A Tragic Heart

by S. Elle Cameron

  Mason

  Lauren is crying when I walk into her room. I never had any romantic feelings toward her, but I do feel terrible about what she’s had to go through. I also have to admit to myself that I’m hurt by her miscarriage. It was my child she was carrying, and in all honesty, after Taylor left I began embracing the idea of becoming a father. I walk over to her and take her hand. She just looks at me and begins crying even harder. I am at a loss for words.

  “It was a boy…we were going to have a little boy,” she says, gripping my hand tighter.

  “Lauren…I’m sorry…I really am,” I say to her, seeing at how broken she is.

  “It’s my fault. I should be the one who’s sorry. I dropped something behind the chest in my room and when I tried to move it, it fell on me. I didn’t care how hurt I was; I just cared about my baby. I felt myself bleeding out and I screamed. My dad came in. He saved me, but he couldn’t save my baby—our baby, Mason.”

  “We…we can try again if you want.” I didn’t think; it just came out. She pauses for a moment and then looks at me. “No, let’s just forget this entire thing ever happened. We don’t even have to speak again. I don’t think we should ever speak again, Mason. You never liked me, but I loved you from the first time I saw you. A friendship or any kind of relationship wouldn’t be good for us. After I get out of here, we should act like we don’t even know each other,” she says with all of the sadness in the world.

  “That’ll be impossible. We’ve shared too much to pretend we don’t know each other.” I’m reacting as if I don’t want to lose her.

  “I know that, but we should just put it all behind us. It’s better for you and it’s better for me. Let’s not make this any more difficult than it has to be—please, Mason?”

  I know she’s right. We were all wrong for each other, but I don’t want to lose another person in my life. Lately, that has been the story of my life. People come and go.

  “You’re right,” I say. “We should just end it here…but…it wasn’t all bad.”

  “I’m glad I could be an experience for you, Mason Taylor,” she says, smiling through her tears.

  I walk out of that room reminding myself that I just lost another person. People are leaving me as if I am some kind of tragedy that will just ruin everything. Maybe I am. I storm past my family and walk straight out of the hospital. I pull out a cigarette and a lighter. I need one right now.

  ***

  “Are you okay?” I hear a voice ask from behind me.

  I ignore the question.

  “Mason, you’re going to have to speak to me sooner or later. You can’t hold this grudge forever,” he continues.

  “I keep losing everyone I know. Everyone runs away from me like I’m just this horrible person. Am I a horrible person?” I ask, finally caving in.

  He is quiet for a while. Then he answers, “No, you’re not horrible at all. You’re actually a great person. You just don’t get the chance to show it much. But when you do, it’s pretty amazing to watch,” he says in an admiring tone.

  “My life is a waste,” I state, depression overtaking me.

  “No it isn’t. You have so much to look forward to. You just don’t know it yet. You’re going to be something memorable someday, and I hope I’m here to see it. And not everyone ran away from you. You pushed some people away—just not far enough, because we’re still here whenever you’re ready to let us back in.”

  “Well, I’m not ready just yet, Peyton,” I say. Our shoulders brush as I walk past him.

  As soon as I go back into the hospital, I bump into Taylor. Today just isn’t my day.

  “I’m sorry, Mason, I should’ve watched where I was going,” she says.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Mason!” she calls.

  I stop walking. Something about the sound of her voice still controls my actions. I still love her and I can’t deny that. I will always love her. That’s what tears me up inside.

  “Yes, Taylor?” I ask, aware that I sound annoyed.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” she says sincerely.

  “Which one?” I ask.

  “All of them,” she says, now looking into my eyes the way she used to when we loved each other.

  “You know, that child was going to be the only person I would’ve had in my life who had no choice but to stay with me. I looked forward to that. But apparently I was meant to be alone.” I didn’t know where all of these confessions were coming from, but I was beginning to break.

  “You weren’t meant to be alone, Mason. If you would just let me in—let Peyton in—you wouldn’t feel so alone. I know things may not go back to the way they were, but that doesn’t mean we all can’t be friends again,” she says, touching my arm.

  Her touch is so gentle and soft. My soul melts every time she puts her hands on me. “Taylor, I love you. And you love Peyton. And Peyton loves you. Being friends isn’t an option. Being friends would only make things messier, and I don’t have the strength to clean up anymore disasters.”

  “We won’t know until we try, Mason,” she says, still looking me in the eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Taylor.”

  “Mason, can I at least go in to see Lauren? I would like to pay my respects to her,” she says, being the kind and loving person she is.

  “I don’t see why not,” I respond.

  She doesn’t say anything else. She just gives me a hug—a hug that warms my heart and sets my soul on fire. I love her, but that isn’t enough to bring her back. I know I’m going to have to get over it sooner or later, but it’s just too painful to accept right now.

  Taylor

  I walk into Lauren’s room to find her staring out of the window lifelessly. This image reminds me of myself when I was in the very same hospital for attempting suicide. I honestly feel for her and I am willing to put our differences aside for now.

  “What do you want?” she angrily asks me.

  “Just to say that I’m sorry about what happened.”

