Me in Pieces: Short Stories Adding up to a Full Life

By KJ Mullins

Life is a long journey of starts and stops forming a beautiful puzzle in time. My journey has had many pitfalls along the way. As I struggled to deal with abuse and addiction I learned lessons along the way.Each short story adds up, each sidestep changed me in a different way. But if one piece of this puzzle didn't happen then where would I be now? Would I be happier? Or laying in a ditch? No one knows that answer. We are a collection of puzzle pieces that form a beautiful picture. Little mosaics in time. One piece out of place changes the entire picture. One more brightly coloured distorts everything else.

• Language: English
• Publisher: KJ Mullins
• Release date: Mar 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370622412

KJ Mullins

I believe that everyone has a voice. Combining my passion of journalism and social issues I have worked to bring the issues of homelessness, mental health and crime to the front burner while covering the city of Toronto for newz4u.ca, an online news source that I founded in May 2010.For the past decade, I have been a freelance journalist, writing thousands of articles on all subject matters. For the past five years, I have focused on the city of Toronto, mental health, arts, crime and social issues.Journalism requires various skill sets from being able to listen, research and have an inner insight of what needs to be told. Explaining complex issues under 1,000 words and in quick fashion is a skill that comes from the University of Life.When I am not composing words at my keyboard I do outreach on the streets of Toronto with the homeless. I have been part of Straight to the Street for the past six years. I don't believe one has to be part of an agency to give back.

Book preview

Foreword

Everyone has an expiry date....it's not something to fear but to move towards with gusto knowing that before that date you are at the best use times....use each day as the gift that it is, knowing that the endgame goal is how you've given smiles, love and wisdom to others...we are not put on this world to serve ourselves but to be a present to those who are lucky enough to be in our paths and the ultimate gifts are those that we receive from the smiles, love and wisdom from others who touch us in the same way we touch them.

I wrote those words after being reminded that my expiry date was getting closer. As I closed in on the halfway part of 50 knowing that growing old would likely not be part of my life journey.

Knowing that there really is an ending to your own life isn't the easiest pill to swallow but as in the case of my mother's death knowing that time is getting shorter is a gift. It reminds you what is important and not to wait to finish things. You have the chance to tell those that you care about how you feel. You can tie up loose ends.

Still, it's never enough. We want forever in a very literal sense. And we want to live the ultimate fairy tale. But life was not meant to be easy. There are more rough patches than days of total fulfillment. And that's not a bad thing. It makes those blissful days mean so much more. Rainstorms are needed to grow a garden, tears are needed to complete a whole person.

As I write these little sound bites I am reliving each of those stormy patches that rocked me, had me wondering if this was all that would be, struggling to hold onto another day. It's not a pleasant experience looking back to the hard times that scarred you, breaking you down before the struggle for regrowth. Being moulded by fire is harsh and painful. Looking back at the ashes is a process of grieving the past and letting go of painful memories. It also makes you really confront the reality of your life instead of the rose coloured images that swirl around. For instance, in my head, I remember a happy childhood but deeply hidden are those little pieces that wrecked my self-confidence or soul. The truth may set you free but you have to crush the chains that have bound the secrets at the same time.

I set forth another challenge by writing pieces in short story form with no names attached to the players. Because the names don't make a difference, it's the experiences that shaped me as they shape each one of us. Looking back this story could be anyone's, I know I am not that unique.

Each little piece is a real slice of my past. Most are not the happiest of times. These little pieces are my failures. Each step that needed to take place in order to become the me that I am today. We are a measure of our failures after all.

Sometimes I wish they were fiction. Scenes from a wicked fairy tale that didn't really happen.

But if one piece of this puzzle didn't happen then where would I be now? Would I be happier? Or laying in a ditch? No one knows that answer. We are a collection of puzzle pieces that form a beautiful picture. Little mosaics in time. One piece out of place changes the entire picture. One more brightly coloured distorts everything else.

