A/N: I apologize in advance.
Hearts don't break. I've learned with time and some of my more repetitive mistakes how lousy a euphemism that is.
They don't break. They don't crack. Glass and porcelain break or shatter. Even stone can crack with enough force. Bones are solid, or broken, or fixed. Meanwhile, feelings are not so concrete as the terms we use for them.
Our hearts are smallish fists made of soft tissue. They tear. They clog. They clot. They stop.
Heartbreak doesn't account for what happens in our stomachs and throats, says nothing of clenched jaws or pressured sinuses or stinging eyes. It includes nothing about the hollowness we harbor, how we become empty rooms. It definitely doesn't account for our neuroses, because brain functions aren't poetic.
Heartbreak seems so small of a phrase. Too small. Too confined to romance, when friends or family could just as easily hurt you, sometimes with more precision and gusto. People often forget how we shred, scatter, and bury our own happiness — sometimes because we don't know any better, other times in an attempt to value others over ourselves. We too frequently allow ourselves to live with pain, never once mentioning all the times we created it.
So, no, hearts don't break. Not really.
I like to think of it more as a rupture.
"Are you okay?" Ellie asked as we walked through the school lobby on a shockingly cold spring day.
"Great. Fantastic. Magnifico." I felt like shit.
"Okay, just cause you heard Marco's dad say it doesn't mean you can say it."
We had a MI project and I grouped with Ellie and Ellie's new boyfriend Marco, which mostly consisted of us watching Bollywood movies and eating authentic Italian food in a warm and welcoming townhouse. A while longer, and Ellie and I tried to learn How Soon Is Now by The Smiths on the upright piano, failing gloriously. Marco's dad came home, overjoyed to meet Marco's girlfriend and complimenting our very bad piano playing.
Even when both of Marco's parents asked me borderline not okay things when trying to decipher my racial ambiguity— something Marco tried and failed to stop — I couldn't help but entertain the questions. In retrospect, it's amazing what I put up with to reside in places that actually felt normal and safe, especially under the guise of 'they mean well'.
Regardless, it actually did feel like they meant well, and the food was too good to pass up, so Ellie already made plans to have any and all Ashley-less hang outs over there from now on.
"Point taken. Maybe I should take Italian this summer. Get a tutor." I spotted Craig, Sean, and Ashley Kerwin at the entrance of the school and grimaced. "You know, since I have no other plans."
Ellie glanced between me and Ashley. "You're overreacting. And why Italian?"
"Reasons," I said as straight-faced as possible. Ellie rolled her eyes, and I tried again as we pushed through the front doors. "Fine. You got me. I really want a hot Italian tutor to say things to me like 'ciao, bela' and 'mi amore'. Or a Spanish tutor, literally from Spain, who calls me 'Querida' or Cara Mia'."
Clearly the rest of the group tuned into the conversation when Craig's brows shot up. "So Gomez Addams."
"Yes," I said matter-of-factly, my stare flat and bordering on bitter as it met his. After the drama class project a few weeks ago, our hang outs went from every other day to once or twice a week — and when they did happen, we spent far too much time discussing Ashley. "I would like Gomez Addams to tutor me."
"In what?" Ellie asked.
"Obviously ze language of love."
"Pretty sure that's a French accent."
"Any language is a love language, El. Think outside the box." I tapped my temple twice, and she rolled her eyes as she laughed. Ashley forced a laugh like she was trying to be part of the joke, and Sean snorted and shook his head. Craig chuckled quietly. "Seriously though, Gomez sees no one but Morticia. They are the perfect relationship. Almost as much as Sean and Emma."
Sean looked away but the smile was there. "Shut up."
"Or Ellie and Marco?" I offered.
"Please shut up," Ellie groaned, she headed on her way. "See you guys tomorrow."
When I turned to Craig, he was staring, but shook his head like he desperately needed to shake something out of it. "So, anyway, I turn the paper test over, and I'm sure I studied the wrong stuff."
"Armstrong's exam?" I asked.
He blew out a breath. "Bane of my existence."
"I know the feeling," Ashley said with a sigh, and despite her not doing anything at the moment to make me wish she'd go away, the urge was there. "The exam I'm really dreading is science."
"Right, I will have plans," I said, snapping my fingers. "Memorizing the periodic table in summer school."
Not actually. I would most likely pass by the the skin of my teeth with the increased time I spent studying alone in my house when I wasn't distracted by my laptop.
Craig groaned. "Tell me about it. Science is totally my worst subject."
"Maybe you need a little help from your old science study partner," a voice called out behind us. Older. A man's voice.
