How to Heal a Broken Heart (8 page)

Seeing him makes me realize that there’s no way I could have possibly imagined what happened between us, because a feeling of dread washes over me.

“Have you talked to him since that night?” Chelsea asks, coming up beside me.

I shake my head no and she sighs. “What are you going to do?”

I look at her and then I start gathering up the plates and empty beer bottles left behind on lane twelve. “I’m going to finish clearing these tables, then I’m going to count my drawer out, and then I’m going to head home for the night.”

Chelsea frowns. “No, I mean what are you going to do about Andrew?”

I shrug. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” she asks. “You can’t just do nothing.”

“Sure I can,” I say.

Chelsea doesn’t say anything and for a second I think maybe she’s mad at me but when I turn around I see why she got so quiet. Andrew’s walking right toward us. I’m about to make a run for it when Chelsea swoops in grabs the plates out of my hands and announces she’s taking them to the kitchen for me. Then she runs off.

I have no choice but to stay put -- if I move now it will be totally obvious that I’m taking off just because he’s coming over. He’s wearing a pair of khaki shorts with a dark green polo. His hair is sticking up a little in the front and I feel my stomach start to flip as he gets closer to me.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” I say, turning around and starting to wipe off the table.

“How have you been?”

“Fine. I mean, good. Or great. Actually, I’ve been great.” I’m totally babbling.

“Um, okay.” He sounds unsure. “So I was hoping you’d still be here.”

“Why?” I ask, turning around to look at him.

“Well,” he says looking me in the eye. “I thought you might want to talk or something.”

He thought I might want to talk? Is he kidding? Talk about what? How I completely threw myself at him and made a fool of myself? No thanks.

“What do we have to talk about?” I ask, shrugging.

He looks a little taken aback. “Um, I don’t know…”

“Well, have fun bowling,” I say and start to walk away.

“Yeah, thanks,” he says, and for a second I think I got away with it , for a second I think I’m in the clear. But then I hear his voice. “You’re unbelievable.”

And when I turn around the look on his face is one that’s filled with anger. Yikes.

“How’s that?” I ask slowly.

“Well,” he says in a snotty tone. “Who jumps on top of someone one night in a car and then wants to pretend it never happened?”

I frown. “It’s not that I want to pretend it never happened. I just don’t think there’s any point in talking about it.”

He shakes his head and starts to back away from me. “You know what?

Whatever, Stephanie. If you want to continue to live in your little fantasy world go ahead, ‘cause I’m done trying to break through.”

Wow, my little fantasy world? Is he kidding?

“My little fantasy world? Okay, Andrew, whatever you have to tell yourself.”

“I don’t tell myself anything,” he snaps. “You walk around choosing to shut everyone out, you act like you could care less what anyone thinks, when inside you’re screaming to talk about what you really feel. You hide out with Evan during the week making him not tell anyone, because God forbid anyone thinks you actually have a friend. So what do I think, Stephanie? I think I feel bad for you.”

He feels bad for me? Bad for me? Is he kidding? I don’t need sympathy from anyone, especially not him.

I laugh out loud. “You feel sorry for me? Oh, give me a break. You don’t have to feel sorry for me. Is that why you kissed me back? Because you felt sorry for me? Oh, poor Stephanie, the sad girl who walks around all day with a book and who’s such a loser that she throws herself at your perfect self so that she’ll feel something again, right?

Well, don’t worry, Andrew, no one will find out about the other night. I can’t wait to forget it myself.”

He walks slowly toward me and places both of his hands on my shoulders. “I didn’t kiss you back because I felt bad for you, and I could care less about who finds out.

I feel bad for you because someone fucked with your head so bad that you’re too scared to let anyone in who might just give you something to be happy about. Even if they’re right in front of you, looking you in the eye, you can’t do it. “ Then he drops his hands and shakes his head. “And that’s just sad.”

He turns around and walks away, leaving me standing there alone with nothing left to do but watch him go.

