Heartbreakers

by Ali Novak

  “That sounds like a good idea,” I told him.

  Paul gave me his number in case I had any questions, and we made plans to speak at the end of the week. After hanging up, I collapsed back into the couch.

  My head was spinning. I’d just been offered the opportunity of a lifetime, the type of job people killed for. An uncontrollable grin tugged at the corners of my mouth.

  “Stella, professional photographer,” I said. The words made me giggle, but saying them out loud made it feel real. Someone wanted to hire me as a photographer. Scratch that. Not just someone. The publicist for the Heartbreakers wanted to hire me. “Oh my God, I have to tell Cara!”

  Jumping up, I shoved my phone in my pocket. As I raced back down the hall I somehow felt taller, bigger, stronger—ready to take anything on. The feeling didn’t last long.

  When I reached the door to Cara’s room, I stopped. She had decorated it with pictures of the three of us. It was a collage of our childhood: Drew, Cara, and I in matching outfits as babies, the first day of kindergarten, standing outside Cinderella’s castle at Disney World, waiting at the bus stop in high school. The more I studied the pictures, the more I was overwhelmed with a sense of dread.

  I’d wanted an opportunity like this for so long, a chance to go off on my own, and this job was more than I could ever hope for. But instead of being ecstatic, I felt a slow, paralyzing coldness cascade from my head to my feet. I didn’t know why I suddenly felt so terrible, but I couldn’t let Cara see that I was upset. Before I could talk to her, I needed time to think about Paul’s offer.

  Using my sleeve, I wiped away the water building in my eyes before I opened the door. When I stepped inside, Cara was awake and sitting up in bed.

  “Hey,” she said. “Where’d you disappear to?”

  “The living room,” I said. “Mom called.” The smile I’d forced onto my face quivered, and I hoped Cara didn’t notice.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, her eyes narrowing as she squinted at me.

  “Yup,” I said in the most cheerful tone I could muster. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Because you’re lying to me.”

  “What? Am not!” I said quickly, but I could feel the color rising in my cheeks. “Why would I lie to you?”

  “Well, considering I just got off the phone with Mom, I know you weren’t talking to her,” Cara said, crossing her arms. “So I don’t know, Stella. You tell me.”

  Shit. There was a sudden ache in the back of my throat, and with each passing second, it grew harder and harder for me to swallow. What was I going to tell Cara now? There was no way she’d drop the subject. And once she found out what that was, I wouldn’t even be given a chance to consider my options. Cara would want—no, she’d demand that I take the job.

  “Cara,” I said, taking in a shaky breath. “Can you please just let it go? I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

  “Maybe if you’d just said that from the start, sure. But you lied to me, Stella. And the only logical explanation for why you’d do that is because you don’t want to tell me something,” she said, her nostrils flaring. Then in a much quieter tone she added, “What could possibly be so bad that you’re afraid to talk to me about it?”

  In that moment Cara sounded so dejected and lost that it felt like all the energy was suddenly wrenched from my body. I slumped into the armchair by her bed and gave in. “The Heartbreakers’ publicist called me today,” I said, staring down at my hands as I clasped them together in my lap. “He offered me a photography job working for the band.”

  At first Cara didn’t say anything, but then she exploded. “Shut up! Are you serious? That’s amazing, Stella. It’s like the perfect job for you and—” She stopped gushing. “Wait. You don’t look excited. Why don’t you look excited?”

  I didn’t have a plausible explanation. She was right; I should be over the moon. But when I let myself imagine how amazing it would be to go off with the band, to turn my passion into a potential career, there was a horrible feeling in my stomach, like it had frozen solid.

  And that’s when I realized why I didn’t want to tell Cara about the job—not because I needed time to think it through, but because I’d already made my decision. A long, low sigh whistled from my mouth, and my hands went limp. “Because,” I said finally, “I don’t think I’m going to accept.”