If I wasn't already freezing from the unexpected weather, I'd think it was the icy demeanor suddenly coming from Craig.
"Dad?" Craig said, the color draining from his face. "What are you— what are you doing here?!"
And the earth opened wide, darkness swallowing us in a blink. Or maybe that was just me. We all turned, slowly, with small, even steps, my spine straight as a rod.
Doctor Manning strode over with his arms folded, dressed in a suit and wearing glasses I now found vaguely familiar until I realize they were exactly like the ones Craig wore in that drama scene. The thought gave me a chill. "I just thought I'd come by and see my son...meet his friends."
I wondered for a horrible second what it would be like for my friends — the ones I had now — to meet my dad.
Ellie met him only twice, on days where he was mostly sober. I knew the tics well enough to make excuses for her to leave when I felt the turn in his mood. Even then, she didn't like being around him. She convinced her mom to let me come over here and there despite Ellie's mom outright disliking me.
Alex saw him the most, on those days when someone had to have the wherewithal to gather my frozen limbs into my closet and lock the door. She'd tell ghost stories for hours until he'd leave, and she finally deemed the apartment safe.
"I'm Ashley Kerwin," Ashley said, extending a hand, always a parent's dream of a child. I could count on one hand the times she wasn't immediately fawned over by an adult.
"Hi, Ashley. Nice to meet you," he said, shaking her hand with a smiling, the winningest smile I could imagine. He turned to me with a narrowed stare through all the charm. "And you...?"
My arms folded over my stomach, and I took a measured step back without speaking or making eye contact. Similarly, Sean said nothing, but spit directly in the space between them.
Craig's father retracted his hand, then turned to his son like none of it happened. "Can I give you a lift home?"
"I live with Joey now," Craig said automatically.
"To Joey's. We can catch up on the way."
"...Um, I can't."
This deflated the man a little, which was the very least he deserved. "Okay...uh, I don't know, maybe we could have dinner tomorrow night. You can come by work."
Craig swallowed. "Dad—"
"Just think about it, okay?" Craig's dad backed up, withdrawn, and walked away slowly. "I got to go."
"He seemed nice," Ashley offered uneasily, and I snorted.
"Yeah, well he didn't have a belt in his hand," Craig bit back.
It was Sean who said the thing that was really on our collective minds, though. "You're not actually gonna go, are you?"
Craig didn't answer.
When we parted, Sean and I going toward the crap side of town while Craig and Ashley meandered away, my nerves got the better of me.
"You don't think he'd actually go, right?" I asked, kicking at some loose gravel.
Sean didn't say anything for a while as he examined the road ahead. "Dunno."
"It could be really dangerous."
"Yeah."
"But he wouldn't just go without letting someone know." He didn't answer that one, and I went on. "Because that would be really, really dumb, and what if something happened?"
"Hm."
"That's it? Hm?" I swatted lightly at his arm. "That's all I get?"
After a minute or so, he finally asked, "So...why are you mad at Craig?"
"I'm not."
"Yeah, okay."
The next day was the strangest day of my life, like from beginning to end, truly bizarre.
It started with Science, during which I nearly threw hands with Ashley after she said the one thing I could not fathom forgiving in this context. "People can change."
"That's bull," I said, not looking her directly in the eye, but instead taking out my science textbook very slowly. "People can be held accountable for the things they do."
She was taken aback, probably because we were arriving at the anniversary of the last time I bit her head off, and we didn't continue the conversation.
Craig's eyes flitted between the two of us like we were the personifications of his moral dilemma, and I didn't like the implication. When class ended, he joined Ash, and I pretended it didn't bother me.
On my way out of class, I heard the strangest sound. "Hey, Audrey."
I stopped and turned to see Jimmy catching up to me. I turned and looked around.
"Hi?" I asked more than greeted.
"How are you? How are you doing?"
My eyes narrowed. "Fine."
"Cool. Good. That's, um..." He swallowed. "Are you busy after school?"
"I'm...not sure yet. Why?"
"I dunno. It's dumb, but..." He laughed nervously, and I won't lie, it was a good sound to hear. "I was looking through some stuff the other day and found some old cassettes, including..."
He dug in the pocket of his school bag and an old tape manifested there, masking tape on one side with the words T.O. Ballers on the front in blocky letters. I snatched it from his hand, eyes wide as saucers. "Oh my god. No way!"
"Still plays and everything." His scrunched up his face. "We were the biggest geeks."
"What? Your Mickey Mouse raps didn't hold up?"
"Yeah, and neither did your Sailor Moon dramas."
I winced, but could help but laugh. "I thought you, uh...how did you put it?"
