Pieces of Us

Chapter 6 All Fucked Up

Amity—The start of October to April

I wouldn’t say my room is a shrine of Linc and I, but almost every surface has a piece of us and our lives. My walls are littered with pictures of us from when we were kids, and my windowsill still has our names etched in it, the carving reading, ‘Linc + Amity 4eva’.

A smile plays on my lips as I memorise every detail of the sketches he made of our future home. I trace the pencil markings on the back of our printed movie tickets, eager to see my vision come to life. I wasn’t asking for much—just natural stone and timber throughout, with the focal point being the panoramic views of the ocean. He’s become quite the drawer, and I know that, with time, his talent will only enhance under our dads.

Lying on my bed, I feel the slight bruising still evident between my legs from hours earlier, when Linc was inside me. I wonder if I’ll be permanently, deliciously bruised when we can fuck in our home every day?

It takes every effort for me to hide the salacious look on my face when Dad comes to get me for dinner.

‘What are we having?’ I sit up, hoping he missed my wince.

‘Burritos.’ He’s more curt than usual. He must have had a bad day at work. Following him to the kitchen, I can feel that he’s distracted. It’s in his gait; he’s stiff, as if he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Flopping into a stool at the breakfast bar, I notice his laptop is set up.

‘Mum calling or something?’ It’s the only explanation as to why the laptop would be open while we eat dinner. Sometimes, we share a meal together. I’ve never known any difference when it comes to my parents, so while others find it strange, this is just my normal.

Dad hums without answering.

I stuff the softshell with all the fillings before shovelling it in my mouth. Dad hasn't started assembling his yet. Instead, he places his chin in his hand, staring at me.

‘What?’ I mumble over my food.

‘Don’t talk with your mouth full,’ he claps back, his gaze diverting to the blank screen.

Silence stretches on as he watches me eat. When I’m almost done, FaceTime blares through the laptop speakers, jolting both Dad and I.

‘Crystal. Hi, hon, how are you?’ Dad asks Mum as her face appears on the screen. She too seems pensive. It’s especially noticeable, because she’s the most carefree person I know. She’s a relatively famous make-up artist in Sydney, and often looks as glamorous as some of the stars she works with. I have basic features of hers, but they aren’t as emphasised or highlighted.

‘Good, Marky. Um, do you want to take this?’ She flits her eyes away from me.

Dad sighs, raking his hand through his hair while he takes a long sip of the bourbon he’s poured himself.

‘Just spill it already.’ I’m antsy. My eyes dart back and forth between the parent on the screen and the parent pansying in the kitchen.

‘You got into that really selective school,’ Mum blurts before her hand covers her mouth.

‘What?’ I slouch back in the chair. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Remember a few years ago, when we were toying with the idea to send you to a more academic school, so you’d have a better chance at getting into uni?’ Dad starts to explain. ‘The one down in Sydney,’ he goes on. My stomach drops. No, it doesn’t drop. It feels like it falls out of my body, leaving a gaping hole.

I shake my head. This can’t be what I’m hearing. I beg Dad with my eyes to tell me that I’m not thinking what I know is true, but the look of abject apology screams back at me. Mum averts her gaze from the screen, unable to hide how sorry she is that she’s half the reason for ruining my life.

‘It’s going to open up so many doors. And you get to live with your Mum, which will be so special,’ Dad explains. When I don’t say anything, because words fail me, Mum jumps in.

‘The school has an amazing journalism elective, which we’ve already enrolled you into. Year twelve is about to start, so it’s the best time to do this.’

‘But…’ I blink.

‘This is the best move, honey.’

New.

A new home.

A new state.

A new school.

A new start.

Without Linc.

Without Lily.

Without Dad, my friends and every part of what makes up my heart.

‘So that’s it?’ I baulk, standing up. I hear the rattle of the wooden stool bouncing as it hits the hardwood floor.

‘Honey, it’s not forever. We’re only looking out for your future,’ Dad says, reaching over to hold my hand, but I jerk it away as if his touch will scold me.

‘When?’ I grit, feeling a fountain of water blur my vision.

‘You’ll come down a few days before school holidays end.’ Mum’s tone is sheepish as she casts her eyes down.

‘That’s in two weeks!’

They both nod. Upset doesn’t cover what I’m feeling, nor does rage. I can’t be in the vicinity of either of them, so I vault straight to my room and slam the door.

Sydney. It’s a twelve-hour road trip or an hour-and-a-half flight from the Gold Coast.

