A Tragic Heart

by S. Elle Cameron

  Keely distracts me from my thoughts by tugging on my belt buckle.

  “Come on. Let’s finish,” she says. Then she kisses me.

  I can’t. Not after seeing Taylor. “I can’t. It’s almost five, and I have to go somewhere soon,” I say, trying to avoid eye contact.

  “Well, we’ll make it quick.”

  “No. I can’t be late. I’ll just see you tomorrow,” I say, putting my shirt back on.

  “Fine. Later then, I guess,” Keely says, opening my front door and walking out.

  I lock the door behind her and sit on the couch for a while. I can’t get over the look on Taylor’s face. But I guess it hurts to do the right thing sometimes. Like the old saying goes, “Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind.” Whoever came up with that line forgot to mention how much it might hurt.

  Taylor

  I’m still angry when I get home—with Peyton, Keely, and most of all, myself. How could I be so stupid as to believe that everything was going to work out fine and that things have finally turned around for the better? I know better than that. I know how life is. That’s why I’m blaming myself. When I came home, I noticed that Mason left his cell phone on the dresser in our bedroom. I know he can’t live without his phone, so I decide to take it to him at his job.

  The drive there is easy and it helps calm me down a lot. I go into the building and take the elevator up to the floor where he usually works. As the elevator doors slide open, I see Mason’s mom.

  “Oh, hi Taylor. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine,” I say with a smile. “I’m just here to give Mason his phone. He left it at the apartment, and I know how he is about it.”

  “Well, that’s very sweet of you, but did you forget? Mason’s not in today. In fact, I told him to take the entire week off. He just seemed so tired lately. Didn’t he tell you?”

  I didn’t know how to feel. Mason told me he’s been working all week, and I believed him.

  “Oh yeah, he did! I’m sorry—I just forgot. It’s just that he’s usually always here and he went out for a while. He’s most likely with Jagger or Peyton. He just didn’t tell me where he was going. Sorry,” I say, hoping she’ll believe the cover-up.

  She laughs a little and tells me it’s okay and I just need some rest. We hug, and then I leave the building with a million thoughts competing in my head. First Peyton and now Mason. This is all too much to deal with at one time.

  I arrive home half angry, half heartbroken. I can’t cry and I don’t even have the strength to lift up a razor or a knife to cut; so I just sit still. I’m still for at least an hour before Mason comes home.

  “Hey, babe,” he says as he walks into the living room.

  “How was work?” I ask dryly.

  “It was okay; same old, same old.”

  “Oh, so nothing new happened?” I want him to choke.

  “Nope.” He kisses me on the cheek before walking into the bedroom.

  Does he really think I’m that stupid? Well, apparently I am. Who knows what else he’s been lying to me about? And then it hits me: Christmas is coming, and after the “unforgettable” surprise on my birthday, it’s clear that Mason is capable of planning huge surprises before special occasions. He lied to me on my birthday just so I couldn’t figure out that it would turn out to be our wedding night. I’m sure that’s what it is. I hope that’s what it is.

  ***

  Christmas was two days ago and today is Peyton’s birthday. I was right; Mason did surprise me on Christmas. He was out making plans for our trip to Australia in February. He knew that is one of the things on my list to do before I die. I wake up a little sad today because I want more than anything to call Peyton and wish him a happy birthday. But I guess he has Keely for that one. At school, he pretends I don’t exist. It’s as if he never knew me. I can’t even read what is going on in his head anymore.

  Today, I decide, things will change. I am going to do something that I should’ve done a long time ago.

  “Hello?”

  “H-hey…it’s me…” I say nervously into the phone.

  “Taylor?”

  “Y-yeah, it’s me. I’m sorry,” I say.

  “Why now?”

  “Because I’ve realized that I made a horrible mistake and I’ve wanted to say this for so long. I’ve missed you, Jackson.”

  “Taylor, I have to go. I can’t talk now. Maybe later,” Jackson says.

  “O—”

  He hangs up before I can even say okay.

