Another Little Piece of My Heart

by Tracey Martin

  Trent Reznor overpowers April’s protest, and, for the moment anyway, that’s enough. It has to be. No music can drown out the stabbing pain in my gut or the way Jared’s words echo in my head. I need to find a way to do that on my own.

  Chapter Nine

  Some days should come with cautionary labels. You know, like “Surgeon General’s Warning: Getting out of bed may result in headaches, vomiting and homicide.”

  Milk and Honey is dead today. No one shops on Thursday, apparently. When Beth comes in, Ben has her clean the dairy and frozen-food cases. I stand around, yawning. Before I started working, I’d have thought slow days were good days. I’d have been wrong. Slow days are days that last forever.

  Beth starts cleaning the shelves by my register so we can talk. “You will never guess what happened to my friends last night.” She sprays Windex on the metal and it gets all over the candy bars, too.

  “Alien abduction?”

  “Ha. They went out for ice cream, and they saw Jared Steele. I’m so bummed! I almost went with them, but I’m trying to lose weight.” She lets out a frustrated scream. “I can’t believe he’s in New Hampshire.”

  Me neither. I don’t have the heart to tell Beth that Jared went through her checkout line last week and she completely failed to recognize him.

  She drones on, and I make encouraging noises because it’s either that or bang my head into something. And I like Beth. She has a sweet face, laughs at my dumb jokes, and wants to be a kindergarten teacher. How can anyone hate on a future kindergarten teacher?

  “I’m not a fan of his music,” I tell Beth. It’s becoming my fallback line. Something I can—sort of—truthfully say without lying about whether I know Jared. Of course, it’s not his music that I hate; it’s his lyrics. But the distinction is blurry enough.

  Beth giggles. “I don’t even care about his songs. I like them, but I like looking at him even more.” She fans herself. “Don’t tell me you don’t think he’s hot.”

  “Yeah, he’s hot.”

  Mouthwash, please. I need to gargle something after admitting that aloud.

  “Hot and single,” Beth says. “The best combination. Mmm.”

  Maybe not so single, judging by how he flirts with Hannah. But I won’t burst Beth’s celebrity-tinted bubble. Jared once told some reporter that he’s not interested in serious relationships at this stage of his life. I can only hope I ruined those for him as much as he ruined them for me.

  After my shift ends, I hoof it home with visions of grabbing some food and taking Jayna to this park I discovered a couple days ago. It’s a short walk from the beach house, and it sits on a bluff overlooking the ocean. Jayna and the breaking waves will calm me, and calm can’t come too soon. If I don’t relax, I’m liable to kill someone. Plus I have a new song to work on, and I need some solo practicing time if Stabbing Shakespeare is going to do this battle of the bands thing, which is looking promising at last. The only person I’m still waiting to hear from is Erica.

  So it just figures then that the house is in chaos when I get home. Aunt Anita must have gotten a late start on dinner because my family’s only sitting down now, which means I’m expected to be sociable and eat with them.

  I kick off my sneakers and shuffle into the dining room.

  “Claire!” Hannah throws her arms around me. “You’ll never guess what happened.”

  I’m having déjà vu. “Alien abduction?”

  “Jared—” oh hell, déjà vu it is “—asked me to go to a concert with him on Saturday.” Hannah finishes out of breath and drops to her chair.

  My brain needs to repeat the information for it to sink in. For a second, I can’t move, can’t speak, can’t think. I expected something like this would happen, and yet I didn’t expect to feel this dull emptiness in me when it did.

  Two memories spring to mind.

  The first is when my mom talked to me and April about her decision to go off chemo—the day she’d passed her bracelets on to us. The doctors said the treatment wasn’t working anymore, and she was tired of always feeling sick. She decided to let the cancer take its course and enjoy the time she had left. April cried, but I all I remember is sitting in numb silence. This acceptance was so unlike my mom, a woman who’d demand the sky not rain on her pool parties and who, I swear, tried to straighten my hair on a daily basis with sheer force of will. How could she accept that? Hair fell in my face, irritated my nose and I didn’t have the strength to scratch. My eyes dried out, burned and I didn’t even have the energy to blink. I was stuck in that moment, as if fighting to keep time from plowing callously forward, bringing the end closer.

