How To Get Your Heart Broken

by Rose Fall

  Our fight had evidently brought this newfound tradition to a halt. I couldn’t say I was sad about it.

  “It does,” she nodded, “Bet you wish you’d thought about that before you forgave me.”

  “Yep, I certainly do,” I said regretfully.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t love our bonding time,” Rachel said cheerily, wrapping her arms around me in a move that felt more like a chokehold than a hug.

  I let out a strained laugh.

  And just like that we were Rachel and Eli again. It didn’t mean I wasn’t hurt, in fact I would probably never forget that night, but we needed each other and we both knew it, even if neither of us would ever admit it.

  ---

  "Ashton! Fancy meeting you here!" I said dramatically as she opened the door to her room.

  She let out a loud gasp, eyeing me suspiciously as she closed the door behind her. "Wha-… what are you doing in my room?"

  I shrugged. She kept her hand on the doorknob, like she was preparing to run.

  "Ash, relax. I just wanted to know if Rachel apologized."

  "Oh," she said. Then she snorted, "Yeah, I guess."

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "Well," she said, finally walking towards me, "It was the lousiest apology I've ever heard. She never actually said the word sorry. But this is Rachel we're talking about."

  I sighed.

  "What'd you do, blackmail her into it?"

  "No," I said defensively.

  She shook her head. I knew she knew I had something to do with it because Rachel would never apologize to Ash on her own accord. But I wanted to pretend anyway, to instill some doubt in her mind, so she could start to rethink her answer on the question of whether or not Rachel had a soul. That was the first step, I’d decided.

  "Well, thanks for trying anyway," she smiled.

  I shrugged.

  "Huh!" she gasped suddenly. "Fudge!"

  "What?" I asked, amused by her fake curse.

  "Nothing," she said quickly. I eyed her suspiciously as she added; "I think I dropped...something."

  "A book? I know how vital those are to your survival," I teased.

  "Yeah," she nodded, "That's it...a book."

  Now I knew something was up. "How about I help you look for it?" I smiled.

  Her face morphed into a mask of horror. "No!" she exclaimed, shaking her head and waving her hands in front of me.

  "Okay..."

  "I'm gonna go look for it outside...you stay here! Don't move," she added forcefully, walking backwards towards the door so she could keep an eye on me.

  I could hear heavy, rapid footsteps on the stairs as soon as she left the room. I took them as my cue. As soon as I was sure she was gone I started searching through her bag. Could you blame me? I'd never seen her act so suspiciously before. She was obviously trying to hide something. What if she was in trouble? It was my duty as her best friend to find out what she was hiding so that I could save her…At least that was how I justified it.

  I rummaged through her bag twice and found nothing. I closed the door, and started perusing her room. I checked under the bed, behind the bedframe, under the mattress, I checked her shoes, in her pant pockets, between the flowers on the vase, ran my fingers over the blades of the ceiling fan, I moved paintings hoping to find secret passageways...And that's when I stopped, because that's when I realized the absurdity of the situation. Plus I was tired, and I’d gotten a bruise from falling off the bed when I was checking the fan.

  Besides, I wasn't even sure what I was looking for. I collapsed on her bed, accepting defeat, staring at the bookshelf that stood across the room. Then I found it. All those late nights watching too many action movies did pay off! I. Was. Ecstatic. I had to remind myself to stop doing my happy dance so I could get to the bottom of this case before Ash came back. Sneakily, I glided my way to the bookcase. I stared at it like it was priceless treasure.

  I happened to know that Ashton organized her books by favorites, so that the order made no sense to anyone but her. I also remembered that Sylvia Plath was her favorite poet. So why was Ariel in the middle of the shelf? The only explanation was that it had been moved to make room for something else.

  I stood on my toes, looking at the top of the bookshelf. And...bingo! I found a book with no title or author. I pulled it out, looking back at the door like I was a spy in enemy territory.