By the time I get home and walk into my house I’m crying. I feel like I can’t breath and like my heart might explode in my chest. He has no idea what he’s talking about. I’m not scared of anything. I keep my distance from people because I like being alone. I like things less complicated. He can’t tell me who I am. He doesn’t even know me.

“Stephanie?” my mom says, getting up from couch as I burst through the door into the living room. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I say, trying to push past her toward my room. All I want is be alone, to go in my room and shut the door and never come out. “I’m just tired.”

“No,” mom says, not letting me past her.

“Just leave me alone, Mom, please just leave me alone.” I try to push away from her but she grabs me and pulls me into her arms.

“Please,” she says. “Please let me help you.”

And for the first time in a long time, I do. I let her help me. I let someone help me.

I tell her everything. I tell her about what Rich did to me, about how I wasted all my money on him, how he shattered me. I tell her about summer school and my job at the bowling alley. I tell her how horrible I was to Emily, and I tell her about Chelsea and Andrew. About what happened with Andrew and about what he said to me tonight. But mostly I tell her about how empty I feel, and about how awful I feel about myself.

My mom doesn’t interrupt me, she lets me talk and get everything out. Everything that I have been holding onto for months, and when I’m done talking she takes me over to the couch and I curl up next to her with her arms around me.

Even though I know I let her down, even though I know I let everyone down, it feels so good to finally tell someone, to finally say everything out loud. Sometimes you can only hold things in for so long before you reach a breaking point.

After a few minutes of silence except for my quite sobs, my moms pulls away and looks at me. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“About which part?”

My mom thinks for a second. “All of it.”

“There’s nothing I can do.”

My mom smiles. “Of course there is. People mess up all the time. It’s how you fix it that really matters. Besides, you’ve already started.”

Is she crazy? I’m sitting here crying my eyes out.

“No, I haven’t, Mom.”

She looks at me seriously. “Although I don’t approve of how long you dragged out the lying, you did pay for your own summer school. You have been doing well with that.”

“Dad’s going to flip out.”

She nods. “Probably. But being mature is about dealing with the consequences of your actions. Stephanie, your world isn’t over because you lost a guy. Your happiness doesn’t depend on one person. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I promise you this is a very, very small piece of who you are.”

“Mom,” I say. “I want to be okay again.”

“Then let’s make a plan about how we’re going to get you there.”

And so we do.

It’s been a few weeks since that night at the bowling alley with Andrew, and I haven’t talked to him since. I haven’t talked to Chelsea either, or spent any time with Evan after summer school. After that night, my mom thought I needed a little bit of time off from everything except for school to get things in order. So she called the bowling alley and told them I needed a few weeks off, and told me I was only allowed to go out for school.

When we told my dad about what happened he was really mad at first, but after a lot of talking he finally calmed down. They agreed that I should have to pay for summer school myself since it was my fault that everything got so far out of hand. My parents agreed to let me try to earn their trust back again, but I know it will take a while since I was lying to them for so long.

I also started seeing a therapist a few times a week, but eventually when things calm down my dad says I can slow down to a few times a month. I never thought I would need therapy, but sometimes life throws things at you that you just don’t know how to deal with on your own. The therapist is actually really nice and I already feel better this week then I have in a while.

Me and my parents put together a budget for me, started looking at colleges, and we talked. Talked about everything. It was nice, but there were still things left that I needed to take care of, things I still needed to make right. There were a lot of things I’d realized these past few weeks, but I was still really scared of the things I still had to fix, because let’s face it -- knowing you have to do something doesn’t make it easy.

I’m telling myself this as I pace back and forth in front of the bowling alley exactly two weeks later. I’m telling myself the hardest thing and the right thing are the same, but it isn’t exactly doing anything for the huge rock of nerves rolling around in my stomach.

Everyone I need to talk to is less than a hundred feet away, everything I have to do tonight is here and now, and that thought is a lot to handle at the moment. I run my hands through my hair and remind myself to breath, and then I gather up all the courage I can and start to walk inside.

