Comics Will Break Your Heart

by Faith Erin Hicks

  Mir walked toward the Starbucks at the end of the road, past the SWEAT EVERY DAY sign in the yoga pants store’s window. She pushed open the door to Starbucks and stood in line, looking at the other people in the coffee shop, their faces bent to laptops or phones, mugs left forgotten on the tables in front of them.

  “What can I get you?” said the girl behind the counter, her short dark hair spiked artfully in every direction. Mir remembered her as the older sister of a boy a grade ahead of her. She’d left Sandford for art school in Halifax. It looked like she was back for the summer, bringing a little bit of city style with her. For a moment, Mir lost her train of thought, staring at the girl’s hair. She wondered how her own hair would look cut so short. It would probably still be curly. Probably not spikeable.

  “A large coffee,” Mir said.

  The spiky-haired girl handed Mir the coffee, the white-and-green cup warm in her hand. She piled as much sugar and two-percent milk into the coffee as she could, then walked out of the Starbucks. When she was back on the sidewalk, Mir took a careful sip of the coffee. Despite the sugar and milk, it still tasted too much like coffee, and she screwed up her face against the bitterness.

  She turned toward the designer yoga pants store and hurled the coffee at it. The paper cup hit the store’s front window with a satisfying smack and exploded all over it, brown liquid spewing everywhere.

  Mir stared at her handiwork, then turned and ran.

  After sprinting what felt like a safe distance from the Running Realm, Mir walked toward the park at the edge of Sandford. She couldn’t bear the thought of going home. She imagined Stella’s arms around her, saying it was okay, she would find another job. And even if she didn’t, it would still be okay. There were ways to pay for university. There were student loans and lines of credit and scholarships. Mir felt crushed under the weight of so many options.

  What’s the right decision? she thought. Should I leave Sandford? What if it all goes wrong, the way it did for my grandfather? If I don’t leave, then what? Why can’t someone just tell me what I should do?

  Mir wandered through the park, reaching the mouth of the river where it joined the ocean. She sat on the edge of the riverbank and stared at a cargo ship slowly chugging its way out of the Sandford harbor. There were large shipping containers stacked on the ship, the names of various countries painted on the side. China. Argentina. Chile. Is that where they’re going or where they’re from? Mir wondered.

  Her chest felt hollow. Mir leaned forward and dug her fingers into the grass in front of her, trying to think. She still had a year between now and graduation. She could get a new job. Who was hiring? Evan’s dad, maybe. She could haul sod and cringe when she saw him coming, towering over the landscaping site, swearing at anyone who wasn’t doing their job to his satisfaction. Evan hardly ever swore. How did someone like Evan, who thought making people laugh at his jokes was the ultimate achievement, have such an angry father?

  Mir plucked at the grass, tossing bits of it to the side. She could ask Ms. Archer for help with scholarship applications. She could apply for student loans. Wade through paperwork and tax returns, not understanding any of it, except for the mounting debt to pay for something she wasn’t even sure she wanted.

  What’s wrong with me that I don’t know what I want? Mir thought.

  The hollowness in her chest worked its way upward and burst out of her in an awful, gross sob. She bawled angrily for a long time, face turned to the grass under her hands, her body ridged with frustration over the unfairness of it all. It wasn’t fair that Berg was better suited to growing carrots than running a business, it wasn’t fair that tourists wanted to buy yoga pants instead of books or comics, it wasn’t fair that things couldn’t remain exactly how they were for one more measly year. Mir ripped up a few more strands of grass, flinging them futilely out in front of her.

  When she was done crying, Mir wiped the snot off her face with her work-shirt sleeve and walked toward the park entrance. There were several joggers slowly running down the path, sneakered feet beating a soft rhythm against the ground. Mir paused, recognizing Weldon as he jogged easily ahead of her.

  Mir watched him run, the way his feet struck the ground emphatically in the arc of each stride, his dark hair bouncing in rhythm, the inward-turned expression on his face. She thought about putting her hand on his shoulder, her palm catching on the bunched muscle, then sliding down his back.

