Broken Hearts, Fences and Other Things to Mend (3 page)

by that, she set the magazine aside, stood up, and forcibly re-

moved the butter from my hands. “Come on,” she said, turning

off the oven and herding me toward the door. “I think you need

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to get out.”

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O O O

Half an hour later, I looked at Sophie across my pizza slice and

sighed. “I don’t understand why we’re here.” Sophie had taken

me to Putnam Pizza, the most pop u lar pizza place in town. We

were in the restaurant; there was a take- out only window next

door. Sophie hadn’t told me where we were going; if I’d known, I

might have changed out of my Salmon Festival apron- shirt. I’d

suggested we just get slices to go, but Sophie had practically dragged

me into the restaurant, and then ordered my favorite pizza for

me—pineapple- sausage- pepperoni, which everyone else hated, in-

cluding our waiter, if his expression when he wrote down the order

was any indication.

“We’re here because you needed to stop baking and get out

of your house,” Sophie said as she bit into her extra- cheese slice. I

just shook my head, not wanting to tell her that this was actually

not helpful, since now that I was away from my high- speed mixer,

my hands kept reaching for my phone, every time I illuminated

the screen sure I would see a text from Teddy, apologizing. “Also,”

she went on, looking signifi cantly at my untouched slice, “I thought

you could use some real food. I think the sugar might have been

going to your head.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked as I took a bite of my

pizza.

“Well . . .” Sophie said, sliding the
G
on her necklace back and

forth a few times. “You said that the breakup with Teddy was a

-1—

mistake.”

0—

“It was,” I agreed immediately. “And probably just a misun-

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derstanding. He’s going to call me soon. I know it. And then ev-

erything will be okay.”

“The thing is, Gem,” Sophie said, leaning closer, “would it be . . .

you know, such a bad thing if you guys stayed broken up?”

I just stared at her, trying to make what she’d just said make

sense. “Of course it would,” I fi nally replied. “What do you even

mean?”

“Not that Teddy’s not great,” Sophie said quickly. “He’s really,

you know, committed to all that stuff he cares about. But maybe

this is actually a good thing.”

I couldn’t even think what to say to this; the idea that I wouldn’t

want to be with Teddy was crazy. My boyfriend— I refused to even

think “ex”— was amazing. He wasn’t just a do- gooder because he

thought it would help him get somewhere— he genuinely cared

about all his causes and tried to make the world a better place,

and I always hoped that some of it would rub off on me. I know

Sophie would have said this was ridiculous, but she didn’t know

the terrible things I’d done when I was eleven, the summer I’d

spent in the Hamptons. I had hurt my dad, and a girl who’d be-

lieved I was her friend, and I’d done it deliberately. Teddy gave me

something to aspire to, and made me a better person. We were the

perfect couple, which was probably why we’d been named Perfect

Couple in the yearbook last year. We had to get back together.

Anything else was just unthinkable. I shook my head. “You don’t

know what you’re talking about,” I said fi rmly. “Obviously this isn’t

a good thing. But it’s only temporary. Teddy will call, and then

he’ll—”

—-1

“He might not need to,” Sophie said, sitting up straight suddenly.

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I turned around to see what was behind me, what she was

seeing— and it was like everything shifted into slow motion for

a moment, and all the colors became brighter, the world chang-

ing into just an all- around better place to be. Teddy was walking

away from the take- out window, holding a pizza box with two

cans of soda on top, wearing that yellow Occupy Putnam shirt I

loved so much. I stood up so fast that I knocked my water glass

over, but I didn’t care. I just needed to get to Teddy as quickly as

possible.

“Gem,” Sophie hissed, grabbing onto my hand to stop me as

she simultaneously tried to mop up the table with her napkin.

“
No
. I don’t think you want to do this.”

But I shook her off and ran for the door, then took the steps

down to the parking lot two at a time. “Teddy!” I called, and he

stopped halfway across the parking lot and turned around.

He squinted at me, then took a few steps closer. “Gemma?” he

asked.

“Hi,” I said, closing the distance between us, feeling more like

my old self with every step I took toward him. It was like I’d been

deprived of oxygen this whole time and hadn’t realized it. But

now, fi nally, I could breathe again. Things made sense again. I

was with Teddy.

But Teddy didn’t look like things were equally clear to him,

for some reason. He mostly looked uncomfortable as he shifted

his weight from foot to foot. “Hi,” he said uncertainly.

“It’s so good to see you,” I said. It had only been a few days, but

-1—

I could feel myself looking eagerly at the face I was used to seeing

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daily. It was like he’d somehow gotten cuter since I’d last seen

him. How had I never appreciated that dimple in his left cheek

before? It was taking all my self- control not to fl ing myself into

his arms, but I restrained myself. Teddy had never really liked

public displays of affection, and anyway, we’d be kissing as soon

as we cleared this misunderstanding up.

“You too,” he said, his voice strained. He glanced to the park-

ing lot, where I saw his Prius was parked. He looked back at me

and swallowed. “Listen, Gem,” he said. “I’m really sorry about what

happened in Target. I shouldn’t have done it like that.”