  “Yeah, right! You probably prayed for this to happen,” she snaps, uncertain of my motives.

  “I would never pray for such a thing, Lauren. You and I may not get along, and we have our history, but I would never wish this on you or anyone else. I’m so sorry that this had to happen to you. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love,” I tell her, standing next to her bed.

  “Mason?” she asks.

  “No. Well, yeah, Mason was one person I loved and lost—but I was talking about a family member. He died when we both were young, and I haven’t been the same since. You won’t be the same ever again after this incident, but that’s not always a bad thing. Sometimes unfortunate situations like these shape us to be better people. I know this is not what you want to hear right now, but I just wanted to tell you the truth. And that I’m really, really sorry.” I’m holding her hand, and she begins to cry.

  “I broke up your marriage! You should hate me!” she cries.

  “Well, I don’t. And you didn’t break up my marriage. Mason and I did that all on our own. You’re not the one to blame here. Trust me; you don’t want to have to live with that guilt. So don’t go on thinking that you broke up our marriage.” I see how hurt she is. My heart goes warm.

  “Thanks, Taylor,” she says in a low voice, reaching for a hug.

  I hug her for a while, thinking about how I never imagined hugging Lauren out of generosity. We talk for a few more minutes and we even laugh. She actually isn’t so bad, now that I’m getting to know her. She’s just a little messy on the outside. But aren’t we all?

  Taylor

  The next few months are great. Since the incident with Lauren, she and I have been speaking every once in a while. Sadly, neither Peyton nor I have spoken to Mason since the day at the hospital, though. June came quickly, and we are all officially high school graduates. I can’t believe how fast time has flown by. On graduation night, Peyton went to New York with his band. They recorded a demo while they were there and now the
y’re in talks with a few major labels. They’ve been playing a lot of shows and they’ve even opened for Down Under a few times. Speaking of Down Under, Jackson finally achieved the platinum record he’s always dreamed of. On top of that, both of his singles have been certified “multi-platinum” around the world.

  It’s weird to turn on my TV and see Jackson and his band on my screen. I’m happy for Peyton, but I have to admit that it does get pretty lonely here without him. Peyton decided to skip college to focus on his dream, and I decided to stay here in Arizona for college and to focus on my writing. Peyton kept his promise about teaching me piano and guitar, and I’ve been writing music nonstop. I heard that Mason decided to stay in Arizona for college too. I just hope he’s finally happy.

  I’m in the middle of writing my second novel when the house phone rings. I look at the time and know it is Peyton. He calls every night at eight sharp.

  “Hey, future husband!” I answer the phone.

  “Hmmm…I really like the sound of that,” he says in his sexy voice.

  “You do, huh?” I ask, flirting back.

  “Uh-huh. By the way, when do you want to make me your official husband?”

  “Whenever your schedule clears up and you’re back in Arizona for a while.”

  “Sorry, babe. I don’t know when that’s going be. But I hope it’s soon, because I can’t take knowing that you’re not my wife yet.”

  “Yeah, I hate the thought of it too. So how’s New York treating you?”

  “Baby, you ask me that every night. But tonight, for some reason, New York is a lot like Arizona,” he says.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Well, it’s hot and it just feels a lot like home. Oh yeah, and you’re here,” he says.

  “I’m there?” I say, completely puzzled until I hear the front door open. I stand up and see Peyton walk through the door.

  I jump into his arms, wrap my legs around him, and kiss him as if I haven’t seen him in years, when in reality it’s only been a month.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Well, I don’t have long to be here, but I wouldn’t miss your eighteenth birthday for the world,” he says, kissing me on the lips gently.

  I miss his soft lips and his gentle, rough hands.

  “Well, since there isn’t much time, we should get busy,” I suggest.

  “Busy doing what?” he asks, looking at me with his eyebrows raised.

  “Oh, I think you know,” I say, kissing him again.

  “I love you so much,” he tells me, his strong body still holding me up.

  “I love you too. Now shut up and carry me to the bedroom,” I demand.

  Peyton really knows how to make a girl smile. I can’t wait to officially make him my husband.

  ***

  We’re lying in bed together. It seems like an eternity since we’ve last done this. I love how much Peyton shows me that he loves me. Sometimes I feel as if it’s too much and I can’t repay him. He tells me he’s just repaying me for staying by his side and loving him the way that I do. Whatever his reason, I love it.

  “So how long are you here for?” I ask, not really wanting to know the answer to that question.

  “Well, we only have a few days to be in Arizona and then we leave,” he says.

  “We? The rest of your band is here also?”

  “No. I was talking about you and me.”

  “Me and you? Peyton where are we going?” I ask. What type of trick is Peyton pulling now?

  “Well, remember when I told you that I was born in Australia, and my mom had a house there that’s now legally mine?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Since I knew you loved Australia, I got us a trip to stay there for two weeks. I wanted to do something nice with you before you start school and my schedule gets really hectic.”

  “Peyton, you always outdo yourself, and I don’t know how you do it,” I say, looking him in the eyes.

  “Yeah, well, don’t try to figure it out. You may hurt yourself. Just leave it at I’m just that amazing,” he says, joking.