  “Weldon Warrick,” Mir said. Weldon jogged on, oblivious. Mir took a deep breath and yelled his name.

  “WELDON WARRICK!”

  He missed a step, recovered, and turned toward her, pulling white earbuds out of his ears.

  “Why are you here?” Mir said.

  “What?”

  “Why are you here?” Mir said again, the last word coming out in a dry croak. Her throat was raw from crying. She hoped she’d wiped all the snot off her face.

  Weldon started walking toward her, then stopped and stood several yards away.

  “Why am I here in Sandford? Or why am I here in the cosmic sense?”

  Mir stared at the ground, feeling stupid and wondering what she actually meant by the question. There had been some logic behind it, but now she couldn’t remember what it was.

  “I’m here because I screwed up,” Weldon said. “I pushed my dad too far. I thought he’d put up with me acting like an idiot, but he proved me wrong. He’s making that movie and he can’t have me distracting him.” Weldon wrapped the white earbuds around his iPod, tucking it into the pocket of his shorts. “I guess I’m also here because years ago my grandfather and your grandfather made comics together, and those comics are still really important to some people.”

  “I lost my job,” Miriam said.

  “The job in the … um, the bookstore?” said Weldon. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”

  “It’s stupid,” Miriam whispered, her face pointed downward. The emptiness in her chest had faded, leaving behind dull embarrassment. It was a stupid job. I was stupid to care about it.

  Weldon didn’t say anything. Mir could still feel him standing in front of her. She couldn’t look up. Why did I say his name? Can I tell him to go away? Mir continued staring at her boots, feeling every second tick by.

  “I don’t think it’s stupid,” Weldon said. “It meant something to you. If something means something to you, it’s never stupid.”

  Mir looked up. Weldon was standing a few paces away from her, hands on his hips, sweaty and glowing from his run. Mir felt the thing in her chest flutter a little. She liked how Weldon’s hair was pushed back from his forehead. It made him look a bit younger. A bit more like a boy.

  “Even if that thing is a comic book?” Mir said.

  Weldon blinked at her.

  “Comic books mean a lot to some people,” he said. “That friend of yours I met at the store the other day, I could tell he loved comics. Don’t they mean anything to you?”

  “No,” said Mir, her throat raw. “I think they’re pretty awful. I think they destroy the people who love them the most.”

  Weldon looked down at his hands, his palms turned up. He seemed to be gathering himself, preparing to say something he’d been thinking for a while.

  “I think your family is really cool. I don’t know the whole story, but I’m sorry for what my family did to yours. You should—your family should have some part in this movie, in what the TomorrowMen became. I’m just—I would’ve liked to get to know you better. I guess that’ll never happen because, y’know, all that shitty history we have, but—” He spread his hands wide, gesturing helplessly. “I don’t know. You just seem cool, that’s all.”

  Mir stared dumbly at him. She remembered Weldon Warrick peering intently at Stella’s painting, hung on the wall of the Emporium of Wonders, his hands in his jacket pockets. Weldon Warrick sprawled on the ground in the parking lot, looking up at her with a crooked grin, his eye already swelling shut. Weldon Warrick at her family’s table, laughing at Henry’s stories
, listening to Nate tell him about his favorite cartoon show.

  And now Weldon Warrick was telling her she was cool, telling her he was sorry. Something tore in Mir’s chest, a heavy web that had wrapped itself around her the day she had first looked up her grandfather on the internet. When she’d first realized that there were so many things that could have been different. If Micah Kendrick hadn’t signed away the rights to his characters, if he hadn’t gotten sick, if Stella had been willing to carry on the copyright fight for him. So many small things, building up to one giant truth: the TomorrowMen and all their riches were lost to her family forever. It was a relief to feel that heavy, angry web bend and rip. She felt strange and light.

  “I think I’ve been kinda mean to you,” Mir blurted out.

  Weldon grinned. He ducked his head and his hair fell across his forehead. Mir wanted to reach out and push it back, to see him look young again.