And with those thoughts, I set forth on this collection of short stories. They are the little pieces that went into making me. Short. At times sweet. Others painful. They all collectively helped shape the woman I became. This puzzle isn't finished forming but it's shaped enough to be some kind of wonderful. Because that is really all life is, some kind of wonderful with patches of darkness forming one real life.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Henry, Shane, Tim, Lettie, Jenny, Ben and Sami thank you for being part of my path

Childhood

Deny

It was icy and she should have known better but she wanted a chocolate bar. For months she had denied herself. It helped that the other Sisters in her convent pumped her full of diet pills so she wouldn't look so fat. Not that she was fat. She couldn't say what she was. If she ignored the bump that swelled her belly hidden away under her habit then it wouldn't be so. Nuns did not have bumps, not even novices.

Whenever she was confronted with the thing that didn't exist she would close her eyes.

When her doctor measured her growing tummy she looked away. She would cover her ears when he told her what to do. No one thought that was strange. They all said she was just a simple girl.

She told everyone that would listen on those few times when she had to talk about the bump that she had been taken advantage of. Saint Peter would see that she had confessed, silent as it may be, but confessed all the same, and let her in the pearly gates. She was the bride of Jesus after all. And she was a very proper girl. Except for once. Maybe twice.

It wasn't proper when she went into that bathroom either. Deny. Avoid.

He was so kind, smart and sweet and she just wanted to see a real man naked that wasn't her brother or her nephew or someone she tended to. She wanted to see it. That part that the devil made. Just once. A peek wouldn't hurt. So she slipped into the bathroom and stood silently as he cleansed his body. A thin white curtain separated them. He sang some ditty she hadn't heard before, unaware that danger was standing on the other side.

She took in that thought. She was Danger. She was Woman. She was Sex. She was Denial.

The water went silent and she should have slipped away, unseen but she stood there. Deer in headlights. And he peeled back the curtain and was there.

The Devil was calling to her. Take a taste. Take a feel. Take.

He held her close to him, just like he held her sister. His lips grazed her own.

That Thing hurt her as it entered her. Until it didn't. And it felt so good. She never knew that this was something she would crave.

She closed her eyes and let it happen. It was heavenly. It was wrong. The start of her fall from grace lasted just a moment before he quickly got up, wiping away her juices before walking out the door. They never spoke of it again. Deny. Avoid.

She took care of her sister's children over the rest of the summer. There were so many of them but they liked playing games. She was a good game player. She always let them win.

She avoided her sister's husband. Deny. Ignore.

She said she had a tummy flu on the Fourth of July. For days the smell of food cooking made her sick. Her loving sister was worried and took her to the doctor. He was confused. Thinking that because she was a Sister that it had to be some kind of flu but he took blood and had it tested. He told her sister that she was pregnant.

The doctor lied when he talked to her later. He said she had a bump. It had to be a lie. She was a nun. She was pure. She was almost a virgin, like Mary. Ah, that was the ticket. She would claim she was just like Mary. There was a miracle in the bump. It was God's bump.

She beamed as she told her sister. Her sister slapped her in the face. In the shadows that devil man stood, tears on his face.

He had confessed. Aloud. To her sister.

Within an hour she was shipped back to the nunnery. Summer vacation was over and a diet pill appeared to keep the bump away. Every time the Mother looked at her she felt ashamed. Mother had told everyone she was a sinner.

She rarely ate. The pills helped but at times the cravings would come. She would sneak into the kitchen and devour whatever she could find. No one ever stopped her.

The Devil had to be fed. That's what Mother Superior said. Feed your little devil spawn. Here's a little black pill to make it easier. For months she raced about. She told everyone that she was a Virgin Mary. They would look away. Deny. Avoid.

She hid away. Reading the blessed books. Making wagers with Saint Peter. Confessing in silence while staying with the Virgin Mary lie. She never said it out loud during her weekly confession.

The bump grew even when she tried to bind it away. That thing inside would defy her. It would wiggle. Try to make itself known. It wasn't real. It wasn't there. If she avoided the mirrors it wasn't seen. But still, it kicked at her, hurting her sides. She would spank it but then Mother made her stop.

