How To Get Your Heart Broken (16 page)

“May I?” He asked.

I hesitated, and then nodded.

He pulled my shirt back up
ever-so-slightly.

I shivered as his fingers lightly ran over
the words.

“You are enough,” he whispered. It sounded
like something between a statement and a question.

My eyebrows raised in surprise, “You speak
Spanish?”

Eres
suficiente.

That was what my tattoo said. It lay maybe
half an inch below where my bra rested in a small, simple font. I’d actually
gotten it done under less than stellar circumstances-a friend of a friend that
wanted to become a tattoo artist once he got out of high school-but it helped
me get through a dark period, especially with my eating disorder. And under
some magical stroke of luck, it actually didn’t look bad and it never got
infected.

He smiled, “I know the basics.”

His eyes went from my tattoo back up to mine.
I hoped he wouldn’t ask me to explain.

He continued to run over the words with his
thumb as he stared at me. Then, he lowered his head and I felt his lips where
his thumb had been, where the words were. He lowered my shirt back down and
moved his head back up to mine.

He continued to hover over me. Gently, he
stuck his forehead to mine. “I never told you a secret,” he whispered.

I was grateful to him for changing the
subject.
 

I let out a shaky laugh, “Later.”

Both of our heads moved as he nodded.

He moved to kiss my lips again, but with
the same gentleness he’d started with, like this kiss was the bookend to this
chapter.
 

--

I awoke to the strange suspicion that
someone was breathing next to me. And then I remembered. My eyes opened in
alarm. I was as awake as I’d ever been.
What
had I done?

I wanted to leave without waking him, but I
knew it wasn’t going to happen. His legs were tangled with mine; the fort was
so small that my space was his.

Suddenly, panic was replaced with despair.
I moved his arm from my midsection and sat up slowly. In that moment, I would
have done anything to go back in time and never have come here this summer.

In his sleeping form, Jessie seemed even
more vulnerable. He’d been so trusting, so willing to share everything with me
even when I knew he was scared to. And I hadn’t deserved any of it. How
terrible a person could I have been to actually think this was okay?

There was no amount of pain in the world
that could justify hurting the boy in front of me. I knew I would start crying
any minute now so I inched towards the fort’s exit, which was unfortunately
right by his feet.

I jumped when I felt his hand wrap around
my arm, “Where are you going?” He asked groggily.

I closed my eyes, pushing away everything
I’d been thinking about, and making sure that my voice wouldn’t give me away. I
was grateful that my back was to him.

“Home,” I said slowly. “Believe it or not,
I usually don’t spend the night with boys whose last names I don’t know.”

“It’s Baker,” he said. I could hear the
smile in his voice.

“Well, thanks for the info. I’m gonna go
now.”

He sat up, “Wait, what’s the rush? I can
make breakfast.”

“You cook?” I asked in my most sarcastic
tone. My eyes were still firmly shut.

“What I really meant, was that I would take
you to breakfast.”

I was quiet. He placed his hand on my arm
again, he was trying to get me to face him.

“It’s kinda weird talking to your back.”

When I didn’t respond, he crawled closer to
the exit, where I was still lingering.

His smile faltered when he saw my face, “Is
something wrong?”

“Nope,” I responded with a tight smile.
“Nothing besides that hairdo anyway,” I said patting the top of his disheveled
hair.

‘I
shouldn’t even be allowed to touch him.
’

“I know what you’re doing. You’re freaked
out about last night. You don’t have to be. It was a good night…right?” He
asked.

He hesitated, “You know I’d never do
anything to hurt you…?”

I felt a piece of my heart break away. I’d
never be able to say the same. I couldn’t respond.

“Say something. Tell me what you’re
thinking.”

There was that pleading voice again. It was
almost as if he could hear it every time I started to shut down. I tried not to
concentrate on the circles he saw drawing on my arm. I didn’t deserve to feel
better.

“I’m thinking…that I really need to go
brush my teeth.”