  I messed up. I should have listened to Peyton when he told me to call. Now, even Jackson hates me. I’m ruining my life and everyone around me is leaving. Someone always leaves. He even called me Taylor. Jackson never calls me Taylor unless he’s upset with me or he’s being very serious. I’m now a stranger to my brother. The one who was always there for me, the one whom I considered to be my other half before Mason or Peyton even entered my life. My original savior was gone, and so was my angel.

  Night falls. Mason has been gone for over two hours now. He seemed a little upset about something, but I didn’t want to ask because I had my own problems to deal with. I know it may sound selfish, but I can’t handle anyone else’s problems but mine for now. I used to have Jackson and Peyton to help me. I never had to do it all by myself. I never thought I would have to do it all by myself. I always thought I would at least have Jackson. I guess I have never truly been alone until now.

  I realize I’m the only one who isn’t doing anything tonight. Peyton has his party that I thought up but wasn’t invited to, and Mason probably went to a movie or somewhere he can have “alone time.” I’m tired of doing nothing. I’m going to crash Peyton’s party. It was my idea anyway, so I have every right to go, right?

  I pull up to the house and hear loud music. I watch people vomiting from too much alcohol consumption and other people making out. There are some eye-catching outfits, but mostly just girls looking for an excuse to be even more slutty than they already are. I was looking for Peyton when I heard some girl obviously speaking to a guy.

  “It’s yours! I haven’t been with anyone but you within the past few months!” I hear the girl say.

  Haven’t these people ever heard of contraception?

  “Don’t try to deny it. We’ve been through this before, and I’m keeping it. You just have to tell her!”

  So he’s already taken. High school girls—they’re so stupid. The guy is even worse for doing it to himself in the first place. I’m about to move along when I hear: “Mason, you tell her or I will!”

  It can’t be. It isn’t my Mason. There are plenty of other Masons around, aren’t there?

  “Fine, I’ll tell her. Just give me some time.”

  It is he. It is my Mason, except he isn’t only my Mason. My dad was right. I married a boy who didn’t give a damn about me. I can’t hold it in any longer. I forget I’m looking for Peyton. I turn the corner and as soon as I see Mason, I slap him in the face. It’s my woman’s instinct unveiling its ugly face. “You son-of-a bitch! I fucking hate you!” I scream, pushing him up against the wall.

  I’m ready to fight him, one on one. I don’t care if he’s bigger and stronger than I am. I want a fight. It’s the only way to relieve this anger growing inside of me.

  “Taylor, calm down, let me—”

  “Don’t you dare say, ‘Let me explain,’ you fucking liar!”

  By this time, everyone is staring. More so than the time Peyton yelled at me in the diner.

  “You promised! You said you loved me, and I believed you. You promised, Mason! You asked me to marry you. You promised…” I burst into tears.

  I don’t care who hears or sees—which is everyone.

  “Taylor—” he says, with an apologetic look on his face.

  I just turn around and walk away.

  “So she loses both of her men. Looks like someone fell off of her high horse, huh?”

  Keely. I don’t say anything; I just punch her. It’s eno
ugh for her head to make friends with the wall and for blood to trickle down her nose. I think that’s all she needs to get the point because she doesn’t say anything else after that. I see Peyton. There are words in his eyes, but I don’t stay long enough to read them.

  I make it back to the apartment, and there’s only one thing I want to do. I rush into the kitchen and pick out the perfect knife. This is it. I know what I wanted out of life. I have no Jackson, no Mason, and no Peyton. First, I take out my laptop to do something I haven’t done in months. I write a new journal entry.

  December 27, 2008

  What exactly is resentment? Is it when you can’t forgive someone, or is it when you can’t forget? Or maybe it’s a little bit of both. Resentment is something I am full of and have been for a while. Can someone who has been full of resentment for years finally drop that feeling? If so, what exactly would it take? As a person who knows the feeling of resentment very well, I know that it’s something very hard to overcome—possibly even harder than overcoming loneliness.