Half an hour ago, it felt like Linc and I had all the time in the world to look forward to our future. Now, the clock is ticking, counting down to when we’ll have none at all.

Everything that’s ever meant something to me fits inside four large suitcases. Telling Linc was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I didn’t tell him straight away, which was a huge mistake, because my mouthy English teacher blurted out that she’d miss me at the end of one of our classes. I fled the room with Linc hot on my heels, demanding an explanation.

While I blubber, he holds me fiercely tight, vowing that we’ll make it through the next year and a bit. He goes on about how absence makes the heart grow fonder, and that we’ll make it work, but it feels like an insurmountable promise.

‘How am I supposed to live without you, baby? You’re part of my heart.’ He fights back tears as he suffocates me in his embrace. Tears clog my throat as I cry into his shirt. He is my missing link, and I am a part of his heart.

I love him, and I feel sure he loves me. I just don’t know how deep or cataclysmic it is. We are seventeen. Saying it out loud, even though every fibre of our beings means it, is scary. We may have never said the words to one another, but we feel it in every moment spent together. We don’t just have the love of two best friends; we have the love of soulmates.

‘I don’t want to go. Please, tell me nothing will change?’

Grabbing my ruddy cheeks, his choppy breath ghosts over my mouth. ‘Never. We will make it work.’

I hear the rumble of Dad’s car off in the distance. It’s time to go. My eyes lock on Linc for an excruciating amount of time, trying to imprint every detail of his face. He glues his lips to mine, savouring our last moments together. Feeling the wetness on my cheeks and a stab in my heart, I know we only have seconds left.

Stepping back, my voice breaks with every syllable. ‘Bye, Linc.’

‘Bye, Hart.’ He clears his throat, moving back from the porch. ‘Nothing changes. Remember.’

It’s a lie. Everything is about to change. But I can con myself for a little while, right?

‘Of course,’ I sniff. In my soul, I know I’ll never get past this emptiness until we are together again.

It’s as if the sun knows today isn’t a day to shine. Mother Nature is in full force with rolling clouds and cyclonic winds. With a quick peck on the cheek to Uncle Jacob, I flop down in the passenger seat, turning my head sideways to catch the last glimpse of Linc. Dad honks the horn, driving me away from the guy who makes up my heart.

Coming home. I am coming home.

It has been five whole months since I uprooted my life and moved to bustling Sydney.

Unfortunately, distance didn’t make the heart grow fonder. A combination of things broke us. Between the distance, Linc’s part-time job at our dads’ business, and the fact that we were both jealous of old and new friends, we decided to take the pressure off and go back to being best friends. I didn’t want to, but the pressure was too much. At the end of the day, we’re only seventeen, and if we’re really meant to be, we’ll find our way back to each other. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

I really tried living my life to the fullest, despite my heart being ripped from my ribcage. I started at a new school back in October, and acclimated as well as I could in the first term of year twelve. During the school holidays, I begged and pleaded to go back to the Gold Coast to spend it with Linc, but Mum had arranged with Lily’s mum for us to hang out in Los Angeles while she had a big make-up gig over there.

Term two of year twelve was just finishing up when Mum and Dad threw another anvil my way. I was apparently mistaken for a yoyo, and was told I was going to move back to the Gold Coast, because Mum was offered a permanent position over in Los Angeles on a movie set. It was an opportunity of a lifetime for her, and one she could not pass up.

For about a month now, something has felt off with Linc. We barely spoke for more than five minutes a day, which is peculiar, since the transition back to being best friends was relatively smooth. The only topic we steered clear of was dating. What hurts the most is that he is being distant, acting as if he has elsewhere to be. When I tried to call him out on it, he said he was just stressed about school, or was hanging with Joel and the other guys.

When the calls dwindled to texts, a pit in my stomach started forming, getting larger by the day. Pretty soon, it was sinkhole-sized. My texts went unanswered for hours on end, some of them being left on ‘read’ for a day or two. And don’t even get me started on the emotion in them. A dead fish would be more animated at this point. My anxiety has been driving me to binge eat for a few days and then starve myself the next. My mind and body is in the worst shape it’s ever been, and I hate beyond hate that my mood is tied to food.

When my parents told me I’d be coming back a few days ago, I messaged him, saying that I had something important to tell him, but I still haven’t received a response. Mum’s gig was starting imminently, so with just two days to pack and fly out, I resided on surprising him. Dad and Uncle Jacob promised to keep my return a secret.

