A Million Shattered Pieces

Chapter Twenty-One

- "We are all broken, that's how the light gets in."

"I've made an appointment with the doctor for you. She's going to look into getting you to see someone to talk about your anxiety."

I paused, turning away from my mirror to look at my mother, who stood in the doorway to my room. The shirt she wore made the green in her irises pop out.

People had always said that I looked like my mother, though I couldn't see it. Other than our similar build, and the both of us having hazel eyes, there was nothing about us that was the same. She had dark olive skin that always seemed to have a wonderful glow to it, and chocolate-brown hair sprinkled with streaks of red. The undertones of her skin were warm, where mine were cool. We were so similar in appearance, yet so different.

I sighed. "Sure. When is this appointment supposed to take place?"

Mom took another step into the room. She studied my collection of books before perching at the foot of my bed. "The eleventh of this month."

All at once, the warmth in the room seemed to seep out. I watched her through my mirror. "I can't do it then. It's Brock's birthday."

"I can't reschedule, Claire. Don't you think Brock can wait? You two already spend so much time together, I'm beginning to think he might have something to do with this."

"He is not the reason I have anxiety, Mother." She flinched when I called her that. She hated the word. "This has been part of me for a long time, so don't go blaming someone else. It's nobodies fault."

She continued to stare at me. The silence that passed between us made me shift uncomfortably, and I looked back at my reflection. "Can we look into getting me contacts? I want to try them for prom."

My mother sighed. "Sure. Claire, sweetheart, is there anything you need to tell me? You can trust me, you know. I won't tell anyone."

I debated telling her about Brock's depression. She still had no idea, though I knew she suspected. Our parents had never spoken to each other. It would feel too real if that happened.

I shook my head, and grabbed my purse from its spot hanging on my doorknob. "No. I'm good. What time do you want me to be home tonight?"

She watched me, and I knew based on the looks she gave that I was not convincing. It seemed all mothers had this inner radar that told them when there was something bothering their children.

"Be home by eleven. I trust you enough to allow you to go out later, but don't think I won't come find you if I have to."

I smiled, crossing the room to press a quick kiss to her cheek. "I'll be home before then. It's just dinner tonight. Don't worry, Mom, I'm a good girl."

Her laugh helped to make me feel better. "I know you are. Tell Brock I say hi."

I nodded. A honk outside made us both jump. Mom laughed some more, giving my hands a quick but firm squeeze and letting go. I called out a farewell to my father, who hid in my parents' bedroom. His muffled reply followed me down the stairs.

Brock had a huge grin on his face when I got in the car.

"Hello to you, too," I said, reaching back for the seat-belt. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I missed you."

"It's been four hours since you saw me."

His grin grew as he started up the car and drove off. "Four hours is a long time."