The circles stopped. He stared at me with
wide eyes, “That’s it?”

Even Jessie didn’t have infinite patience.
I knew his was wearing thin. It wouldn’t take much longer before he would be
done with me for good.

“Every time I think we’re getting
somewhere…”

He didn’t bother to finish. I looked away.

He gripped my chin, raising my eyes towards
his, “Eli, please, stay. Talk to me.”

I could hear desperation in his voice. This
was my last chance. My phone rang.

I reached for it without a moment’s
hesitation.

“Hello?” I said curiously. It was Ash
calling.

“Eli?” Ash sounded as if she’d been crying.

“What is it?” I asked, almost too numb to
panic.

I couldn’t understand a word she was
saying, only that whatever was wrong had something to do with her parents.

“I’ll be right there,” I said.

I hung up and turned back to Jessie.

I took a deep breath, “Like I was saying, I
have to go.”

His eyes told me that he was torn between
disappointment and anger. I seemed to bring that combination out of him a lot.
Today, he settled on anger.

“Whatever. Go,” he said rigidly.

And as much as it hurt, a part of me was
glad he hated me.

It’s Tearing Up My
Heart…

This morning had a
rather alarming and unpleasant start. Rachel didn’t seem to have a problem
being in the same room with me anymore, she unless it had to do with my
injuries, she didn’t talk to me.

We both happened to be
in the living room in the middle of breakfast, when out of the blue she said,
“By the way, that guy that crashed into you, he’s dead.”

I almost spit out my
coffee.

“What?”

“Complications from
his surgeries,” she shrugged, not looking up from her food.

I stared, shocked,
“How do you know?”

“It was in the
newspaper, his funeral’s today,” she said casually.

What bothered me even
more than the news was the nonchalant way in which she’d delivered it.

“Why do you sound like
you’re just telling me the weather? Can you at least pretend you give a shit?”

“No, I can’t,” she
said matter-of-factly.

 
“Rachel that’s an awful thing to say, and I
know you’re not exactly the sweetest person but‒”

“He was an idiot. What
he was doing was irresponsible and stupid. Not only did he put himself in
danger but he put everyone on that track in danger. You could
both
be
dead! We could have been burying you too today. So no, I don’t care! I don’t
give a damn that that asshole is dead!”

I was bewildered; I
hadn’t realized she had been so angry about the whole thing. I jumped when she
slammed the front door. The whole house seemed to shudder.
 

---

“How are you doing?” I asked stupidly.

Things had
been going really well for all of us. Rachel was having random tantrums and
Ashton was a mess.

When she
wasn’t crying into my shoulder she was locked in her room. And it showed; she
looked completely different from the always presentable Ash I knew.

I hadn't
seen her do anything except cry since that horrendous night with Jessie. So I
thought it a miracle when I actually saw her come downstairs. She didn’t look
too great, but still, it was progress.

I looked
back at Rachel on the other side of the kitchen, hoping she wouldn't say
anything to ruin Ash's already fragile condition, but now she
really
wasn’t talking to me, and I
figured asking would only have the opposite effect.

“Wow you
look awful!”

I sighed. ‘
So much for hoping
.’

Ash sent
Rachel a pointed glared before walking over to the fridge.

"Seriously,
what's up with you? Is it Julian?"

She stood
with the fridge open, her shoulders slumped and her head down. I could hear her
starting to sob again.

"Enough
with the questions," I said, annoyed.

I saw Ash
sigh and turn around, then she wiped her face and sighed again.

"My
parents are getting a divorce," she said, and then she started sobbing, as
if the realization had hit her all over again.

"Oh...?"
Though I would never let Ash know it, I was sympathetic to Rachel’s confusion.

I walked
over to hug Ash when she started crying harder. I glared at Rachel, hoping she
would get the hint.

"Look,
it happens," Rachel finally finished.

I followed
Ashton up the stairs in exasperation.

