Jigsaw

second draft of "Unfair world"

Jigsaw

 “Thank you so much for doing this for me.” Mrs. Johnson gave Max a brief hug after answering her door. It lasted a few seconds before rushing about the room again. “Now I know you don’t know her all that well,” she picked up a clip and flipped her hair up in a sloppy bun, “but Michelle is easy to handle.” She sat on the couch, digging around for a shoe, “She’ll stick to herself for the most part.” She slipped a shoe on one foot, and kept digging for the other one, “Since my daughter’s funeral, she’s been even quieter if you can believe it. But I guess that’ll happen when your mom is taken away at such a young age.” Shoes on, she sprung back up, “especially for a girl like her.”

“What do you mean a girl like her?” Max asked.

“Well, she’s autistic.” Mrs. Johnson said rushing to find her purse, “she’s pretty lonely as it is because of it, but with Jess gone, I guess it just made it worse.”

Jess had been gone for a month now. Max could remember her; they were closer than anyone could be. Like Max, Jess didn’t quite belong.

“So, food is in the kitchen and emergency numbers are on the fridge.” Mrs. Johnson finished putting her earrings in. “If you need anything, call me.”

“I will.”

She hugged him once more, and left.

Max looked around the room. It was disorganized, and messy, but clean. Coupons shifted as her walked by and the shoes and blankets spread across the room with no real place. He took a spot on the couch, pushing aside some newspapers and a quilt. When he looked at the table, he saw something odd. A puzzle piece sat amongst the coupons. He picked it up, looking around to find its fellow pieces, but finding nothing, he put it in his pocket. Looking around, he noticed something else peculiar, there were no pictures. He got up, wondering if it was only this room. He walked towards the hall when he noticed someone watching him. He looked back at her, waving, but she darted back into the room.

The last time he saw Michelle was at the funeral, and then, she clung to Mrs. Johnson. Dismissing that thought, he returned to his search. He walked down the hall, no pictures on the walls. Save for Michelle’s room, he checked each room. The master bedroom was plain, just right for the working woman type. Another room, bare as if new, but one could see it had been lived in before. Light marks where posters once hang, and furniture once sat, like missing pieces to some puzzle. Jess once lived here.

Max left the room, closing the door behind him. He felt someone staring at him. He turned his head, his eyes catching those of Michelle. Something in him tensed. He never felt quite comfortable around kids. Max wasn’t known for kindness. He was violent. He avoids kids because he’s afraid they’ll bring out the crueler him, the part of him that kept him from making friends.

The girl walked past him, headed towards the kitchen. Curious, Max followed her. Max looked around the narrow kitchen, finding dirty dishes, used paper towels and empty wrappers scattered around. She opened a door, leading to a basement. Max followed her down. This room was left alone. There were boxes along the walls. Michelle walked over to one box, packed away in a corner. She struggled to pull it out. Seeing this max went over to help her, but she refused to give in, but max wasn’t going to give up either.

With a final pull, Max freed the box from Michelle’s hands. For a moment, Max basked in his triumphant glory. “Hah! I win you little snot!” he turned, thinking he’d meet the girls angry face, but found that she curled in a corner, sobbing. Max’s previous joy morphed to a stinging guilt, turning his stomach and forcing him to choke on his own laughter. He walked towards the girl, but she scurried away from him, wrapping her arms around her knees and burying her head into them. The lump in Max’s throat felt like a ball of lead, slipping down until it formed a pit in his stomach. Swallowing his guilt, he knelt down beside her, “I’m sorry.” He choked on the words, but she ignored him. Feeling defeated, he put the box beside her, and headed towards the stairs. From behind him he heard tearing. He faced the girl again. She had begun to tear the tape form the box, but her small fingers couldn’t get enough of a hold on it. Max walked towards her again in hopes to help. “Here, let me�"“ She smacked his hand away and gave him a stern and fierce look before returning to the task at hand. Max refusing to watch her fail again pulled a switch-blade from his pocket. Michelle snapped to attention when she heard the click of the blade and took a step back. Max smiled, realizing that she knew better than to mess with a knife. He dragged the blade along the tape, splitting it, and releasing the boxes flaps.