Lily is the only real friend I’ve kept in contact with since I left. Naturally, she is thrilled her bestie is coming back. She had no idea what was up with Linc either, considering the friendship group dynamics have drastically changed since I left. At the time, I was surprised, but it made sense. Lily, Arial and Rome, the quieter of the bunch, gravitated away from the rest of the footy players, wannabe influencers and dancers. What didn’t surprise me was that Billie clung to that group, which of course Linc was a part of. She and Lily supposedly had a massive fight about it and haven’t spoken in months.

It’s nighttime by the time we arrive home.

‘Home sweet home, princess.’ Dad is jubilant as he presses the ignition off. It’s Easter school holidays, so the majority of our grade is in hibernation, studying for our half-yearlys—tests I will have to eventually complete, but for now, I have special consideration to catch up—or out partying.

On the way back, I tried calling Linc, but no answer. Deflation weighs down my body as I see Lily standing on our porch. It isn’t that I’m not over the moon to hug my best friend. It’s just that I’m not important enough for Linc to call me back.

Masking my mounting frustration, I school my features. ‘I’m back!’ I squeal, hurrying to where she stands on my front steps. She-half smiles at me, which isn’t exactly the reaction I was expecting, but maybe she’s just zapped after burying her head in books all day. I appreciate the effort she’s made in coming to see me.

I feel my body sag as I melt into her familiar frame. Automatically, her posture stiffens before squeezing me tighter, as if she is shielding me from something.

‘What’s up, crazy?’

‘It’s Linc.’ Lily takes a lungful of air before eviscerating my soul to shreds. ‘Have you checked social media?’ I shake my head, waiting for the other shoe to drop. ‘Linc’s having a rager tonight at his.’ That makes sense. Dad told me that Uncle Mark took Jasmine to see Wicked in Brisbane for a few days. ‘He had his hands wrapped around Billie’s waist. It was on her story.’ The words fly so fast out of her mouth, it takes a moment for my mind to catch up.

‘What?’ I stammer out. ‘Are you sure?’ It doesn’t even register to me that Dad is furrowing his brows from the open doorway. He heard the tailend of the conversation, and now concern is etched all over his face. ‘Dad. A little privacy, please?’ I hiss, urging him to go away.

‘Yeah, Amity, I’m sure,’ Lily says quietly. ‘Her head is in the crook of his neck, and it looks like he’s biting her shoulder.’ She pauses. ‘Do you want to see?’

I close my eyes, balling my hands into fists.

‘Maybe it’s not what it seems?’ I croak.

‘It looks intimate.’ In seconds, her hands fly across her screen, opening the Instagram app. Shock splashes across her face. ‘It’s gone,’ she gasps. ‘She took it down.’ I can tell she’s in disbelief and not questioning her sanity. I don’t need a picture to tell me a thousand words, or in this case, one thing: that we’re completely and irrevocably over. But I do need living proof myself, if this is the end of Linc and me.

‘Let’s go.’

‘What?’ she splutters.

‘I want to see for myself.’ It isn’t that I don’t believe her. It’s that I need to hear his denial or explanation—or, more plausibly, to catch him red-handed. ‘Dad, I’ll be back a little later,’ I call, not waiting for his response.

Putting one foot in front of the other, I trudge to Lily’s car. Before I can reach the door, she stops me. ‘Whatever you see tonight, I’ve got you, babes. I’ll be here through it all.’ It pains me to hear the heartbreak in her voice.

It’s a fifteen-minute crawl to his home, and another ten to find a parking space down the road. Cars with P-plates litter the street, while DJ Khaled reverberates in the air the closer we get to his front door. There are what looks like hundreds of students from every school here tonight, but there’s only one I’m honing in on. Everyone is drunk enough to not know or recognise who I am, or not care. Either way, I’m grateful no one has tipped Linc off that I’m here. The chill of winter splinters my bones, but the more I wander through the familiar hallways, the more I see the arctic weather has escaped the majority of the female cohort. ‘Scantily dressed’ isn’t an apt enough description of what some of them are sporting. It leads me to believe that the heated spa and pool are being used.

People cram the spacious deck and pool area as I rigidly push my way through colliding bodies. I see Joel first, who has a bikini-clad Zara clinging to his body as if she’s an octopus. He jolts when he spots me, his face turning ashen. I can’t hear over the music, but I’m close enough to the spa to make out Joel’s words. He calls Linc’s name. I suddenly fully understand why Linc has gone practically radio silent the last month. Pretty hard to text or talk when his hands have been too busy fingering Billie while his mouth has been vacuum-sealed over hers. Obviously Joel hasn’t shouted his name loud enough, giving me a few more seconds to witness our relationship and friendship crash and burn beyond repair.

