Dissonance | ✓

12 | Bleeding Hearts

     Ximena and I arranged to meet at Johnson's Pond, on the outskirts of McLaren. The stagnant water festered. Pine trees and shrubs grew over the already narrow path. I had to remind myself that nothing was going to leap out and attack me as we walked along it. Sure enough, a dark grey squirrel scurried from the bushes and up a golden-leaved tree, nearly giving me a heart attack.

     We took a seat on a creaky bench by the pond. Ximena adjusted a cashmere scarf wrapped around her neck. She held her hair in a bun, leaving her eyes—lined with thick lashes—to be the star of the show.

     "Don't you live, like, two hours away from here?" I said.

     "Yeah, but I was around when we talked," she replied. Wherever 'around' was.

     Although she dropped whatever she was doing to meet me, I found it hard to believe that Ximena truly cared. "But you don't even like me. I mean, why come here because I just called you and asked?"

     "Yeah...you called me," she murmured to herself. "I don't not like you—if that makes sense. I just...I don't know. You sounded pretty distraught over the phone. And I guess if I was like that, I'd want somebody to be there for me." She picked at the dirt under her nails. I recognized this as a nervous habit of hers.

     "Well, thanks. I guess I was just really shocked," I took a pause to prepare myself. "My dad...isn't my dad. He hates me, and he's hated me for so long, because I'm the product of an affair." The lump in my throat swelled as I retold what my mother said.

     She stroked my arm. "I'm so sorry, that must really suck. But I hope you're not blaming yourself. It's not your fault."

     "I know that, but it still hurts. I can't help but feel guilty. I can't."

     Ximena brought my head to her chest, holding me tightly. At first, it was awkward. Then I felt her heart thumping softly and I curled into her embrace. It did not matter if this was apart of a bigger ploy of hers. I was in deep pain, and willing to take any comforting offered. I began sporadically crying.

     "Your face is a mess, Colleen," she looked at me in her lap once I calmed down.

     I flushed. "I want to wash up...but I don't want to go home."

     "Let's go to my place, then."

     Ximena guided me to a maroon BMW parked in the middle of the parking lot closest to Johnson's Pond. She unlocked the driver's door and started the ignition, while I rode shotgun. The dashboard was littered with papers, crumbs and wrappers.

     "I meant to clean-up. I just wasn't expecting passengers," she said sheepishly.

     "No, it's cool," I shrugged her off. "Can I turn on the radio?" "Sure." I pressed a button on the control panel and changed the station to the tai-state's alt-rock station.

     Ximena cranked up the volume. "I love this song."

     I watched her tap her finger on the steering wheel to the beat of the music, humming the melody softly, until she caught me.

     "What?" she half-laughed. I bit my lip, embarrassed. "Nothing."

∞

     The forty-minute drive took us to a townhouse neighborhood in a middle-class suburb. Ximena parked by the curb, even though a nearby sign instructed drivers not to, and led me to a peach house with a bed of bleeding heart flowers wilting on front of the porch. The door swung open before Ximena pulled a set of keys out.