The box was filled with pictures, right to the top. Michelle reached into the box, grabbing a cluster of prints and ran upstairs. Max’s attention didn’t stray from the box of photos. Amongst them, faces he didn’t know, and some he did. But one face stood out amongst the rest, Jess’s face. She lay in the pile, scattered about. Max picked up a few of her pictures, she smiled in each one, even the one where she was pregnant. This was surprising to Max, considering the pregnancy came from rape. Back in middle school, she wanted to be cool and fit in. She’d do anything to be like the high school kids. Once, she had gone to a high school party, that night, she had been drinking, and someone slipped something in her drink. She woke up the next day with her clothes torn, and covered in bruises. A week later, she learned she was pregnant. The photo showed her at three months and she glowed, happy.

Max smiled. The picture gave him a warm tender feeling. He tucked the photo away in his pocket and returned upstairs. When he got to the hall, he saw Michelle’s door was open. He walked to the door and pushed it open. Inside the tiny room, the walls were covered in drawings hanging by tacks. On one wall, beside the bed, was a collage of photos, and it was there that Michelle sat, adding the recently found photos to it. Max looked over the collage, no specific pattern, just pinned to the wall, all happy and smiling faces. One spot was bare. She posted pictures around it, filling it in, but not the center. “What goes there?” Max asked pointing to the bare spot.

Michelle remained silent, pinning up the last few pictures. Shaking off the silent response, Max looked around the room. Everything was orderly, specifically organized. The drawings on the walls sat in neat rows and columns, the clothes in the closet each hung the same, the dolls on the dresser were in order by size and faced the same and the covers on the bed lay perfectly flat and perfectly even. Everything had its place. Max though back to the pictures in the basement. “This house would be a lot nicer if those photos were hanging up.” Michelle’s gaze darted towards him, her eyes full of anticipation, “What do you say Michelle? Wanna help?” she darted up and ran to the basement. Max followed her. She grabbed as many photos as she could cradle in her arms before racing back upstairs. Max gave a quiet laugh while he picked up the box and followed her. Max smiled, when was the last time he opened up to someone like he did with Michelle? His introverted nature mostly kept him away from people. This was the first time since Jess that he was ever able to talk to anyone like this, but now he was not only talking, but smiling.

They stopped in the living room first, tacking up as many photos as they could. Michelle frantically dug through the box, choosing only the happiest photos she could find. Silently she bossed Max around, pointing to where each was to be placed, and forcing him to make it all straight. Max could only smile, seeing this little girl so happy. When they finished the living room, they moved on to the hall, again, posting as many of the photos as Michelle could fit on the wall. When all the space was gone there was still half a box left. Michelle looked down at the box, disapproving. Max saw the look on her face, so he knelt down beside her and said, “I have an idea: you keep the box in your room, and we can change them out the next time I’m over. Would you like that?” Michelle lit up with excitement, and nodded frantically before taking the box to her room.

While she was putting away the box Max wondered again, looking lovingly at their handiwork, when he noticed something, a single bare spot. In the excitement, Michelle must have skipped over it in all the excitement. Max under his breath and reached into his pocket. His fingers found the photo he stashed away earlier. He took it out of his pocket. He looked fondly on the photo. Jess seemed so happy, a happiness that seemed almost nonexistent in the home. There was a tenderness to it that seemed to lift the heavy air around that house. He took the photo and pinned it to the bare wall. The once thick air disappeared almost instantly when he put in that last photo. He looked once more at the living room. The air was sweet but not quite clear just yet. Something else had to be done, but what?

He looked the room over, the photos were perfect, but it was a shame for the beautiful pictures to be surrounded by disorganization. He made his way to Michelle. She had stashed the box by her collage, and was sifting through it for any new additions. “Michelle,” Max asked, “don’t you think it’s a shame that all the pictures out there have to be surrounded with trash?” Michelle cocked her head, and then stood to look at the living room. Max followed her, “Wanna help me clean up a bit?” Michelle looked back at him and nodded. “Then we better get started.”