I nodded, but could feel the smile on my face freeze a little. It

wasn’t the
place
that had bothered me, it was the fact he had bro-

ken up with me at all. I waited for a moment so that he could tell

me he also regretted making a terrible mistake by suggesting we

end things, but Teddy just looked down at the ground.

“Listen,” I said, fi guring that I should just jump in while he

gathered his courage. “I was just thinking about . . . you know . . .”

I took a big breath and continued. “About you and me . . . maybe . . .

getting back—”

“Yes!” Teddy said, cutting me off, but I had never been so happy

to be interrupted. “Me too. I was going to call you about it.”

Relief fl ooded through me; it was practically a physical sensa-

tion. Because even though I hadn’t wanted to think about it dur-

ing my baking frenzy, a tiny voice in the back of my head had

been whispering— louder, the more time went on— that maybe Teddy

had meant what he’d said to me in the gardening aisle, that it

hadn’t just been a momentary fl ash of crazy brought on by the

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fl uorescent lights. “Really?” I asked weakly, feeling myself smile

genuinely for the fi rst time in forty- eight hours.

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “Getting back your deposit for the pro-

gram. I called the offi ce and they said it wouldn’t be a problem.”

I just stared at him. “Deposit?” I managed.

“Yeah,” he said. “I talked to them a few days ago. They said

you’ll just have to call to get it refunded.”

“A few days ago?” I whispered, feeling whiplash from this turn-

around. Teddy had called a few
days
ago? Before he broke up with

me in the gardening aisle?

It brought reality crashing down on me. It wasn’t just a mo-

mentary impulse. He wasn’t going to change his mind. He’d made

calls fi rst to fi nd out about deposits. Which meant the people at

the HELPP offi ces had known about my breakup before I had.

Because of course we weren’t going to dig latrines together now.

This was real.

Teddy Callaway had broken up with me.

“Yeah,” he said. “So if you just call them . . .” His voice trailed

off.

I just stared at him, feeling my throat start to constrict. We

were over. And I couldn’t even understand why. “Teddy,” I whis-

pered, my voice wavering. I could feel myself on the verge of tears.

Teddy frowned, and I saw a look of regret pass over his face.

And maybe— was I just imagining it?— doubt. He took a step closer

to me. “Gemma,” he said, his voice gentle. “I—”

BEEP!

-1—

Teddy jumped, and I looked over, startled, to the parking lot

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where the honk had come from. I followed his gaze to his Prius.

Which was when I noticed that it wasn’t empty. There was some-

one sitting in the passenger seat, someone with their head turned

away from me, but someone wearing a tank top, hair up in a long

ponytail.

My stomach clenched, and it had nothing to do with the one

bite of pizza I’d eaten. There was a girl in the car.

It clicked into place that Teddy was holding two sodas, one of

which was ginger ale, which he never drank. He was bringing a

soda to a girl with a ponytail. He was
dating
someone else already?

I was suddenly very aware that I hadn’t put on any makeup,

that my hair had been tossed into a messy ponytail, and that the

shirt I was wearing was covered in fl our and featured the word

“spawning.”

I looked down hard at the parking- lot asphalt, wondering if I

could somehow get it to open up and swallow me whole.

“Anyway,” Teddy said. He turned back to me, and the more

vulnerable look that had been on his face only a few moments

ago was gone. His expression now was closed off, all business. “I

should go. But take care, okay, Gem?” He reached out like maybe

he was going to touch my shoulder, but then must have changed

his mind, because he pulled back his hand and gave me a thumbs-

up instead.

I watched him walk away as long as I could before my vision

got blurry. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Sophie hurrying up

to stand next to me. “Gem?” she asked. “What happened?”

I just watched the car drive away, catching one more glimpse

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of the girl in the passenger seat, and a fl ash of what looked like a

tattoo on the back of her neck. Then the car disappeared from

view, and Teddy was gone— probably forever.

“Gemma?” Sophie was saying, sounding worried. “Are you

okay?”

I did know the answer to that, and shook my head. The love of

my life had broken up with me. He’d just rejected me in a park-

ing lot. He was already seeing some girl with a neck tattoo.

My whole summer was wrecked. And it was only the begin-

ning of June.

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I really thought that things couldn’t get worse.

They did.

In fact, it seems that thinking “things can’t get worse” is an

invitation for things to get much, much worse.

Immediately after returning from Putnam Pizza, I had got-

ten into bed and hadn’t really gotten out again. I’d left a sobbing

message on my dad’s phone, trying to tell him about the deposits,

but I guess not getting my point across, because when he called

back he clearly thought that I had either fallen down and hit my

head, or totaled the car. I surrounded myself with my laptop,

boxes of tissues, and pictures of me and Teddy.

In retrospect, it seemed totally understandable that Teddy

would have broken up with me. He was older, smarter, and a bet-

ter person than I was. And it was clear to me, as well as to the

editors at the
Putnam Post,
that he was destined for great things,

whereas I would just be the foolish high school girl who let this

—-1

brilliant guy slip away. I could practically see the tiny mention I

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