  Ashton Willis

  March 14th, 2009

  I promise to document the exciting and awful moments of my life, so that I may share them with you, wherever you are. All the things I find I can't share with anyone else shall be written here.

  With Love,

  Your favorite (and only) granddaughter

  I sat down. So this was her diary. I was certain it was what she’d been looking for. But why would she be so adamant on hiding it today? ‘Maybe I shouldn’t read it,’ I started to think. ‘But she’s just learned my deepest secret, so maybe this will just bring us closer?...Yeah! Open it, open it, open it…’

  I flipped the page carefully. The journal was beautiful, its black leather cover embellished by vine-like designs in gold print that made it resemble the sort of books

  collectors sought after, the kind that sold for thousands of dollars at old book stores, except the pages were starting to fall out. Though the table of contents proved the diary to be almost as ancient as the books it resembled, the journal was large enough that I could understand why she hadn’t filled it up after all these years.

  I skimped through the titles.

  November 15th, 2009 “A Bad Day “

  April 29th, 2011 “The Day I Met Eliza/ "Elle"

  September 4th, 2012 “I Miss You”

  March 10th, 2013 “An Epiphany”

  June 20th, 2015 “The Day I Met Julian”

  And that's when I knew I'd found it. What she'd been trying to hide, I mean.

  I Don’t Want to Be Your Sugar, Sugar

  June 20th, 2015 The Day I Met Julian

  I was just minding my own business. I was sitting near the beach on this bench I’d found. Etched into it were different markings; wild declarations of love by teenagers, some flower drawings, hearts, stick figures, proclamations of everlasting friendships, “Tori & Brit: BFFs Forever, ” other drawings I couldn’t identify, some I didn’t want to. It was a beautiful, cloudless day. Somewhere in the distance, birds were chirping. Children were merrily splashing each other and those who hadn’t heard about the hole in the ozone layer lay out to bake in the sun. No one bothered me; it was just me, Dostoyevsky, and my stack of beef jerky. That is, until he came along.

  I was smiling up at the sky, reveling in how good the sun felt on my face. There was a slight breeze, which blew my hair in all directions. He came out of nowhere, he said nothing. When I looked at him, he smiled, but that was all. I slid over, to give him room, and because I felt uncomfortable being so close to a stranger. But he did the same, like he had taken my actions as an invitation. So I slid over again, abandoning all attempts at subtlety in hopes that he would get the hint. He did it again. And again.

  And so grandfather, we continued this little dance until there was no bench left. He was so close, much closer than common courtesy permits, so close I could see the rise and fall of his chest when he breathed. I turned towards him, forced to lean back because otherwise our noses would have been touching. I was ready to stand my ground, but he smiled again, like he was amused by the whole thing, like he was just hoping to get a reaction out of me. I grabbed my beef jerky, clutched Crime and Punishment in my arms and slid onto the sand. I tried to mimic his smile, wanting to master his frustrating yet undeniably handsome expression.

  I’ll always remember the first words we spoke to each other. “You can have the bench,” I said and he replied, “I’d rather sit next to you.” And that’s how it began, the moment that changed my life.

  ---

  I raised an eyebrow at Jessie. He was leaning on the frame of our front door, lookin
g as cocky and cheerful as ever. He had come to borrow “sugar.”

  He said it suggestively with that stupid smirk on his face, like I was supposed to be “sugar.”

  I shook my head; I was still a little frazzled from nearly getting caught. I’d barely had time to put away Ash’s diary before she ran into the room.

  “Jessie’s asking for an ‘Ali’, I’m guessing he meant you,” she’d said when she came back.

  I’d given her a weird look and practically ran out of her room, but I was fairly certain she hadn’t suspected anything.

  I felt guilty for what I’d done, but what was I supposed to say? “Hey, Ash, I think I found what you were looking for. By the way, who the hell is Julian?” Yeah, right.

  “Not interested!” I exclaimed to Jessie impulsively. I tried to slam the door but it seemed to get caught on something. I realized it was his hand when I heard him squeal. There were a slurry of curse words from him.