  “Nah,” he said.

  “Yeah, I have,” Mir said. “I wanted someone to be angry at. I’m sorry.”

  “God,” Weldon said, still grinning. “Canadians.”

  “It’s all we know how to do: apologize, apologize, and then apologize some more. Oh—” Mir suddenly cringed, putting her hands over her face.

  “What?”

  “I threw a coffee—I threw it at the yoga pants store downtown. It splattered all over their window. I can’t believe I did that. I’m always the one making responsible decisions, and that was not a responsible decision at all.”

  “Did anyone see you?” Weldon said. “Anyone who knew who you were?”

  Mir thought for a moment.

  “I guess not? But what if they have cameras in the store? What if they have video of me throwing the coffee at the window? Did I totally just screw everything up?”

  “Probably not,” Weldon said. “I mean, to the camera thing. Maybe just stay low for the next few days. You’re not going back to work, are you?”

  “No, not since I’m not getting paid,” Mir said. “But I should call Berg. I kind of … I kind of ran out of the store when he said I was fired. He’s a terrible businessman, but he’s still a friend. I’ve known him for ages.” She pushed a hand across her face, rubbing at her eyes. She felt exhausted.

  “Give him a call, but maybe steer clear of the Starbucks for a bit, yeah?”

  Mir squinted at Weldon from behind her hand.

  “Is that your professional advice, as a career criminal?”

  “Absolutely,” he said with a solemn nod. “I gotta warn you, though, I charge an arm and a leg for my criminal consulting skills. It takes years of hard work to reach my level of criminal expertise.”

  “Ha-ha,” said Mir. Behind Weldon, a pair of joggers ran by, glancing at them curiously. Mir hoped she didn’t still look like she’d been crying.

  “Want to walk a bit?” said Weldon, waving his hand in the direction of the running path. “I get horrible muscle cramps if I don’t cool down properly after a run.”

  Mir hesitated. It was close to 5:00 p.m. already. Her work shift normally ended at five, and her mom was expecting her home soon after that. Sunday nights were casual, Stella throwing together a dinner of leftovers or sometimes making a batch of pancakes. She would wonder where Mir was if she didn’t show up soon.

  “Maybe for a few minutes. Can we walk toward my house? My parents are expecting me home pretty soon.”

  “You’re honest and you defend people’s lives armed only with a garden hose and you worry about being home when you told your parents you would be,” said Weldon, falling into step with Mir. “You are literally the coolest person I’ve ever met, Miriam Kendrick.”

  “Stop making fun of me, Weldon Warrick,” said Mir, smiling.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Weldon walked beside Miriam. It felt good to look to his right and see her profile against the blue of the slow-moving river by the park. He listened to her talk, their conversation rolling forward easily. They went in the opposite direction from the waterfront, toward the back of the park. The road that led away from the park was rougher than the waterfront road, the houses lining it a little more run-down. Mir walked at a leisurely pace, slower than Weldon was used to, and he paced his steps to keep in time with her.

  “I know, I’m a slow walker,” Mir said, glancing down at Weldon’s deliberate steps. “I can’t help it. It’s genetic; I have my mom’s short legs.”

  “I come from a family of giants,” Weldon said. “I’m the shortest of all of them, actually.”

  Mir eyed him.

  “You’re pretty tall.”

  “My dad’s six two. My mom swears she’s five ten, but she’s probably six foot one. I’m the one everyone looks down on. A towering five eleven.”

  “Why doesn’t your mom want to be six feet tall?”

  “I dunno,” Weldon said, raising a hand to brush at a low-hanging branch. Trees lined the road, jutting haphazardly out of front yards. “She used to be an actress, and she has all kinds of … weirdness … because of that.”

  “An actress?” Mir said, glancing curiously at Weldon. “Is she famous? Would I know her?”

  “Maybe,” said Weldon. “She made a lot of science fiction and fantasy movies in the eighties and nineties. And she was a recurring villain on that one … space show. Not Star Trek. One of the other ones.”

  “Stargate?”