Billie is flush against him, her body gyrating to his moving fingers, hidden underneath the water. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out where his hands are roaming. Her itty bitty body makes me seethe, hammering the notion in my head that this is clearly the type of look he is after in a girlfriend. A newer model. A better upgrade. One that came with all the tight little features.

‘Lincoln!’

Joel’s bellow finally pulls his attention away, where he turns to meet my dragon-eyed stare head on.

‘Fuck!’ he splutters, frantically trying to wade his way through the water. Billie looks like a drowned rat after being shoved off his lap, her tits on full display.

‘Hart!’ He clumsily climbs out.

‘Don’t. Don’t you dare fucking call me that.’ I don’t mean to shout, but who the hell cares anyway when fifty or so people are already gathering around to witness my meltdown?

‘Amity, wait!’ he shouts desperately. The audacity.

Ignoring him, I weave my way through pitying stares from those who have finally cottoned on to who I am.

Fuck him. Fuck that lying, heartless asshole.

Lily is right beside me, but not even her unfathomable strength and loyalty can keep me upright. I falter, leaning on her for support. A few more steps and I’m almost at the front door.

‘Amity, baby, wait.’ Lincoln grasps my arm in a tug of war with Lily. The fingers now curled around my flesh are the same ones that were inside Billie moments ago. I feel sick and violated at the smell of her juices on his fingers, which are smearing my skin. If I could burn my skin off, I would.

Snatching my arm from his grip, I spin around and slap his face. The sting of the weight behind it tingles my palm.

He looks good. Fuck him. His light blue boardshorts cling to his thighs and his dark hair looks black, gelled back from his forehead, no doubt manipulated by that whore.

‘You never ever get to call me “baby” or “Hart” or anything ever again,’ I hiss in anger. The music is low, allowing everyone to hear the fallout. ‘Especially not after the way you’ve been cowardly ignoring me and, oh, yeah, leading me to believe it was still us against the world.’

Regret and guilt plaster his face. He hangs his head in shame, giving me a prime opportunity to see the physical changes his body has adopted while I’ve been gone. Defined muscles fill out his form, but not in a bulky way. He’s slender and ripped where it counts. I fleetingly wonder if it’s so he can match his new ‘little miss perfect’. His form embodies everything I’m not. If this isn’t the nail in the coffin that we’re the complete antithesis of one another, then I don’t know what is.

‘Why?’ I whisper, further tormenting myself. ‘Why her? Why wasn’t I enough? Why did you not tell me?’ I don’t mean for my voice to crack, but it does. I need to know either way.

Without looking up from the hardwood floors, he mutters out a pathetic excuse. ‘I’m so, so sorry, Amity. I never meant for this to happen, or for you to find out this way…but…’

‘But what?’ I snap. He doesn’t answer me. His silence is not only deafening but debilitating. ‘Tell me, fuckwit. Tell me why I deserve this!’ I demand. My voice is hoarse and comes out scratchy.

Lifting his head, he babbles out more pathetic excuses. ‘Billie and I…we got closer. It felt like we were dancing around the next step for months. She was there for me…when you left. When you weren’t there. It just happened…’

I huff out an incredulous laugh. ‘Oh. It just happened, huh? Your cock just happened to slip into her waiting pussy, is that right?’ When he doesn’t respond, I know he’s gone further than just touching her. ‘You know what? I never want to be near you ever again. Go to hell, Lincoln. I hate you. I hate you!’ I screech. Turning around, I storm out of the house I once called home.

‘Amity.’ I hear his tortured plea behind me.

He broke us.

Our friendship.

The respect.

The loyalty.

The trust.

Our love.

All obliterated and shattered into shards that will never fit back together again.

I stumble back to Lily’s car, mute, silent tears streaming down my face. My breath comes out in suspended spurts as I try to get a hold of my breathing.

Lily doesn’t want to leave me when she drops back to my place, but I beg her, saying that I just need to be alone. I slink like a panther back into the house, quietly trying to escape my dad’s interrogation. Once I’ve made it up the stairs, I’m safe. Silently closing my door, I click the lock in place, lay on my freshly made bed, curl up into a bawl, and cry until I pass out.