  You see, the difference between loneliness and resentment is that once that special person comes along, your loneliness is cured. But to overcome resentment, a person has to prove they’re truly sorry and didn’t mean to do what took place before that feeling came. Sometimes, even proof isn’t enough. A person may never be able to trust again or feel for anyone or anything again, once resentment has found its way into that person’s heart.

  Once again, is resentment when you can’t forgive someone, or is it when you can’t forget? I truly believe one can’t forgive if she can’t forget. Once a memory is installed into someone’s mind, it’s there forever. You may not be able to change the past, but you will always remember it. I know what we are all supposed to do is forgive. We can’t be forgiven unless we forgive. It may sound easy, but it’s actually one of the hardest things to do. Did you know the three hardest things to say are “help me,” “I love you,” and “I’M SORRY”?

  Well, in the past few months, I’ve said all three and here I am.

  I think one thing that helps to heal resentment is expression. If one expresses himself or herself, it won’t take resentment so long to go away, or it might actually prevent resentment. Well, I’m about to express myself in such a way that’s unforgettable. I don’t want another broken heart. I don’t want to have to cry myself to sleep every night like I used to. I don’t want to go back to being who I was before.

  Final good-bye,

  T.C.T.

  I go back into the kitchen, where I have everything set up. I print out the entry that I wrote and put it on the counter. I rest my left arm on the counter and pick up the knife with my right hand. I am ready. The final sacrifice. Mason doesn’t love me. Peyton doesn’t care about me. And Jackson is too angry with me. I put the knife to my wrist, close my eyes, and cut deep. I want the pain to bleed out and the anger to drip on the floor. I let a few tears fall and I don’t wipe them because they are purifying my soul. I start getting weak; and I forget all about today.

  Mason

  I love her. I do. It was all a mistake; a huge one that can’t be fixed. It was one time, then two, and then three, and then it became a habit. I have to get home to her; I’m just hoping she’s there. I’m speeding to the apartment; I have to talk to her. God, how could I be so stupid? I want to spend the rest of my life with her and I want her to know that. I hate myself for this. She was so good to me. She trusted me. She needed me. And I shot her down. I try calling her while I’m driving, but there’s no answer. I expect that, since she’s probably too upset to speak to me. I embarrassed her and I allowed Judas’s spirit to attain me while I betrayed her.

  I finally make it to the apartment, which seemed to take longer than usual even though I was going seventy on local streets. I open the door and call her name. No answer. I check the bedroom, the living room, and then the bathroom. I even check the guest room. No sign of her. Her things are still here, in order, like they always are. I call her cell phone and I hear it ring. She’s still here! I follow the sound into the kitchen, and that’s when I see it: the worst site anyone can see. I freeze for a second and then I drop to my knees. The floor is her blood’s canvas. I hold her and try to check her pulse, but I’m too upset to find it. I start shaking and my mind goes blank. I quickly dialed 911 and tell them the emergency. They’re asking too many questions, so I begin yelling. They tell me someone will be here shortly and to just hold on. Hold on? They shouldn’t be telling me those words, they should be here telling Taylor to hold on. I call Peyton. He deserves to know.

  “Hello?”

  There’s still noise from the party going on.

  “Peyton, I need you!” I shout.

  “Mason? What’s wrong?”

  “You have to come to my place now! Tell Jagger to take care of the party!” I say, still yelling.

  “Mason, what—”

  “It’s Taylor…she may be dead.”

  Peyton

  My heart disintegrates into nothing. I don’t think I’m hearing right, but Mason makes himself so clear. Taylor may be dead, and it’s all my fault. If I’d just been there for her, this would not have happened.

  “Wait, what?” I ask Mason in disbelief.

  “There’s a lot of blood, and she’s starting to get cold. She slit her wrist, and I can’t do anything about it. Peyton, I can’t fix this. This is entirely my fault, and I can’t help her! She’s my wife, and I can’t help!” He’s yelling and talking really fast.

  I’ve never heard Mason this upset before. I’m on my way out the door as he talks. I have to be there for him—for her. “Mason, I know this is hard for you, but try to stay calm. I’m on my way now!” I say really loudly into the phone.