  “No, another one—”

  “Battlestar Galactica?”

  “No.”

  “Babylon 5?”

  “Nope. Wow, I feel awful. I can’t remember the name. I kind of liked that show too. Anyway, she was an evil android.”

  “Farscape.”

  “Noooo,” said Weldon, shaking his head, half in disbelief over his own ignorance. “How do you know so many science fiction shows?”

  “I named, like, four. That’s hardly ‘many.’ You’re the one who can’t remember his mother’s TV show.”

  Weldon laughed.

  “I am the worst son,” he said.

  “I hope this isn’t mean, but actors scare me,” Mir said, pulling the neck of her work shirt up to her chin. She looked kind of like an embarrassed turtle retreating into its shell.

  “Because they tend to be ridiculously attractive and put together? They’re like next-level human beings, which can be scary. I get that.”

  “No,” Mir said, glancing over at Weldon. She was smiling, but there was a slight crease between her eyebrows that made Weldon think she might be worried about offending him. “They can do all these different accents, they can put on wigs and makeup and look like a completely different person. Don’t tell me you don’t find that scary? Actors can pretend to be anyone.”

  “That is literally the most insane theory about actors I’ve ever heard,” Weldon said, grinning. “They’re just people.”

  “How do you know?” Miriam said, waving her hands dramatically at him. “They could be … acting!”

  “My mom only acts when she’s at work,” Weldon said. “She’s herself when she’s at home.” Weldon thought of his mother’s icy anger, and wished she’d maybe tried acting at home. She’d once played the captain of a misfit starship crew, marooned on a space mining rig overrun by alien monsters. He’d liked that character. She’d never refused to talk to her crew for days.

  They reached a road that Weldon recognized. His uncle had barreled down this road when dropping Weldon off for dinner, heedless of the large potholes in the pavement. Miriam pointed in the direction of her house.

  “This is my stop. Thanks for walking me home.”

  “No problem,” Weldon said, disappointed the walk hadn’t been longer. He wanted to hear more about her theories on actors.

  “I’m sure I’ll see you around,” Mir said. “It’s like someone wants us to run into each other.”

  “It’s a really small town,” Weldon said, smiling.

  “Even in a small town there are some people I never bump into. But I guess we’re magnetized or something, just naturally �
�� uh…” Miriam paused, her gaze ducking from his, and he realized she was about to say “attracted to each other.” Weldon fought the urge to grin at her.

  “I guess I’ll see you, then,” he said, and extended a formal hand toward Mir. She nodded and took his hand, shaking it firmly. She had a good grip.

  Weldon walked toward downtown, intent on not looking back at Miriam. He passed a house and glanced up at its darkened windows, hoping he could catch a glimpse of her in the reflection. The windows were angled the wrong way, throwing back a reflection of the house across the street. Weldon sighed and quickened his pace, deciding to jog the rest of the way home.

  Twenty minutes later he cruised into his aunt and uncle’s yard, feeling euphoric. He rushed through his cool-down stretches, finally walking a lazy circle around the front yard, hands on his hips, head tipped back so he could stare at the sky. It was gray and grouchy-looking, very different from the blue sky of Los Angeles.

  Weldon heard the front door slam and looked in the direction of the house. His aunt was walking down the front steps, a red purse swinging from her arm. She smiled when she saw Weldon.

  “How was your run?”

  “Good,” said Weldon. I saw Miriam Kendrick again, he thought. I think we’re going to be friends. A warmth spread across his chest at the thought.

  “Your dad called.” A bucket of ice water doused the warmth in Weldon’s body. He forced himself to keep pacing around the yard.

  “He did?”

  “He wanted to check in with us, see how you were doing. Get the inside story, apparently. I said you were fine, and you were doing your homework and staying out of trouble.”

  “Thanks,” said Weldon, grateful. His aunt nodded, walking gingerly across the neatly trimmed lawn.

  “I remember what it’s like to be a teenager, Weldon,” she said, still smiling. “You don’t need me playing referee between you and your parents.”