  Cara blinked. “Are you crazy?” she exclaimed seconds later, leaning away from me as if I’d said something unforgivable. “You love photography.”

  “I’d have to join the band on tour, and I can’t leave,” I said, shaking my head. It didn’t make sense, but there was a fluttering in my lungs, the level of my anxiety escalating the more I thought about leaving. “You’re in the middle of your treatment and—”

  “Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Cara said in a deadly voice. Her sudden mood change was startling, and I leaned away as she bared her teeth at me.

  “What?” I asked, my voice jumping up an octave. “Why are you mad?”

  “You’re making this about me.”

  “Of course not, Cara,” I said in an attempt to soothe her. “I’m just prioritizing, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Prioritizing?” she snapped. “Stella, you’re putting your entire life on hold.”

  “I think you’re being a little dramatic.”

  “Really?” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “If that’s the case, why’d you defer school?”

  I scoffed. “You didn’t actually expect me to leave when you’re sick again, did you?”

  “Drew is.”

  “That’s different and you know it,” I said, my eyes flicking up so I could glare at her. “He’ll only be an hour and a half away. I’d be in a completely different state where I would never get to see you guys.”

  Cara’s head dropped, and she closed her eyes as she took a moment to compose herself. Three long seconds passed before she looked back up at me. “Is that really so bad?” she asked, her voice a half whisper.

  My chest hitched. “Don’t—don’t you think so?” How could Cara be okay with me leaving?

  “No, I don’t,” Cara said. “News flash, Stella. We’re not always going to be together, and you need to stop acting like it. The thought of you passing up such an amazing opportunity because of me…” She shook her head. “There are no words.”

  “You have to understand. If I leave and something happens—”

  “Stop!” Cara finally shouted. “You’re not listening to me. Do whatever you want, but if you turn down this job and end up regretting it, that’s on you. I’m done being your excuse.”

  “Cara, please don’t be like this,” I said. I wanted to beg, to get down on my knees and will her to understand that I couldn’t do this. Not when just thinking about it made me feel so awful.

  “Can you just leave?” she said, looking away from me. “I want to be alone right now.”

  I stared at her, trying to understand how things had suddenly gone so wrong. “Yeah, sure,” I finally said, my voice cracking.

  Then I picked up the book I’d been reading and was gone.

  Chapter 10

  Nothing could drown out the sound of Cara’s voice, how it had been laden with anger, but the scream of Bionic Bone’s front man, Freddie K, blaring from my stereo came pretty close. Since our fight, I couldn’t stop thinking about what she said.

  “Stella!”

  There was movement at the edge of my peripherals, and I glanced up to see Drew. He was standing in the doorway of my bedroom, waving his hands to get my attention. He looked exasperated, and I wondered how long he had been standing there before I noticed him.

  “What?” I shouted over the music. Drew’s lips moved as he said something, but I couldn’t make out his words. “What?” I yelled again.

  Rolling his eyes, Dre
w stormed across my room and paused my iPod, cutting Freddie K off midshriek. “Why do you listen to that stuff?” he asked, grimacing as he twisted his finger in his ear.

  I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a year’s worth of old photos spread out on the carpet around me. When we moved to Rochester, I had dumped everything into boxes, and now I was sorting through the mess, organizing by date as a way to distract myself. “I find it calming,” I said, looking back down at my work. “How was orientation?”

  “It was fun. Took a tour of campus, figured out my schedule. That sort of stuff,” Drew said. “What about you? How was your day?”

  My back stiffened when he changed the subject to me. “It was fine.” I picked up another photograph and took a moment to examine it so he wouldn’t notice how uncomfortable I felt. “Nothing exciting. Ate lunch with Dad. Binged on Netflix.”

  “Stella,” Drew said. “I already spoke with Cara.”

  “Oh.” Setting the picture down on a stack of black-and-whites, I sighed. “And she told you everything?”

  Drew crossed his arms as he leaned against my dresser. “Pretty much.”