"I'm
going back to bed," she sobbed, closing the door to her room before I
could come in.

I sighed as
I headed back downstairs. It was difficult for me to relate to Ash’s misery,
and I had yet to find any comforting words for her.

Even though
Rachel had undone all of Ash’s progress, it actually sounded like she was
trying to help, in her own twisted way.

"Wow.
You were actually trying to comfort her," I said in amazement.

"Always
painting me to be the evil one. But between the two of us, you’d take that
prize. You lie to everyone, including yourself, and it’s pathetic."
        

"I
guess you have a lot to get of your chest today," I observed.

"Go to
hell," she replied, continuing to glare at me even as I made tea, grabbed
some food, and headed back to Ash’s room.

‘Ten points for consistency,’
I noted mentally.
 

---

It was
routine now that I would check on Ash every morning. I knocked on her door,
hoping her problems would help me forget about mine.

"Come
in," I heard her say quietly.

She looked
like she had showered, even though I could tell she had been crying again.
Still, I was relieved to see she was making progress.

The night
she found out about her parent’s divorce, she had been completely devastated.

“What happened?” I’d asked when I finally
got to the house.

“My mom was having an affair.”

I was shocked and confused. Her parents
always seemed so happy together, like newlyweds rather than a couple that had
been together for two decades. They seemed to genuinely love each other. They
finished each other’s sentences and hung out like they still weren’t tired of
each other; I’d never even seen them fight.

“My dad wants nothing to do with her…and I
don’t blame him.”

I saw the way it turned her world upside
down, because so much of her optimism was based on the relationship her parents
had. I was perplexed because I was pretty happy when my parents told me they
were getting a divorce. More so, I was relieved. Besides, most of my friends’
parents were divorced. In my eyes, it was almost like a rite of passage.

“It’s like my life is a lie.”

Although I couldn’t understand why Ash
looked like she’d been told her parents were dying instead of getting a
divorce, I sort of felt sad too. And for a minute I saw things through her
eyes.
 
And then I started to understand
why she was so devastated.

Ashton had always believed in true love,
the kind you read about in fairytale books. I think her parents really inspired
that belief, so now, not only did she feel betrayed by her mother, she felt
like she had been lied to by the world.

 
Nowhere in her fairytales did the princess run
off and have an affair. For Ashton, this whole thing made her question love in
general, and most importantly, it made her very afraid because she was falling
in love.

Nothing could make her first love more
fragile than the collapse of the relationship she looked up to and admired her
whole life. I could see how she was losing everything she believed in, like a
disillusioned child.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” she’d said.

I looked
down at something I had stepped on.

I picked up
an envelope that said Ashton on the front and pulled out the note inside.

"Ash,
it's from Julian."

She barely
looked up.

“Speaking
of Julian, I haven't seen him around lately.”

I walked
towards her with the letter.

“I’m not in
the mood for company,” she replied.

“That’s
fair,” I nodded. And after all, I was never entirely sure about Julian. But I’d
been certain that
she
was. I looked
at her meaningfully, “But if you wait too long, he might not be around when you
are
in the mood.”

Though I
knew she understood, she dismissed my words, apparently trying to solve a
riddle written on her comforter.

I assumed
her disinterest meant I would have to read the letter to her. I began:

Dear Ashton,

Divorce sucks but
what can you do? Want to get ice cream? I miss you.

   
Sincerely,
                   

The only person
you know who could write such an articulate letter
.

I
immediately wished I hadn’t read it. Was that supposed to make her feel better?
Maybe it ran in the family...

Ash didn't
say a word; she didn't seem to know what to think either. After a moment, she
motioned for me to hand it to her.

Without
glancing at it she began ripping it, slowly and meticulously. First in half,
then she ripped those halves, and she ripped it again for good measure before
handing it to me.

She fell
back into her bed, her face buried underneath a sea of pillows.

"Okay...,"
I said, confused.

I stared
down at all the broken pieces.

What the
hell was I supposed to do with them?