Tear In My Heart

12th Grade

The first thing that you notice when Maya gets her cast off is that there are small bruises still left and she winces when she moves it.

"It'll still be a little sore for a little bit, especially after a surgery as extensive as the one we performed on you, Ms. Hart," the doctor tells her.

Of course, the next thing out of Maya's mouth is about when she'll be able to play the piano again. It's always about that fucking piano, and you wish she didn't love it so much so that you could push it over a bridge.

"We don't believe that you will ever be able to play at the same scale that you did before the fall, but with physical therapy, occupational therapy, and dedication, I believe that you will be able to make it back to an advanced level within the next couple years."

"Years?" The sound of the word leaving her lips makes your heart crack a little because it's laced with nothing less than tragedy and pure hopelessness.

"Yes. If everything we've placed to hold your bones and tissue in place does their job, we hope to recover two-thirds of the fine occupational skills that the skill level that you were at requires."

You hate that you know all she's hearing right now is that she'll never fully recover from this. She'll never be where she was before and she'll never be where she thinks she's supposed to be and she'll never truly completely recover in her eyes.

She slides her free hand into yours and you squeeze it, waiting for the doctor to leave before you go to wipe the tears you know are coming.

You really wish that she could be more open minded sometimes.

.

It comes to your attention that you've sort of sunk into a depression when your aunt calls and asks you what you've been up to lately.

"Nothing," you say, "I've been up to absolutely nothing lately."

You've barely eaten. You've been in the same clothes for at least three days. You've only showered once in the last week. You only get up for Will, though you've had him order in since last Tuesday and it's apparently already Friday.

God, You don't even know which day of the week it is anymore.

You remember your mother behaving this way after your father died. She fell into a pattern for about a month before she started working. She locked herself away because she couldn't face you or Will, and you wouldn't see her for days. You don't want to become that.

You can't become that.

That's exactly why when your Aunt Juliette offers to have you stay for two weeks with her and your uncle, you really want to say yes. You know that you can't because you'd have to make arrangements for everything you're responsible for, and you'd have to talk to Lucas first because midterms are coming up and he might be too stressed with you gone, but you really want to say yes, and so you tell her that.

"You can take off school, considering you don't actually need to be there."

You forgot that they were the only ones to know about your qualifications for early graduation. You'd entirely forgotten, the letter shoved somewhere back behind old bills and Christmas cards from your family all around, and you distinctly remember tucking it there so that Lucas wouldn't find it because if he found out about it, he would've insisted that you graduate immediately instead of filling up your senior schedule with bullshit classes to walk the stage beside him.

You know that he wouldn't find doing it together as necessary as you do.

You tell her that you'll think about it, and you can hear her smile when she says that you just give her the word and she'll have a ticket waiting for you.