  “So you’re here to yell at me?” When I’d decided to defer from school, Drew had made his disapproval quite clear. He liked to remind me every time an opportunity presented itself, and I had a feeling this would be one of those occasions.

  “Why would I yell at you?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Because you think I’m being stupid?”

  “I don’t think you’re stupid, Rocket.”

  “But?” With my siblings, there was always a “but.”

  “This is what makes you happy,” he said, gesturing at the collection of memories that blanketed the floor. “I’m struggling to understand why you would turn down a job where you can do what you love.”

  I didn’t have a response, at least not one he wanted to hear, so I lowered my gaze. “Being here with Cara is more important.”

  “No,” Drew said, and the force in his voice made me glance back up. He pushed away from the dresser and crouched down next to me. “I’m not saying Cara isn’t important, but forget about her for a second. Pretend she isn’t sick. Would you still turn down the job?”

  His question bore down on me, and I closed my eyes as if it would help me avoid answering. “Why does that even matter?”

  “Because you’re asking the wrong question.”

  “Yeah?” I said, my eyes snapping open. “And what question should I be asking, Drew?”

  “Ask yourself what you’re so afraid of.”

  His response shut me up, and I pressed my face into my hands as I shook my head. “How do you expect me to answer that?”

  “You should take the job,” he said. “Otherwise you’re never going to figure that out.” He squeezed my shoulder and then left me with my thoughts.

  • • •

  I looked at my alarm clock. “Ugh, come on,” I groaned.

  Grabbing my pillow, I fluffed it up and flipped onto my other side, trying to find a comfortable position in bed. It was past midnight and I was trying to sleep, but my mind wouldn’t slow down or allow me to drift off.

  Since our fight, I’d avoided Cara. I knocked on her bedroom in the morning to try to patch things up, but she refused to talk to me “unless,” she said, “you’re here to tell me you accepted Paul’s offer.” In fact, she was so mad that she threatened to never speak to me again unless I took the job. I hadn’t, but I hadn’t declined either. Regardless, she kicked me out.

  Three full days later, and I was no closer to knowing whether I should stay or go. All I needed to do was choose, and even though I’d never been an indecisive person, any attempt to make up my mind seemed futile. Decision-making had always been so straightforward for me: yes or no, black or white, Pepsi or Coke. Maybe that was because I was impulsive, jumping into things headfirst and listening to my heart. But what was I supposed to do when my heart wanted two conflicting things?

  Ask yourself what you’re so afraid of.

  Drew’s question kept swimming through my thoughts, and as hard as I tried to drown out his words, they refused to sink, instead choosing to tread the turbulent surface of my mind with fierce determination.

  “Dammit!” I said and threw off my covers when I realized sleeping was pointless. As I climbed out of bed, I stepped on something sharp—probably a hair clip—and a colorful string of swear words erupted from my mouth.

  My room had fallen into neglect over the past three days, and I was sick of it. I flipped the light on, squinting as my eyes adjusted, and then started cleaning at random. My collection of post-hardcore CDs, which normally lived in a stack next to my stereo, was strewn across my desk. I had yanked them out while searching for Bionic Bones the other night. It took me a few minutes to order them the way I liked, all-time favorites to least, and then I moved on to my clothes. It looked like my dresser had vomited onto the floor. Not knowing what was dirty, I sniff-tested everything I picked up, folding some items and chucking others into the hamper.

  I worked in a heated sort of manner, tearing around my room like a Happy Meal wind-up toy that would lose steam at any moment. When I’d finally burned through my frustration, there was a slick layer of sweat on my forehead, but my room was restored to its normal organization.

  “Stella?” Drew pushed open my bedroom door, blinking as he adjusted to the light. He didn’t bother to cover his yawn. “What are you doing?”

  “Crap. Did I wake you?” I glanced at the clock again: 2:17 a.m.

  He nodded. “You were slamming drawers and stuff.”

  “Sorry. I went on a midnight, can’t-sleep-for-the-life-of-me cleaning spree.”