  “If you say so…”

  I let him have his moment and then kiss him passionately, once again. It’s impossible for me to get enough of him; I always want more. I want him to drench my soul with his love; and even though he constantly does just that, it still isn’t enough.

  ***

  I wake up to Peyton walking into our room with a tray of food in his hands. He’s playing the role of the perfect boyfriend again and decided to make me breakfast in bed. I can only smile at him and think about how perfect he is.

  “Happy birthday, old lady,” he says, setting the tray down in front of me and kissing me on the cheek.

  “Thank you, young man,” I say, still smiling from the warm feeling that Peyton always elicits in me. “So what are we going to do today? Buy my first pack of cigarettes so I can finally smoke?” I joke, taking a bite out of the pancakes he made.

  “No, you’re not allowed to smoke!” he scolds, as if I’m his daughter.

  “You do…sometimes,” I say before taking a sip of the freshly squeezed orange juice Peyton put extra effort into making.

  “If I jump off of a bridge, you’d do that too?” he shoots back sarcastically.

  “Honestly…yes, I would. I’d want to do whatever you want to do,” I say, stuffing my mouth with food.

  Peyton just laughs at my terrible eating habits and my ridiculous comment.

  “You are so unladylike sometimes. But I think that’s why I love you,” he says, staring at me lovingly.

  “You think?” I ask, mouth full of food.

  “Okay. I know. Hold on—let me get that for you.” He picks up a napkin and wipes the side of my mouth with it.

  “Thank you. And for the record, your breakfast skills are freaking awesome!” I say, still eating.

  “Tell me about it. I guess my backup plan should be to go to culinary school,” he says, bragging about himself.

  “Don’t flatter yourself too much. But yeah, I think you’d be an excellent chef—and a sexy one, at that. I’d totally do you in your kitchen!”

  “Hmmm, if that’s the case, I think I may just open up my own restaurant.” He leans in for a kiss.

  I willingly give him one, since he more than deserves it.

  “So what are we doing today for my birthday?” I ask him.

  “Well, I thought since you’re now officially an old lady, we should take it slow. Maybe stay here and watch old episodes of The Twilight Zone,” Peyton teases, being a complete jerk.

  I just give him a dirty look and the infamous finger. I love how we’re able to joke with each other in the meanest ways, yet neither of us takes offense.

  “Just kidding, babe. This birthday is going to be all fun.” He takes a piece of paper out of his back pocket and unfolds it. “First, we’re going to go bungee jumping, and then we can go laser tagging. After that, we’ll race go-karts, and last, we’ll go paintballing,” he says, reading from the list.

  “Peyton, are those a few things from my bucket list?” I ask suspiciously.

  “Sure are!” he says proudly.

  “You went through my computer?” I ask him.

  “Yeah, I’m guilty of that. But we’re knocking off four things from your list in one day. And I can’t believe you never raced go-karts or played laser tag!” he says in disbelief.

  “I also never learned how to ride a bike. It’s not a big deal,” I respond.

  “That’s really sad, Taylor. What did you do as a child?” he asks curiously.

  “I learned the difference between great music and music for people who lack musical talent so they need an excuse to be in the industry. I wrote about my feelings—a lot—and I watched my parents ignore my presence. May sound tragic, but it wasn’t so bad,” I say, obviously trying to convince myself of my own statement.

  “Well, get up and get dressed so I can take you back a few years and we can be k
ids again,” he says, getting up and taking my tray away from me.

  Peyton shows me the kind of love that all of us pessimists think is a fantasy. He has a way of destroying my cynical mind and creating a new one for me. I can’t wait to marry this man. I know for sure I got it right this time.

  With that thought, I remember that today would have been Mason and my one-year wedding anniversary. I can’t believe we thought we would last forever. We didn’t even get passed one measly year. I guess it’s true that a lot can change in a year.

  I get up, go straight into the bathroom, and begin brushing my teeth. My mind wanders off to my imaginary perfect world, in which I have two parents who truly care for me and love me. It’s the place where Mason, Peyton, and I are all best friends and we don’t let anything get in between us. Jackson is always there for me, but he’s still living his dream; and Kristen and I actually have some type of relationship. It’s a world that doesn’t exist and probably never will, but it’s nice to dream about it.

  I step into the shower and continue dreaming about the world that doesn’t have any “wrong” in it; the world that will always remain far out of reach. I guess, in a way, we all want what we can’t reach. That thought makes me feel better because I’m not alone.

  I cut my dreams short and get out of the shower to get dressed and walk back into reality. I have to remind myself that reality isn’t so bad. I have Peyton and that is more than I could ask for. God decided to be extra giving and kept Jackson in my life. I have people who care about me, but for some reason, I’m being selfish. I wish I had more. But if I didn’t want more, I wouldn’t be human; we always want more because we’re never satisfied. It has been imprinted on our brain that more is better, when in fact, less is probably more than we need.

  It’s all becoming too confusing and I hate being confused, so I just stop thinking. I shut my mind off, blow-dry my hair, and get dressed. I don’t put on anything special since Peyton and I are planning to get messy.