The Heartbeat Hypothesis

by Lindsey Frydman

  “Thanks,” I said when he handed me the Coke bottle. Taking another sip, I wondered how long it would take to kick in. Straight rum tasted as bad as straight whiskey, so I decided right then and there that all liquor was terrible.

  But the terrible liquor didn’t bother me as much as my terrible thoughts did.

  I turned away. The sky was dark, but covered in clouds. I squinted, trying to spot the patches of starlight, but found only a few.

  “Is it always going to feel this way?” I asked.

  “Like what?”

  “Like…the whole world will never be right again.”

  He didn’t answer for a long time. I wrapped my arms around my waist and turned. He’d spread out a square blanket on the leaf-covered ground. “You really thought of everything,” I said.

  “The world will never be right again.” Jake took one step forward. He paused before adding, “But it will get easier, I think. Especially for you.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  He dropped his voice, though there was no one remotely nearby. “I mean, you have other people. You’ve still got everything else. You’ll recover. If I can recover, so can you.”

  “You think you’ve recovered?”

  He paused, shoulders hunching, and searched my face. “No.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes, attempt some lame joke, or punch him in the arm playfully—like I might’ve done a few weeks ago. But I couldn’t do anything but stare at the blanket on the ground. “I don’t think I’m following you,” I said, still not looking at him. “Are you trying to make me feel better or…?”

  He sighed, shuffled toward the blanket, and sat. “I’m not good at this. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you feel worse.”

  Picking up the liquor bottle, he nodded at the spot beside him.

  I sat. Maybe a little too quickly. I chugged another small shot, followed by a sip of Coke. Jake did the same, then shoved the bottle back to me. “No way.” I waved my hand.

  “Come on. It’s the right thing to do.”

  Something about the way he looked at me turned my insides warm and fuzzy. Or maybe that was the alcohol. His grin lit up his entire face, the lines around his eyes and mouth becoming distinct. Jake was not one to offer many genuine smiles. Not even to me. And the way he could alternate between looks of agony and smiles baffled me.

  “I really shouldn’t drink anymore.”

  “I understand.”

  But I eyed the clear bottle, appreciating the way my pain dulled as the alcohol swirled in my stomach. So I took another swig. “Yuck. Just make sure I don’t pass out here tonight, okay?”

  “That should be a given by now, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not so sure of anything anymore.”

  His smile disappeared.

  Damn. Way to go, mouth.

  I looked away, picking at the frayed ends of the blanket. “Who were you beating up at that party?”

  He shifted, pulling his knees up to rest his arms against them. With a heavy exhale, he said, “Ah. A guy I know.”

  I waited, images my brain stored from that night flashing in my head—swinging fists, body parts tumbling toward the ground, Jake walking away from me.

  And him telling me we couldn’t be friends.

  “Why does it matter?” he asked, gravel threading through his tone.

  “Because I care. And it obviously matters to you if you put forth the effort to swing on some guy. So…it matters to me.”

  His face remained calm and collected as he stared out into the nothingness in front of us. “A guy I know from back home. We were talking. He said some bullshit about my sister. Guess I kind of lost it.”

  I paused, letting his words settle in. “Oh.”

  When he turned his head, I met his stare, my brain slightly foggy from the rum. I flicked a mosquito off my arm and prayed I got it before it started itching. Bugs.

  “Okay, so you were beating this guy up.” I tried to keep my voice casual, like we were friends.

  Because we were. I was almost positive.

  “It was stupid,” Jake said softly.

  I thought about asking for more details, but decided I probably didn’t want to know. “What about after, when I stopped you outside the party?”

  His jaw shifted. So did his gaze. “What about it?”

  “Why did you…say those things?”

  “I don’t have the answers you’re looking for… I thought I was doing you a favor. Thought it was for the best.”

  He kissed me, then claimed I was better off without him. That’s what he thought was best? “You were wrong.”

  He ground his jaw, his fingers clenching around his knees. “Maybe.”

  I stretched my legs out farther and shifted so my ass wouldn’t go numb. “You really don’t have any friends?” It felt safer somehow to whisper it.

  The noise he made was akin to a laugh, but it wasn’t really a laugh. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  Despite his insistence that we couldn’t be friends, I nodded. Fire burned in my stomach, but my legs and feet, fingers and nose stung like ice.

  “There’s one other person I’d call a friend. But he stayed back home in Platteville. Went to a community college. I couldn’t stay there.” Jake flattened his legs and twisted until he faced me. “I spend a lot of time alone. Most of my time. I kind of…forgot how to be a friend. Micah and I were friends in middle school and most of high school, but I couldn’t tell you why—or how—you become friends with someone anymore.”

  Yeah, I knew the feeling. Maybe it was a talent you only possessed when you were young, and adults had no clue how to make friends.