"Flung it off my balcony into oncoming traffic? Yeah, no, that was just..." He trailed off, and I knew there was no answer he could give that wouldn't rightfully piss me off.
I changed the subject. "God, the summer with the Talk Boy..."
For those who aren't aware, Talk Boy was a tape recorder marketed to kids with buttons to change the speed and pitch of their voices. It was genius in its bulky simplicity. It was a way to speak with no one listening and listen without having to respond. Perfect for the weird 8 year old who didn't talk in class but somehow maintained a friendship with the coolest kid in school.
"Yeah," he cleared his throat. "So, I've been thinking about that and everything else, I guess. And...I made some mistakes."
"Some?"
"I just want to make things right, and I thought it might be nice just to hang out with old friends."
"And this in no way has to do with you and Spinner fighting?" It was a thing. Spinner stole something of Jimmy's, got caught. You had to be there, honestly.
"Actually—"
"Aud?" I heard at the doorway, and turned to see Craig. "You coming?"
I stalled in my answer, looked back at Jimmy who looked down and away, and nodded.
"Yeah." I handed the cassette back to Jimmy. "MK tourney at the mall?"
Jimmy glanced up and the beginnings of smile were there. "Yeah. Sounds good."
When I got to the door, I didn't elaborate to Craig on what just happened, and he stared after me as I passed.
"So, where's Ashley?" I asked on the way out of school for the day.
Craig shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "Busy. You know, Environmental club."
"Right." I had many issues with the Environmental club, but mostly Emma's approach to helping the planet. And with Ashley in the club too, I definitely had no reason to give them the benefit of the doubt.
"What's going on with you and Jimmy?"
I stopped on the last step of the school. "What?"
"You guys were kind of having...a moment earlier."
"Hardly. I think he's just lonely. Ash broke up with him. Spinner betrayed him. What you were seeing was nostalgia." I wrung the strap of my bag. "Speaking of...where are you headed?"
Bit of a pointed comment, but I wasn't known for my subtlety.
He looked away. "Home."
And, right then, I felt a choice being made, one to add to the rift already forming between us.
Sighing, I nodded and started walking again. "Of course."
"I did want to talk to you about something first." He caught up as I stopped again, adjusting the bag on his shoulder and meeting my eyes. "The dance."
I swallowed, my heart going from 0 to 100 miles per hour. I watched his nervous movements, and suddenly my resolve disappeared. I wasn't sure what I wanted him to say or what to expect. "Oh, uh...what about it?"
The look he gave me was a wall, completely unreadable, and I braced myself for his answer. "I'm thinking of asking Ashley."
And the ground crumbled beneath me all at once.
"Oh." When I swallowed again, there was a lump there, and I wondered how I was still standing when there was no floor. My mouth barely moved as I pushed some semblance of a thought out. "Cool."
"Is that okay?" he asked, but it sounded a lot like 'are you okay'.
"Why are you asking me?" I realize now I never used this tone with Craig, the one full of venom. I hadn't used it at all since my encounter with Alex months ago, not even when I argued with Spinner. I couldn't stop it.
"Because you're you." He exhaled like he was completely exhausted, and I tried my best to decipher what that even meant, but I wasn't really there at the moment. "We went together last time, and I didn't want to ask if that was still the plan for this time."
If this was him asking me, it wasn't incredibly clear — and that was somehow so much worse than not asking. I'd find out later how common this was with Craig.
The urge to cling was overwhelming, suffocating. In theory, I could accept the half-measured invitation, and take something from Ashley once and for all. I could be grade eight Audrey and do everything without thinking. To envision the best outcome despite the signs, and to be wrong again, which was mostly what brain was telling me. Only this time, I wouldn't lose a stupid crush, I'd lose one of my best friends.
This was who I was now, too deficient to deal with my own shit, and too comfortable with using this person as an escape from my life. What if this wasn't normal, like so many other parts of my brain — and what would happen if I got worse?
I wondered if it would destroy me one day.
Or I could bow out, let him and Ashley happen. Make the choice simple. Wait for Ashley to do what she always does. And I'd still have my friend, through all of it, even if it hurt.
Maybe I was just like my mom. Just lonely. Maybe it would pass.
I wished we could be friends like before, but without whatever I felt. Movie nights and talking for hours and telling jokes... Forever in a space made for maybes, and what ifs. All of that addictive potential before reality set in.
Here's the truth of it, though: no matter what my answer was, things were doomed to change from here on out. People would get hurt from here on out. No fighting it.
The tightrope I walked for months was snapping, and I decided which way to fall.
I shook my head, and pushing the words out was the hardest thing I'd done in a while. "Yeah, that's fine. I mean, plans change, right?"
