Broken Girl(61)

“Thanks, Briggs . . . and . . . I’m . . . sorry—”

“Rosie, I came to tell ya’ Sybil’s burial is tomorra’. Nine thirdy. I’ll be here at nine sharp, to pick you up.”

“I can’t go. I can’t watch them lower her in the ground. It just ain’t my thing.”

“Too bad. I’m takin’ you. Be ready me gir’, nine a.m. sharp.” He leaned in brushing his lips across my cheek before pressing them against my ear. “And, I ain’t takin’ no for an answer.” He pulled away and looked at me, strength twinkled in his eyes before he leaned in and planted one of the most delicate kisses on the corner of my mouth that I’ve ever felt in my entire life. An innocent, yet striking kiss that claimed his love for me, deeper than any physical attention would prove.

Mended.

Healed.

“I love you, Rosie, we’re family.” It was a slight enough acknowledgment of the truth in his words, before he turned on his heels and meandered out the front door.

Tomorrow, I was gonna get my chance to say goodbye to the only family I had left. Well, maybe not the only family.





I WOKE UP every hour on the hour until my alarm burped the f*cked up song from a clunky eighties band. Between the guilt about kissing Briggs last night and the scenarios that could happen at Sybil’s burial today, a storm of images kept flashing through my head. It was already gonna be a tough day, now add sleep deprivation to the list and I should be sweet as pie to be around.

Violent images of a blow by blow full-on fistfight between me and Martie erupted every time I closed my eyes, the dream would pick up where I had left it. Martie with a bloody nose, her eyes blackened by me beating the shit out of her. My eyes swollen to slits as the vision of my dreams morphed into a twisted moment where I clung to Briggs to make Shane jealous. Off the hook dreams that I knew weren’t real, but every time I woke up from them, I was disappointed by the reality that I was still stuck in my apartment waiting for my alarm to go off.

Today boiled down to the fact that I was destined to watch Sybil lowered into the ground, forever, a finality I wasn’t really ready to accept. Death came knocking on the wrong person’s door and there was nothing I could have done to change it. This was going to be the first time since I left the hospital where I had to face the fact that Sybil was gone forever. A situation where I knew her family would do everything in their power to keep me away.

I don’t like to be somewhere I’m not welcome. Hustling my six squares downtown was different, most of the people who didn’t want me hanging out were cops or other hos. But Sybil’s burial was a whole different situation. I was going to go walking into an already stirred up beehive with a big massive stick and clobber the hive until the queen falls from grace. I just know I’m gonna get stung.

I pulled on a black scoop neck top. Classic in its cut, it was my go-to shirt when I had to be more conservative than what the rest of my life required. I pulled my hair back into a careless loose bun and restrained from applying makeup the way I normally did. It was the best attempt at conservative that I could muster.

I had run away from closure my entire life, today there was no way I could run anymore. For the first time in a long time I was going to face the reality that my life had to change. And even though I wasn’t where I wanted to be financially before I stopped strolling the pavement, something had changed inside of me. Sybil’s death stirred in me a new desire to move on and prove to her that I was going to be okay, alone.

I rolled my lips together, evening out my lipstick when there was a knock at my door. I looked over at the clock, it was eight forty-five, and a little earlier than Briggs said he was going to pick me up. Without thinking I pressed my lips to the mirror, one last kiss for Sybil.

The chill of the mirror against my mouth kick-started the sobering idea of being in a car with Briggs. What the hell was I going to say to him? I f*cked up bad last night. I couldn’t believe I had kissed him, and actually had wanted to use him to take away all of my pain. I will never be able to take that back. Last night was so bad, a burning knot twisted down in my stomach. Silence swept the room, swallowing up my ability to open the door and face him. I simply froze.

“Aye, Rosie, it’s me, here to pick you up.” Briggs broke the silence and the breath I was holding escaped in a loud gasp.

“You okay?”

A million thoughts were drowning me.

“I’m fine,” I answered under my breath.

I pulled open the door and stood waiting for him to come in. Briggs eyes brushed over my body, a slight smile crested his lips.

“You look . . . nice,” he said. “I’ve never seen you wear somethin’ so conservative before.” His Irish accent thickened.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothin’. You just look nice and put togeth’r . That’s all.”

“Ha, well, looks can be deceiving.” I straightened the seam of my long pencil-cut black skirt.

Briggs narrowed his eyes, answering my smart-ass remark with his expression.

“Fine, thanks,” I responded. A look from him and a slight pause in his demeanor held more power than any verbal reprimand could ever express.

A moment pulsed between us filled with an awkward silence. Maybe I put more emphasis on silence than it deserved, but I didn’t want to lose my friendship with Briggs over my stupid mistake of kissing him last night. I needed him now more than ever.