  What I feel now isn’t as bad, but it’s a similar type of feeling.

  The second memory is of me in tenth grade, talking to Kristen about weekend plans. She mentions Lauren Cook’s sweet sixteen party, and it’s the first I’ve heard of it. I wasn’t great friends with Lauren, but neither was Kristen, and she got invited—and apparently so did all our other mutual friends—but not me. I’d been snubbed. I stood there in the hallway, wishing I’d dumped my Diet Coke all over Lauren’s new cashmere sweater at lunch. Wishing I’d told her what an ugly color it was instead of pretending to like it. Wishing that I wasn’t such a total loser that I had to convince my best friend it was okay to go to the party without me if she wanted, which was just freaking humiliating.

  My current feeling is a lot like that too, only worse.

  Combine the two scenarios, and you get an idea of what I mean. It’s the shock of hearing something you braced yourself for, and yet, as it turns out, weren’t prepared to deal with in any way. It’s the pain of isolation. And it’s the pressure of knowing that no matter how badly you want to beat something into a bloody pulp, you can’t.

  Except I’m not supposed to feel any of this. I’m supposed to be furious at Jared for running off and writing those lies about me. And after the other night, I’m supposed to hate him for his vindictive little comment. So let him date Hannah. Let him electrocute himself on his amps. I shouldn’t care.

  Obviously, though, something in me does. I mentally take that feeling and stuff it into the darkest, coldest recess of my soul. Just like I did with the betrayal and anger I felt after Jared made it big. All those emotions I didn’t want to burden my parents with remain there, eating away at me.

  These emotions can too.

  I tighten my grip around the chair I’m leaning on until my knuckles turn white.

  “That’s awesome,” I say at last, praying the silence didn’t go on too long, praying that nothing on my face or in my voice gives away what I’m feeling. “I take it you don’t mean his concert.”

  Hannah laughs. “No. Don’t be silly.”

  She starts to say something else, but my aunt, uncle, and dad choose that moment to enter the dining room. April follows, carrying the salad bowl. My aunt and uncle’s faces are grim.

  Hannah scowls at them and passes around the plate of chicken. “They don’t want me to go,” she says in a low voice.

  Of course my aunt and uncle hear her. They’re only a couple feet away.

  “It’s not that we don’t want you to go,” my aunt says. “I’m just not comfortable with it. We don’t know this boy, the concert’s in Boston and you’re only seventeen.”

  “I’ll be eighteen at the end of August,” Hannah says. She and I were born within a week of each other. When we were babies, my mom and Aunt Anita used to dress us in matching outfits. Until my dad sold the house, a photo of me and Hannah in identical red plaid Christmas dresses with velvet bows in our hair hung in the stairwell. I’m hoping it gets lost when we move into the condo. “I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about this.”

  I suspect it has something to do with Jared being a famous musician and all the baggage that entails, but I’m not taking sides. Two year
ago, I could have assured my aunt and uncle that Jared was totally trustworthy. But that trustworthy Jared was the one I went out with. I don’t know about this current Jared.

  April kicks me under the table, and I shrug. It’s got to be killing her to keep quiet right now. It’s sure killing me. I feel like I’m being ripped in two.

  My dad sets his wine glass down. “I don’t know, Anita. You should give your daughter more credit. She’s practically an adult.”

  I hold my breath, waiting for him to finish—to acknowledge that he’s met Jared and that he hates Jared, and for all the details to be exposed. But no.

  “I don’t see the harm,” my dad says. “It’s not like she’s still in high school.”

  I drop my fork in shock and it clatters against the plate. He’s okay with this? He’s encouraging this? After the lectures I sat through? The sneaking around I had to do? The pain I had to endure? My fingers tremble with suppressed rage when I try to pick up the fork, and I almost knock over my glass, too.