  I saw Rachel look up from the T.V. to give me a questioning look, one that said, “Is this your way of charming him?”

  I just couldn’t stop myself from disliking him long enough to try to “charm” him especially after how stupidly he’d acted the last time I saw him. But he didn’t seem to mind. After all, he’d wanted my sugar.

  I opened the door slowly, waiting for him to move his fingers. I bit my lip, trying to give him my most innocent look, “Whoops,” I muttered. There was an expression of bewilderment on his face.

  “I just wanted to talk,” he pouted. “And I’m pretty sure you did that on purpose!”

  “I swear I didn’t,” I protested.

  “Then why are you smiling?”

  “Because I can’t believe you think I would do that! Here, come in,” I said, pulling him in with his good hand.

  “Cool place. Hey Rach!” He shouted as I dragged him towards the kitchen. I rolled my eyes, apparently it hadn’t hurt that much.

  I opened our freezer, wondering if frozen waffles could suffice as an improvised ice pack. I decided against it, grabbing a hand towel to put ice in before handing it to him.

  “Woah,” I said once I’d actually looked at his hand. It had quickly turned an angry red, making me suddenly remorseful. “Sorry, I honestly didn’t mean to.”

  “You can kiss it and make it better,” he said with a smirk. And as quickly as it had come, all traces of remorse were gone. I rolled my eyes as I turned away.

  “Wait, Eli,” he said. He put his good hand over the one I had on the counter.

  Something about my expression must have discouraged him.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling his hand away. “Look… about the other day.

  “It’s cool,” I said quickly.

  “No, wait‒”

  “Can we just pretend the whole thing never happened?” I sighed. I’d gotten tired of talking about this.

  He stayed silent for a long time, staring at me as if he were trying to read my mind. I didn’t look away.

  “Okay,” he finally sighed, “If that’s what you want.”

  I gave him a small smile before looking down again, lifting the ice to check his hand.

  “Just admit you did it on purpose,” he whispered.

  “I did not!” I couldn’t help laughing. “You honestly think so little of me.”

  “No,” he said, “I just think you’ve got a temper.”

  I looked up, raising an eyebrow at him.

  “I like it,” he grinned.

  “Could you blame me if I had?”

  I laughed at his insulted expression.

  Plot Twist Ahead

  I fumbled through the pages of Ashton’s diary, trying to see if she had updated it. Her burgeoning relationship was making me very curious, and honestly, the slightest bit anxious. As cynical as it sounded, I had a bad feeling about this Julian character, and I could think of no other way to monitor the situation. So I was simultaneously relieved to find that she’d written a couple entries in the past few days and concerned about the fact that they all seemed to be about him. I flipped to the first new entry. It was different from the previous ones; for one, there was no tittle or date.

  “Let me be honest with you,” he said as he turned towards the beach. “I’m not looking for anything serious, but I like you. I think you’re pretty…” He turned back towards me, assessing, “Beautiful actually. And I think you belong with someone much nicer and more…ethereal than me. But some strange twist of fate has kept that from happening. Their loss is my gain.”

  He turned towards me and smiled, “What do you think of my proposition?”

  I froze. He didn’t seem to notice. Casually, he asked “What’s your name by the way?” As if that was the logical follow up to everything he had just said.

  I stared at my lap. I wished I were confident, I wished I were brave. I wished he didn’t scare me. But the more he spoke the less I wanted to look away, and the more I did.

  “Well, I’m Julian,” he smiled brightly. It was the most extraordinary smile I had ever seen.

  I took a breath, tried not to get lost in the ocean in his eyes and whispered, “Ash.”

  “Is that a nickname?”

  I nodded.

  He nodded too, “Well, my stepsisters call me Jules, when they’re trying to annoy me, that is.”

  He looked at the notebook in my hand and then pulled it out of my grasp, carefully sliding his thumb where I’d placed mine as a bookmark.