Their cleaning spree began in the living room. Michelle got to work organizing the coupons and throwing away trash, while Max began to fold the quilts. When was the last time max had this much energy to clean? He could only ever remember messes in his life. He couldn’t remember a sense of normalcy. The closes he got to that was when he was with Jess, and even that ended messy with Jess’s untimely death. No, Max could only remember being surrounded by the filth of his messy life. He had been living one fight after another. Even the first time he met Jess started with a fight. Max had known Jess for a short time, but he considered her a friend. Some time ago, a kid at school was rejected by her, and so he sought revenge by calling her a w***e and spreading the word across the school and Jefferson County, practically all of Louisville. Max took offence to it, and, despite Jess saying it was ok, hunted down that kid, When Max found him, he couldn’t control the rage. He beat the kid unconscious. And then there were the circumstances of Jess’s death, but, Max preferred not to linger on such thoughts. Max finished folding, without realizing how long he had been lost in his thoughts. Michelle was beside him, she had cleaned up the trash and coupons and waited for him to finish. “Sorry,” he said, “I got lost in my thoughts.”

They moved on through to the kitchen. Michelle resumed picking up trash while Max started the dishes. The two seemed to be enjoying themselves, and as each minute passed by, a bit more of the weight was lifted from the air. A sort of peace came in the rhythm dishes, trash and scrubbing. Max and Michelle worked practically in sync. Once, Max had used too much soap, and began a bubble war with Michelle. The mop versus broom war took place not long after that. They laughed, played and cleaned. It was fun. He couldn’t remember ever having this much fun. Not even when he was with Jess. Something in this girl reached out to Max, and filled him with warmth, a feeling he had not felt since before Jess died. He was happy; this girl was like him, alone. This kinship was a deeper level than any friend, and kinder than any sibling. It wasn’t what he and Jess had either; he wasn’t sure what it was.

Max decided to take a break after the kitchen was cleaned. He sat on the couch, slumped over. He turned the television to some cartoons so Michelle had something to watch. She sat, curled up beside him, staring at the cartoon on T.V. for the first time in a while, Max felt relaxed. He leaned back on the couch, finding a more comfortable angle, and when it was found, he began to drift off to sleep.

Max found himself chasing someone down. The empty face of the pursued seemed to taunt at every turn. “Jess!” he cried out, “Where are you?” He kept running, but he could not catch the man. Darkness veiled everything. The man he was chasing disappeared long ago, but Max did not stop running. He pushed on, despite a pain grabbing at his chest, what was this pain? He had trouble breathing; each inhale brought with it a sharp stinging sensation. Something shone in the darkness, a figure, a familiar one at that. Max raced forward, trying to reach that light and each aching step bringing him closer until he could see the figures face. That familiar figure was Jess. Her beautiful brown curls and bright green eyes surrounded by a golden light. “Jess?” Max asked the ethereal figure, “Jess, I miss you. I feel like, without you, there is still something missing in me.” He took her glowing hands, “I’m not whole without you.”

“Max,” Jess’s voice echoed, “you’ve already found your missing piece; you just have to put it in place.” Her form began to fade.

“Wait!” Max reached for her ghostly hands, “Don’t go!” The room seemed to fill with smoke. Max choked on it, coughing nonstop. The feeling became all too real, and he woke to find the smoke, was in fact real.

A fire started. Max jumped from the couch, racing towards the kitchen. In the midst of the black cloud, lay Michelle, Motionless. Max grabbed a nearby extinguisher, and doused the entire stove until the smoke stopped pouring from the stove. He tossed down the can and scooped up Michelle, running her to the nearest room, Jess’s room.