  I can’t say anything though. Not here. I should actually be thankful my dad hasn’t brought my name into this conversation, and my stomach is in knots, waiting for him to do so.

  I also don’t want to hurt Hannah. None of this is her fault. I think throwing herself at Jared like she’s been doing is ridiculous, but I’m well aware that she’s not the only girl who would do so if given the chance.

  Yet these rational thoughts don’t keep me from being an explosion waiting to happen. I want to rain Claire debris down all over my cousin and my father. I can no longer eat.

  “You see,” Hannah says. “Uncle Paul agrees.”

  “Paul, thank you.” Aunt Anita’s voice is stiff. “How you raised Claire is your decision, but I’m not comfortable with it.”

  April snorts soda out of her nose. This time it’s my turn to kick her.

  Nikki raises her wine glass. “He’ll have to return the tickets then, won’t he? Who’s playing?”

  I sense a self-serving purpose in her question, but I can’t bring myself to do more than glance in her direction. All my self-control is being used to keep me in my seat with my mouth shut. If I lose my focus, I’ll scream.

  “I don’t know.” Hannah pushes her plate away and crosses her arms. “His manager or a friend or someone got him the tickets. It’s some band I’ve never heard of.”

  “Who?” Lisa asks.

  “Vamp Dust or something? Who cares? It’s not about the concert, come on. Jared Steele asked me out. He has VIP tickets. Who cares where we go?”

  But I care about the concert, and now my rage at my father dissolves as more wounds open in my gut. I’d love to see Vamp Dust in concert. Jared introduced me to them, and they’re freaking awesome. Live, they’re supposed to be even better. But they’re basically unknowns in this country. I never thought they’d do a U.S. tour.

  Jared should have asked me. I’m the one who would appreciate the concert. Not Hannah. Me.

  As if he cared about that.

  “Never heard of them,” my uncle says.

  Finally I have to speak up, if only to defend the band. “They’re Australian, and they have this amazing lead singer. I can play some of their songs for you if you want.”

  “You’ve heard of them?” Hannah’s eyes open wide. A calculating smile creeps over her face, and I tense. “You like them?” She turns to her parents. “Well, that’s perfect. Then Claire can come, too, and you don’t have to be so worried.”

  “What? Oh, no.” I wave my hands, poised to jump up from the table. “Jared asked you out. I’m not going as some chaperone. I’m younger than you! Besides, if the concert’s sold out, then it’s impossible.”

  Hannah smacks me. “We can double, I mean. You can go with Zach. Jared already got tickets after it sold out, so maybe he can get more.”

  April shakes with silent giggles. First, she comforts me; now, she laughs at me. Whose side is the imp on?

  “I don’t think Zach will want to go.”

  “Sure he will. Are you kidding? He totally likes you.”

  “I have to work.”

  Hannah grunts in frustration. “See if you can leave early. No one goes grocery shopping on Saturday evening anyway, and the concert doesn’t start until eight. We can go out to eat afterward. Please.” She bats her eyes at me.

  “Oh, you should do some hard bargaining,” Lisa says with a grin. “What do you think this is worth to her?”

  “Whatever you want,” Hannah says. “Name it. I’ll pay for your ticket if that helps.”

  I’m pretty sure there’s no way Hannah could pay what this is worth to me. It’s my dignity we’re talking about, although I hadn’t even considered how much the tickets might cost.

  On the other hand, if I go, I’ll get to see Vamp Dust.

  But with Jared.

  I’m not sure any band is so awesome that they can make up for that.

  Hannah’s turned her pleading on my aunt and uncle now.

  “I suppose I’d feel better about it if Claire is with you,” my aunt says. My uncle nods. “Paul, I assume you’re okay with it.”

  After encouraging them to let Hannah go, my father can’t object much and he knows it. But he gives me a hard look, which I return with interest.

  Hannah squeals.

  “I want you home by midnight,” Uncle George says.

  “Two.”

  “One.”

  “Deal.” Hannah reaches across the table and they shake on it.