  Skin inside out

  Flightless, flailing

  Danger is nearing

  A kiss, a breath

  A new start, a sudden death

  “So you’re a poet?”

  I managed a shrug. He nodded before placing my notebook back in my limp hands. Then he took the pen from my other hand. He started scratching on the space between us on the bench. I watched as he ruined my beautiful and very expensive pen. My favorite pen, the one dad had engraved for me a few Christmases ago, and I didn’t mind...

  I didn’t mind that he’d ruined my pen. I didn’t mind that the heart looked like it was drawn by a third grader with a broken wrist. I didn’t mind anything.

  I flipped the page to find a more traditional entry, titled with the question I’d been pondering since I’d first discovered her journal.

  June 21rd, 2015 Who Is Julian???

  I saw him again today. I went back to that bench, hoping he would show up, and he finally did, just as I was about to leave. I showed him some of my poems, which no one has ever read and he seemed to like them. Maybe he’s just a really good liar. I feel like I would believe anything he said.

  And he ruined my pen, the one that Dad engraved for me a few Christmases ago, but it was while he was writing our names on the bench, and I couldn’t really bring myself to mind.

  I found it odd that the two entries seemed to recount the same incident, but it wasn’t exactly like I was at liberty to ask questions. I pondered the possible significance of this as I continued to flip through.

  June 22nd, 2015

  His hair is this rich brown, like the color of milk chocolate. It’s also really curly. His eyes are blue, light blue, like the color of the sky today. They are huge; beautiful, and intriguing. He is rather pale, like he hasn’t been spending much time outside even though he’s at the beach. He has a few, sporadically placed freckles, there’s one on the side of his jaw that I think is my favorite. When his mouth is closed his smile is sort of lopsided, but he usually smiles with teeth, and then angels sing. He’s taller than me, but only by an inch or two. He has huge feet and a large scar on his ankle. Based on his physique I’m assuming he plays sports, despite the paleness. He looks like a Greek god and I’m sure he could have any girl he wanted. I don’t know why he chose me. He sort of dresses like a homeless person, but he is so beautiful that he can get away with it. I try to remember his face when I’m not with him, because it feels like waking up and finding out the best dream you’ve ever had is real. For some reason I can never get it quite right, a
nd that always makes me want to see him again, so I can try again, to memorize him.

  I don’t know much about him. I just know he isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met before. Honestly, I don’t know what’s going to happen between us, but I’m scared. It’s like we’re from two different worlds, two different galaxies. It’s like what he said today; someone like me doesn’t belong with someone like him, but I think I’m drawn to the poetics of that. If this is going to be my first heartbreak, I can’t wait. What can I do? It’s fate; it might as well be etched in stone. I mean, it’s etched on that bench.

  June 24th, 2015 ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! (And the plot thickens)

  He knows how to surf and play guitar. He laughs when he doesn’t want to answer a question, and I’m convinced that his smile is the cure to depression. I think he sees everything differently from the way the rest of the world does, and it’s impossible to get tired of the sound of his voice. I can’t believe I’m so obsessed with someone I didn’t even know existed a few days ago. I feel like there aren’t enough hours in the day to learn everything there is to know about Julian.

  But some things are too good to be true. Today he mentioned something that, to say in the least, complicates things. Julian just so happens to be our next door neighbor, which is a problem for many reasons, but mostly because of one very important one.

  And then I knew.

  I’m Sad When You’re Sad

  “Julian is Jessie’s brother!” I said to no one.

  I felt stupid for not having had that realization sooner, but Jessie had mentioned a little brother and I imagined a boy no older than seven with the same eyes and a bowl cut. Clearly I’d let my imagination run away with me.

  I found myself moaning at the thought of this new revelation. Everything had gotten so much more complicated than I envisioned it ever being. How could Ash start a relationship with Julian when she’d participated in our scheme to break his brother’s heart? What would happen if he ever found out? What if Ash felt compelled to tell him the truth?