  “That’s chill. I thought maybe—” Drew stopped and lifted an eyebrow. “Stella, are you…packing?”

  “Packing?” I repeated with a frown. “No.” But then I looked at my bed and saw what Drew did.

  Five neat piles of clothes covered the basics: shirts, shorts, underwear, and so on; my camera bag was packed with all my equipment, camera resting beside it; a colorful collection of eye shadow and lipstick was inside my zebra-print makeup bag; and last was a Ziploc bag full of my favorite jewelry. All I needed now was a suitcase.

  “I-I…” I was more than speechless, so I just stood there feeling my heart slam repeatedly into my chest. How had I done all this without realizing?

  Drew noticed my sharp mood shift and took a step toward me. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said quickly and held up his hand. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I was just curious.”

  “It’s not okay,” I exclaimed and pointed at the stuff on my bed. “How can it be okay when I didn’t even realize I was doing that? My head is all over the place, Drew. The more I try to make up my mind, the more anxious I get, and I can literally feel my heart stressing itself out.”

  “I’m sorry,” Drew said and pulled me into his arms. “Just take a few deep breaths.”

  So I listened to him. In and out I breathed. The first few lungfuls were shaky, and it took me a few minutes to calm down, but with my head buried in Drew’s shoulder, I could hear the thump-thump of his heartbeat and I focused on that.

  Finally, I worked up the courage to mumble into his shirt: “How am I supposed to do this?”

  “Do what?” he asked and pulled away so he could see me.

  “Leave,” I said, my voice cracking. “Be on my own.”

  Drew tilted his head as he worked out what I meant, while I looked away. I’d missed a sock while cleaning. It was poking out from under my bed, and I concentrated on its crumpled form instead of my embarrassment. Drew probably thought I was being silly, because what eighteen-year-old was afraid of leaving home?

  “You know,” he said, sitting on the end of the bed and pulling me down next to him, “I’m nervous too.”

  I swallowed and turned back to him.
“Nervous?”

  “About going to college.”

  “You are?” What did Drew have to be nervous about? He would only be a quick drive away from home, and we would see him every weekend.

  “How could I not be?” he said. “I mean, what if I’m not smart enough, or my roommate is a weirdo? And what will happen if I don’t make any friends and miss home too much?”

  “So don’t go,” I said, even though I knew I was being ridiculous.

  Drew laughed. “I’m excited to leave,” he told me. “The nerves—that’s all part of the experience. You just gotta trust that the good will make up for the scary.”

  This made sense, but something still wasn’t sitting right with me. “I was excited when Paul first called me,” I admitted, “but then I thought about being away from you and Cara, and I panicked. It’s always been us, together.”

  Drew smiled. “The Three Musketeers.”

  “Exactly.”

  “It’ll still be the three of us,” Drew said, bumping his shoulder into mine. “Being in different places won’t change that.”

  “I know,” I said, staring blankly ahead of me.

  “Even if you were on the moon.” He held out his pinkie. “I promise.”

  Drew was right. The nerves I felt about leaving home were just that—nerves. Which would be manageable except for the awful, nagging feeling that I just couldn’t shake.

  It was like this: I’m standing on the shore looking out at the ocean. It’s all a bit familiar, maybe because I’m reminded of the coast in South Carolina. The sun’s beating down on me, and the more I start to sweat, the more I want to peel off my clothes and dive in. But there are all these signs posted along the beach warning swimmers of deadly rip currents. Sure, the water looks peaceful enough, but even though I can’t see the danger below the surface, it’s still lying in wait to sweep me away.

  That’s how I felt about accepting Paul’s job offer. I couldn’t put my finger on what was bothering me so much—it was a blind spot, the danger under the calm. But I knew it was there, and I was terrified of drowning in it. Then again, taking a photography job wasn’t comparable to swimming in treacherous waters. Doing something for myself wasn’t going to kill me.