Chelsea and Evan are standing up at the register laughing about something and I relax a little because Andrew isn’t anywhere in sigh. It might be a little easier to talk to the two of them without Andrew around, at least at first.

“Hey,” I say, walking up to them.

“Stephanie!” Chelsea says, pulling me into a hug. “Where have you been? I called you like a million times! You are not going to believe what happened to me! Brad totally asked me out!”

I grin at her. “That’s great, Chelsea, really great. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. I have to tell you exactly how it happened. So there I was, just minding my own business and –“

“What about me?” Evan says, interrupting her.

Chelsea shoots him a dirty look. “What about you?”

“Well, maybe Stephanie wants to hear about what’s been going on with me.”

“But she sees you everyday in summer school,” Chelsea points out.

“Yes, but I have a very exciting life. New things are always happening that I need to tell people about right away.”

Chelsea laughs. “That’s ridiculous, you do not –”

“I totally want to hear all about everything that’s going on with both of you,” I say, interrupting them. “But can I talk to you guys for a second first?”

They both stop and look at me.

“Sure,” Chelsea says. “Is everything okay?”

I nod. “Yeah, I just …Chelsea, I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me this summer. You didn’t owe me anything that day in the hall at school, in fact you barely even knew me. But you helped me sneak into summer school, you got me this job, and I’m really grateful.”

“YOU SNUCK INTO SUMMER SCHOOL?” Evan asks, practically screaming.

Chelsea ignores him. “Oh, Steph, you don’t have to thank me. I wanted to do it, all of it.”

“Still,” I say. “You didn’t have to and I just wanted you to know I feel really lucky to have you as a friend.”

She smiles, then pulls me in for another hug. When I pull back I turn my attention to Evan. “And Evan, you wanted to be my friend without any questions asked, with no restrictions, and in the most non-selfish way ever, and I repay you by making you lie to people about us hanging out. It was a really selfish thing to do and I’m sorry. My only defense is that for a while I was too scared to allow myself to have friends again.

But that doesn’t make what I did to you right. So I’m really, really, sorry and I hope you can forgive me.” I bite my lip and wait for his response.

He grabs me and pulls me into a hug. “That was beautiful,” he says. “Just beautiful.”

“Oh, jeez,” Chelsea says from beside us. “You’re gonna make him cry.”

“Come here, Chels,” Evan says, grabbing her arm. “Group hug time!”

And to my surprise, Chelsea lets him pull her toward us and that’s how we all stay for a minute, hugging in the middle of the bowling alley with people walking all around us. And you know what? I don’t even care, because they’re my friends. They truly are.

When we all finally break apart, I let out a little sigh and try to sound casual as I ask if Andrew’s there.

Evan nods and points to the other side of the bowling alley. “Down there.”

I turn around to look where he’s pointing and my heart falls in my chest when I do. Because Andrew’s not alone. Standing next to him, cheering him on as he bowls, is Mary. I don’t move for a second, and I’m not sure how I’m going to, but I know that somehow I have to.

“Maybe right now isn’t the best time to try and talk to him,” Chelsea says to me.

She’s right. I could turn around and run out of here. I could take what I said to Chelsea and Evan and call it a night. But that’s something the old me would do, the me who didn’t want to allow herself to feel anything. So I push the doubt out of my mind and shake my head.

“No. It has to be now.” And then without another word I start to walk toward him.

With each step I take, I start to feel more and more nervous, and by the time I reach him I feel like I might pass out.

“Hey,” I say, just as he picks up the bowling ball to roll it down the lane again.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

“No,” Mary says behind me in a snotty tone. “Actually, you can’t.”

Andrew’s eyes meet mine, and for a second I think he’s going to say yes, I think he’s going to come with me somewhere so he can hear what I have to say. But then he shakes his head.

“It’s not really a good time, Stephanie.” And then he turns around and gets ready to release the ball. I sigh and turn around and start to walk away, and as the bowling ball makes contact with the pins, I hear Mary start to jump up and down clapping for him.