He couldn’t have this happen, not again. He wasn’t going to lose Michelle like he lost Jess. He attempted CPR, again and again, yet she wouldn’t breath. “Come on Michelle, you can do this, wake up!” He pushed on her chest, hoping to pump the air back into her lungs. He tried again, and failed again. Things were looking grim, the minutes slowed to a snail’s pace, and each agonizing minute caused Max’s heart to tighten. He couldn’t help but to flash back to the night Jess died. That night, Max held her. He blamed himself for what happened to her. There she lay in his arms, dying, just like Michelle was now. The lump in his throat grew heavy, and sunk down past his heart, and leaving a pit in his stomach. It seemed she would not wake, no matter what Max did, when a small breath caught his attention. He snapped out of his doubtful trance, to find that Michelle had begun to breathe again. “Michelle!” he took the girl in his arms, “I’m so glad you’re alright!” Michelle gave a week smile. “Try to get some rest, Michelle.” The girl slipped into sleep, Max never left her side. He sat beside her on the bed, when he noticed the closet was opened slightly. Inside, boxes peaked out. Max opened the closet door, and found that the boxes reach to the top of the closet, all marked “Jess”.

Max unloaded each box from the closet. He opened one, and found a set of puzzles. He pulled out a few boxes, each of them were signed “Jess and Michelle”. All of them were signed like that, except one. That one puzzle box had only been signed by Jess. He thought to himself that she must have started it but never had the chance to finish it. It seemed even more likely when he opened the box to see pieces still together. “I bet she would have loved to finish it.” Michelle stirred, alerting Max, and reminding him that he should clean up that mess in the kitchen. Max started to work on the kitchen again. He took the burnt dish out of the oven. Michelle had been trying to cook what used to be a frozen pizza. Max wondered if she was hungry, and cursed himself for allowing such a thing to happen. He went on cleaning the stove, luckily, nothing major had been damaged, only the food. The smoke was from leaving the cardboard on the bottom of the pizza, but whether or not the fire was big or small, Max still blamed himself.

It took Max about an hour to clean up, and when that hour was over he returned to Michelle’s side. Looking at the boxes he wished Jess was with him now, telling him it wasn’t his fault, convincing him it was an accident, but she wasn’t in any of the boxes. Something in Max’s head clicked. He took the boxes and opened them all. He took Jess’s clothes and hung them neatly in the closet. He took a clock, and hung it on the wall. He emptied one box after another, putting things where he felt they belonged.

Soon, the room began to seem more like Jess. During the moving and shifting, Michelle woke up. Max was so absorbed in his own activities that he didn’t notice Michelle rearranging things on her own. When the boxes were empty, Max looked around, it was only then that Max noticed Michelle’s alterations. Michelle herself had sat down on the floor, and was piecing together the puzzle signed “Jess”. She put it together quick too. What had been left were a few pieces. Michelle put in two pieces, but she couldn’t seem to find the last piece. She searched all over the room, running from one side to the other, then in the living room, the basement and the kitchen. Watching Michelle, Max began to feel for Michelle, knowing her anger, and sadness. Then he remembered the puzzle piece he found when he arrived. “Michelle, I think I found It.” he handed the piece to Michelle, who took it to the puzzle. A perfect fit, and the puzzle was completed. She dug through Jess’s desk to find a marker and signed the box, and then, handing it to Max. He looked confused for a moment, but took the marker and wrote his own name. As he signed, Michelle jumped up and ran to her room. Max put down the marker and box to see where she went. When he reached the hall Michelle jumped out of her room.

“Max!” she said. He turned to meet the flash of a camera. Michelle ducked back into her room, shaking the newly printed Polaroid.

“The hell was that?” Max asked himself as he walked to Michelle’s room. When he opened the door, he asked, “Michelle, what was that for?“ He looked to the collage and something was different. In place of the once empty space was pinned a photo of Max. He smiled, “Why don’t you try for a better picture?” max picked up the camera, “well come over her, you belong in it too.” Michelle smiled wide and leaped to be beside him. Max took the photo, and Michelle pinned it to her collage, where it would stay, the last piece of the puzzle for as long as she’d keep it there.

Author's Note

this is the second version. please read the first as well, but it is not necessary.