  Stay calm. I can’t even tell myself that right now. Taylor, why? Why would you do something so stupid? She has more to live for than just Mason and me. She’s talented and smart and funny. And I’m incredibly stupid! I thought her being away from me was the best thing, but I know that I’m part of the reason she did this. I saw the way she looked at me when she was leaving the party. I wanted to go after her then, but I didn’t want to get too close. Besides, her last words to me were, “Go to hell Peyton.” And maybe I should…

  I get to Mason’s only to see the ambulance taking her away on a stretcher with an oxygen mask over her face. That means she’s not dead. Thank God. I see Mason speaking to a police officer. There are people all around him, staring, trying to figure out what happened. I go up to Mason as fast as I can. I know he needs me right now the way I needed him the day my mom died. I wait until the police officer finishes his job before I speak to Mason.

  “Is she going to be okay?” I ask with a great deal of concern.

  “They said she’ll live. She didn’t cut a main artery or vein, but it may be a while before she wakes up, since she lost a lot of blood. She needs a blood transfusion. This is my fault.”

  I see the hurt in his eyes and hear the pain in his voice.

  “Mason, this is not your fault. I’ll drive you to the hospital, if you like,” I say, trying to be caring.

  “Yeah, that’ll be good. Thanks, Peyton,” he says in a tired voice.

  ***

  We arrived at the hospital along with the ambulance. I can still see the worry in Mason’s eyes. He loves her, and I feel guilty. He stays with her every step of the way. He walks by her side until they tell him he can’t go any further. He loves her, but he made a mistake.

  “It’s going to be okay, Mason,” I tell him, still trying to convince myself.

  Mason walks outside and sits on a bench in front of the hospital. I follow him.

  “Do you have a cigarette?” he asks in a lifeless tone.

  I hand him one with my lighter without saying a word. After about five minutes of silence, I speak. “You know, you can cry, if you want.”

  “It won’t solve anything,” he says in the same lifeless tone, exhaling the smoke from his cigarette.

  “But it may make you f
eel better.” I pause for a while. “I’ll cry with you, if you want.”

  He smiles a little and looks at me. “Thanks, Peyton. I really do appreciate it.”

  And I felt even guiltier.

  “She left a note, a suicide letter, I guess.” Mason hands me the letter.

  It looks like one of the journal entries that she used to let me read. I read it and all I can do is look down at the ground in silence. I brought the feeling of resentment back into her life. The very thing I worked so hard to strip away from her, I handed to her on a silver platter.

  Mason

  After waiting for a while outside, Peyton and I decide to go back into the hospital to see if there is any update. The doctors say she’s pretty much stabilized, but she hasn’t awakened. They say her body is probably still in shock. I know mine is. As I sit next to Peyton, I begin to notice people and their families waiting around and I realize that I never called Taylor’s parents—or mine, for that matter.

  “Peyton, I’ll be back. I have to make a few phone calls. I have to call Taylor’s parents and mine, also.”

  “Okay, I’ll come get you if anything changes.”

  This is the Peyton I knew. The compassionate, helpful, and dependable Peyton. I don’t know who the other guy was a few weeks ago.

  I decide to call Taylor’s parents first. Even though they aren’t active in her life at the moment, I feel it’s only appropriate to tell them first.

  “Hello,” a tired voice answers.

  “Hi, is this Mrs. Caldwell?” I ask politely.

  “Yes, who is this?”

  They don’t even know the voice of their own son-in-law.

  “It’s Mason—Taylor’s husband.” I shudder at the phrase, only because of what I did to her.

  “What do you want at this time in the morning?” she asks, a bit annoyed.

  “It’s about Taylor—”

  “Taylor is of none of our concern anymore. You’re her husband; you take care of it.”

  Taylor says her parents never cared about her, but I didn’t know they could be this harsh. I mean, she’s their daughter; Mrs. Caldwell could at least pretend to be a little bit concerned. I know I would if I got a call about my daughter at three fifteen in the morning.