a lisp in the background.

‘Well, if you’re coming, bring Maggie,’ Nick had said. ‘The kids’ll all be upstairs, locked in. We won’t let ’em come down for the stripper. Promise.’

‘You’re kidding, right?’

‘Yes, I’m kidding. I’m not getting my wife a stripper. At least, not one she’d be interested in watching, although that’s a fun idea and it would make her a real fun wife if she was into it. I’ll get the kids pizza. And, ah, Jarrod too,’ he’d added hesitantly. ‘I, ah, hope he can make it.’

Jarrod had stopped mouthing What? because he had figured out what What? was and he wanted no part of Nick’s couch. He slumped down in his seat and hid behind the paper, like a kid in class who doesn’t want to be called on.

‘Have you looked out a window?’ Jarrod had asked as Faith was buckling Maggie into her car seat a couple of hours later. She clutched Eeyore in one hand and a pouch of fruit juice in the other.

‘It’s her birthday, Jarrod. You know what she’s going through. All his friends are gonna be there – probably only his friends. Knowing Nick, he’ll invite the next mistress. It’s only rain; I’ll be fine.’

‘Since you must’ve missed it on the news, I’ll be the one to tell you that there’s a tropical storm happening. That’s the first thing. Second, these are not normal people, Faith. This is not gonna be a normal party.’

Jarrod was not a fan of either Nick or Charity’s. Faith’s sister and her husband ran in completely different social circles: Jarrod was a former criminal defense lawyer and Nick was a scheming petty criminal. His trade was fixing transmissions, but he was always looking for a way to beat the system, score unemployment, cheat the IRS. Aside from the weather and the Dolphins, there wasn’t much for the two of them to talk about when they did get together, unless Nick wanted to put Jarrod on retainer. Charity wasn’t like that necessarily, but having Kammy so young and marrying Nick had made her completely dependent on him and it had changed her. That’s the Charity Jarrod saw.

‘You’re being dramatic,’ she’d said.

‘Drama is your sister’s middle name. Wait till she finds Nick in thebathroom banging another one of her girlfriends – you’ll see some drama.’

‘Jarrod …’ she’d scolded, nodding at Maggie, who’d sat quietly watching both of them, the blonde pigtails on the top of her head flopping about as she followed the conversation.

‘Better hide the cutlery,’ he’d added.

‘You’re welcome to come.’

‘I’ve never wanted to write a motion for summary judgment as badly as I do today.’

‘I bet.’

‘I’d like to talk you out of making a two-hundred-mile drive in a tropical storm is what I’d like to do.’

‘I wish he’d consulted me before he planned it,’ she replied, ‘but I wasn’t even on the D list of invitees, apparently.’

‘Stay home. With me.’

‘Come with us.’ She smiled. ‘On second thought, that’s a terrible idea; you’d be miserable. What are you gonna do all by yourself on a rainy night?’ Even as she asked the question the unsettling, queasy feeling roiled her stomach. She hated that feeling. She hated that, after all these months, she still couldn’t stop having it. She wondered if she’d ever not get nauseous at the thought of what might happen when she left her husband home alone. She looked away, out the open garage door.

He knew what she was thinking. ‘Order a pizza and finish my motion.’

She nodded.

He came up behind her and rubbed her shoulders. ‘I don’t have a good feeling about this. The weather is brutal,’ he said softly, kissing the back of her head. ‘You’re going up to Orlando next week, anyway. Your sister will understand. We can cook something special tonight, chill out with the rain.’

‘I can’t miss this party. We’ll be home tomorrow afternoon.’

‘What about St Andrew’s?’

‘It’s preschool; Maggie can miss a day. And she gets to see her cousins!’ she’d added, turning her attention back to her daughter with a big smile. ‘That’s pretty exciting, right?’

‘What’s cutlery?’ Maggie had asked, as a gust of wind ripped an enormous frond off a Royal Palm. It crashed to the ground outside the garage, steps from where she and Jarrod were standing.

Another streak of lightning cut across the sky, pulling Faith’s thoughts out of her garage and back into the moment. In the instantaneous flash of brilliant light she saw the sprawling fields of cane stalks violently twisting in the wind – assembled in tight, neat rows, like a plant army getting ready to march. Then it all went black again.

Where the hell was she? She could only hope that she was still on 441 and not on her way to Tampa. She thought of the creepy zombie game that she and Charity used to play as kids, where you close your eyes and count and when you open them all the zombies are frozen in place, having silently advanced on you while your back was turned.

A cold shudder ran down her spine as she forged ahead into the endless black. She couldn’t help but fear what it might look like out there in the middle of nowhere when the lights flashed back on …

3 (#ud3744b4f-5cf0-5a2a-99b3-fc0bbd143ac6)

Jarrod was right: Charity did love her drama. Three hours into her party and feeling no pain – thanks to Nick’s hurricanes and more than a few glasses of wine – she decided to invite a little in. When she caught him chatting up some young girl in the living room, amnesty was over.

‘Why you gotta look at her like that?’ she’d demanded in a loud voice when he came into the kitchen to get a beer.

‘What?’ he’d asked, obviously annoyed.