  No one’s noticed that I haven’t agreed yet. No one realizes my mind’s working furiously on a plan for getting out of this.

  Maybe Zach won’t want to go. Maybe Jared won’t be able to get more tickets. Maybe I’ll get sick.

  Lying to Zach probably won’t work—I’ll get caught—but illness can be faked easily. After all, Milk and Honey sells lots of interesting products. They might even have that special stuff that makes you puke. What’s it called—syrup of ipecac? If I happen to get violently ill on Saturday, will my aunt and uncle let Hannah go without me?

  I contemplate these scenarios, knowing all the while that I won’t follow through because I can’t stand vomiting. But then, the alternative seems just as likely to make me puke.

  Dinner ends and my mood doesn’t improve because Hannah is filled with nothing but talk about the date. Everything I’m feeling—rage, pain, betrayal—boils over in me until I do the unthinkable.

  I seek out my dad.

  This is usually the time I’d seek out my guitar or Kristen, but I’ve had it. I’m not even sure what I’ve had it about, but all this repressing of my emotions has finally failed. I need to scream and let them out.

  Unfortunately, unless I want the whole neighborhood hearing my woes, I can’t. So I do the next best thing. I shut the back door and storm over to my father.

  He’s alone on the deck, putting his phone away. “Yes?”

  It’s painful keeping my voice low, and I squeeze my hands into fists to relieve the pressure within. “I can’t believe you encouraged Aunt Anita and Uncle George to let Hannah go out with Jared after everything that happened with us. How is this okay now?”

  The fading sunlight casts him in silhouette. He’s a shadow, dark and vapid, which seems so appropriate. “I meant what I said. Hannah is two years older than you were when you were with Jared. When she’s away at school soon, she’ll be doing far riskier things than going to concerts, and her parents will never know. They might as well get used to it.”

  “So that’s it? This is just about age?” I cross my arms. “Nothing to do with the fact that Jared’s rich and famous now unlike the poor loser you thought he was when we dated?”

  The set of my father’s jaw is grim. “My opinion of Jared hasn’t changed. He wasn’t good enough for you then, and he would
n’t be now. The only thing that’s changed is that he got lucky in an unstable profession where he’s exposed to even more bad influences than he ever was in school. But you and Hannah are at an age where you need to start being trusted to make your own decisions.”

  “So if Jared had wanted to take me to the concert, you wouldn’t have objected?” As soon as I say it, I wish I hadn’t. It’s too close to admitting something I want.

  I mean, wanted. A couple years ago, I’d have loved to go to a Vamp Dust concert with Jared.

  My father doesn’t answer right away so I know he’s being hypocritical. It’s a lot easier giving advice to others than it is taking your own. “Considering your history, I’d have a bit more concern about you. He brings out your worst behavior.”

  I have to hold in a sarcastic laugh. “I dumped him for Mom’s sake. I hardly expected a thank-you for it, but how is that my worst behavior?”

  “If you’d been thinking clearly, you’d have broken up with him for your own sake and no one else’s. But you were so obsessed with him that you were blinded to the idea that you could do better.”

  “I wasn’t obsessed, and I didn’t want better. He was good to me. Yeah, he got lucky, but he worked hard, too, and he’s talented.”

  Good God, why am I defending Jared now? I must be so filled with unvented rage that I don’t even know who I’m angry at anymore. Jared. My dad. The universe. Myself?

  I pause to get a grip, and in the lull, I think I hear the ocean in the background. With it, the “forsaken” song. At once, it dawns on me what that song is about. It’s not Jared, like I’d feared. It’s my family. This is the song I started months ago and still can’t get right.

  “I’m not going to be perfect, and I’m not going to be you.” I reach behind me for the door knob, and my hand shakes. “You could never recognize Jared’s focus or talent because you see only one way of being successful. But there’s more than one way, and you’d better get used to that because I’m not going to be following in your footsteps.”

  My dad doesn’t answer. The shock on his face is almost comical. I don’t think I’ve spoken this much to him at once since my mom’s funeral, and I definitely haven’t dared use this tone in years.