At night the Devil would come calling in her dreams. She would arch into his embrace. She would moan with pleasure.

She would wake up in a sweat and pop a black pill into her mouth. It wasn't so. Deny.

At Christmas, Mother Superior gave her papers to sign. She was told that the bump would give a gift to a couple that longed for the ultimate present. A child. She signed without a thought. It wasn't really just as the bump wasn't real. Deny. Ignore.

But today she couldn't ignore the cravings anymore. Just one chocolate bar. Despite the February ice coating the sidewalks she had to have the candy. Even though Mother told her to rest and prepare for the bump coming out. The Devil was making her. She scurried along in the shadows. A large coat and her habit concealing the bump. No one would know. She would just dart into the store and grab a candy bar. No one would know.

She was planning on how to be unseen when her foot hit a patch of ice. Plop. She was on the ground howling in pain. Cursing the devils that created ice. Cursing like a sailor.

People gathered around. Mothers muffled their wee one's ears, to block out a nun's vile mutterings. Then she peed herself. People rushed around her. Someone called for an ambulance and men loaded her on a stretcher carting her away to the hospital. A doctor and nurse raced her through the hallways.

The Bump punched her in the gut. Hard. It blocked the pain from her leg. The Bump did not want to be denied. It punched harder and she screamed out louder, cursing the Devil for invading her body.

She was taken to a sterile room. White. Like what heaven for sinners must look like. A man put a mask over her face and she faded away.

Waking up a cast-encased her leg.

There was no Bump. She refused to look at the crying baby that a nurse brought into her room.

She was Virgin again.

Deny. Ignore. Avoid. Forget.

The Gift

The man and the woman had tried to start a family for many years. After they discovered that the man was lacking healthy sperm they signed up to adopt a baby. They made sure their house was spotless for home visits and fixed up one of the bedrooms to welcome home a child of their own.

Each year the crib gathered dust.

They knew though that one day God would send them a little angel. Their own special gift from the heavens. When they got their present they would love and protect the child as long as they lived.

The man promised God that he would always be there for his children like his father had been there for him.

The woman promised God she would be kinder to her child than her mother had been to her.

Then on an icy day in 1963 the phone rang bringing joy to the couple. In a day they would pick up their new daughter and bring her home.

Then another call came that night. The little girl was sick and wouldn't be able to leave the hospital. For two weeks the couple sat by the phone waiting for word on a child they had yet to meet but already loved.

Then came the wondrous ring and they dashed off across the state to pick up their very own special angel. As they carried her home in a soft white blanket they promised her that she would have an incredible life. She was theirs and she was loved.

She was the gift that God delivered.

New Kid In The House

One day the little girl's mommy and daddy went off on a long trip. Her grandmother stayed with her while they were gone. The one that was mean and made her sit quietly in the corner. She was very scared of her when Mommy wasn't around.

A long time later her parents returned carrying a screaming baby in their arms.

The parents oohed and aahed smiling down at the wrinkled little thing and asked her to come over and met her new brother. She wasn't that impressed. The little girl thought that he was rotten. He smelled like poop and was much too loud.

Her daddy told her that she would always be their special girl and because she was so good they wanted to give her a little brother. He was a special gift from God just like her.

She still wasn't very impressed but agreed to help take care of him.

A little while later her mommy put the baby in her old crib to take a nap.

Now she knew why she had gotten her new big girl bed in her new room yesterday. That thing in her bed was a thief! He was taking all of her stuff.

She was certainly not impressed with the new changes.

Still, Daddy wanted her to like the baby and the little girl loved her Daddy.

She decided to make a peace offering. She crept into her old room with a few potato chips to offer him. It was her ultimate gift. Chips were very special and only allowed for special times.

She tried to feed her baby brother one and he refused it. Wouldn't even try to eat it. Then he started to scream and cry again.

That settled it. The baby was defective. The only thing to do was throw him away.

Her daddy walked into the room just in time. She had lifted her brother from the crib and carried him to an open window.

In time the little girl would love the baby as much as her