He smiled, but it was something weak and pained. Teetering between a grin and a wince. "Yeah."
"You guys have fun. I'll probably stay home." My chest felt tight, like a panic attack but I wasn't hyperventilating. "I, um...I gotta go. I have...plans. See you tomorrow."
I walked so suddenly and so quick, I didn't even remember to wave.
It was safe to say I was a Mortal Kombat pro. Highest score on the machine, a record set when I was thirteen, and no one could beat me.
Jimmy was relearning that the hard way as I took out my frustration through Kitana kicking Sub Zero's ass several times in a row.
"What? Again?" he groaned as I whooped. "This thing's rigged."
"It's a computer. What could I do? Hack it?" I tilted my head to the side and gave him a scrutinizing stare as we walked to the food court. "Just admit it. I'm better than you at something."
"Whatever. I can still whoop your butt at Street Fighter."
"Street Fighter is lame. Mortal Kombat is the superior fighting game. Everyone knows it." I folded my arms as we reached an empty table. "A deal's a deal. You owe me."
He sighed but grinned at the same time, going to one of the several counters and ordering. When he came back with cheese fries piled high, we sat at a table and this was not a date.
I picked at a fry when he finally changed the subject. "So, you and Craig."
"What?" I choked on my food. "What about me and Craig?"
He shrugged, picking at the same fries. "Nothing. Everyone thought you guys were, like, a thing."
Something that sat at the bottom of my stomach all day went solid all the way through. "Right. Cause Craig's my new stalking victim."
"That's not what I..." Jimmy didn't meet my eyes for a while. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. You didn't deserve that."
First one to actually say it outright.
"I know." I wasn't sure which statement I was saying that to, maybe all of them. "Doesn't matter. Craig likes Ashley, cause everyone likes Ashley. And I'm...better as a supporting player."
He seemed to be contemplating something, staring at the plate that was already half gone. "So, do you like Craig?"
I realized right then that this was only the second time anyone ever asked me that all year, and neither time was by someone I considered a friend at the moment.
I meant to say no, or anything really, but my throat dried up before I could form the word. Too much time not answering, and I was gaping like a caught fish, agony crumpling my face just the tiniest bit. I shook my head, not in answer, but to get something out of it. "I don't know. Maybe. I don't have the best run with crushes."
"Spinner shouldn't count. The guy's trash." He took a bite out of a fry. "And Craig's had a thing for you forever."
I took it more like it was a cruel joke and responded as such. "He does not."
"Why not? Have you looked in a mirror lately—" My eyes flew up to his and Jimmy looked away, laughing nervously.
"Jimmy, I look like a bargain bin version of your ex." Or at least that's how I saw myself now, with my hair grown out and the magenta fading to a weird copper. It was at least three months since the last dye job, and I had too much hair to justify that many jars of manic panic. The current plan was to cut off my hair, but then I'd just be more like Ashley, wouldn't I?
I mean, at least her hair wasn't red. That at least made me different from her.
"You look like you."
"What does that even mean?"
"It means you've always been a weird, sarcastic pain in the ass with loud opinions."
I held a hand to my heart. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
He tossed a fresh napkin at my head. "Ash is too afraid to be actually weird, and you bothered her so much. You never compromised who you were, even when everyone hated you. Do you understand how much she'd stress whenever you did even a little better than her? Grade seven, you chose Metallica for our historical heroes project and scored five points higher than her, and she wouldn't let it go for the rest of the year."
"I was hoping no one remembered I did that."
"That's not the point. You seem more you now than ever. Ash tries on new clothes and makeup and causes to match the people she wants to be around. She found one that works for her — for now, but she has no clue who she really is."
"Rinse, repeat," I mumbled.
"What?"
I shook my head. "Nothing."
"So, if Craig's asking Ashley to the dance, he's either an idiot, or too scared to ask you."
"...Or he already did, and I said no."
His brows furrowed. "What? Why?"
"Cause what if everyone's right?" I stared hard at the empty plate. "What if I'm some psycho who clings and doesn't know when to let go, and I turn the one person who made me feel like a regular human being against me? I can't do it again. I don't think I can recover from that."
Jimmy stayed quiet for a while, and we changed the subject.
The next day, I avoided Craig and Ashley for the most part, but when I did see them, they seemed so happy to just be around each other. Here it was, my new reality. He made his choice, and I encouraged it. This was the consequence.
He called once that night, and I didn't answer. The answering machine picked it up and he sounded annoyed and frantic, asking me to watch Angela until Joey got home.
I deleted the message, and I'd try to be friendly tomorrow.
And then everything fell apart.