  “I need to know…” Do you have feelings for me? A question I should’ve asked, because like Kat said, I needed to start asking for the things I wanted, but I couldn’t force the words to leave my lips. “Are you still going to teach me piano and finish the photographs? After you didn’t show up, I figured…”

  A few moments passed, and the taciturn cold stung my skin and gnawed at my nose. Silence.

  If he said no, I’d shatter into a million pieces. I was already a ticking time bomb, and I had no idea if he knew how precarious this moment was.

  “I’m kind of a mess inside,” he said. “I’ll disappoint you. And you don’t deserve that.”

  I bit my lip and looked away. “So you’re done. Fine.”

  I reached for the bottle, but he grabbed my arm.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Well, what then? I can’t decipher a Jake puzzle right now.”

  “Look, Audra, I’m just…” Then he grabbed the bottle and downed three loud gulps before shaking his head. “I’m no good at this.”

  I was sinking. My best friend was gone. And now Jake was all but saying good-bye.

  “Do you think pain is finite?” I heard myself say.

  Another change of topic. Another distraction. Another moment to remember to breathe.

  And Jake said nothing.

  “I’ve been thinking about finite things a lot lately. Like stars.” My voice wavered, but I didn’t care. “And heartbeats. Our lives are finite, like the life of a star is finite. Do you think…?” I stared until he met my gaze. “Is there a limit to pain?”

  Jake tipped his head. “There has to be.”

  “Does there?” I wanted to believe it.

  His gaze moved downward, away from my eyes, and stopped at my lips. I was hyperaware of him looking at me, of him being this close to me. My nerves electrified with the thought of shifting closer, annihilating the gap between us.

  “Everything is finite, isn’t it?” he said. “Nothing lasts forever.”

  “What about love? They say that’s supposed to last forever. You don’t think it’s true?” My cheeks still burned, and I bit my lip to keep my facial expressions in check.

  His brow furrowed. “Pain can’t last forever.”

  “Just a long, long time, right?”

  �
�I wish I could tell you no.”

  I ran my hands over the ground, picked at a blade of grass. “And love?”

  A low, strangled sound came from his throat. “Your guess is probably better than mine.”

  “You’ve never been in love?”

  The question hung heavy in the air, and I tore apart the blade of grass between my fingernails. Silence continued.

  I should learn when to keep my mouth shut.

  Jake finally said, “I’m not sure I understand the concept.”

  I let the shredded grass flutter to the ground, choosing to gape at him instead.

  “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like I belong on a different planet.”

  “Well…it would explain a lot.”

  It was supposed to be a joke, to lighten the mood, to keep my heart from cracking further. But he didn’t respond.

  Through my tightening throat, I whispered, “You loved your sister, right?”

  Jake dragged a hand through his hair, breaking eye contact. “Sure. So I know how to love one person.”

  “I thought I was in love once.” I picked at another piece of grass between my fingers. “But he turned out to be a jerk.”

  “Isn’t that what always happens?”

  “I guess so.”

  I squirmed and cleared my throat before pulling my iPhone from my pocket. “We need music. Don’t you think?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  We didn’t need music. I needed a distraction from thoughts of Jake, love, and jerks.

  I scrolled through my music, trying to decide on something that would change the mood. Like Lady Gaga? Or something mellow, like Coldplay? Maybe Coldplay was too…sad.

  “You pick first.” I handed the phone over to him.

  “What do you want to listen to?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m making you pick first.”

  He tapped the screen. “But we always listen to my music. In my car. At my apartment.”

  “So what? Just pick one for me.”

  While Jake scrolled through the songs, tapping on the screen, I appraised the dark night sky. But looking at the stars led my thoughts to places I didn’t want to go.

  The notes from a moderately slow song drifted through the air. Not anything like the rock music he usually played.

  I can’t say the words, but I need you in my life.

  Did he really pick this song for me? Or did he pick one he thought I’d like? Guess I should’ve been more specific. Or I shouldn’t have put so much thought into it.

  Time goes by and I can’t lie, I wish you’d stay awhile.

  I shifted when a tingle ran down my spine. “I expected something else.”

  A faint smile played on his lips. “What did you expect?”

  “Just…not this.”

  He turned his head, but not before I saw the smile deepen. “Good.”

  I picked up the phone and told my brain to shut up. Overanalyzing everything wasn’t going to help.

  “Are you going to play a song for me now?” When I eyed him, he added, “It’s only fair.”

  “Okay.” I made it look like I had to think about it for a while, but I didn’t. Lots of songs made me think of Jake. But I couldn’t play any of those for him—no freaking way.

  “I can’t,” I finally said.

  “You know that’s unacceptable, right?”

  I choked on a laugh. “You pick another. I, uh, can’t think of one right now.”

  His brows pitched upward, then slowly lowered. “It’s all right. We don’t need the music anyway.”

  “Sure.” I nodded, twisting my fingers.

  We sat together, not saying a word, and it was anything but comfortable.

  But the silence Jake and I shared wasn’t always like that. There were times we didn’t need words. That was part of why I liked hanging out with him so much. On good days, it felt like our souls had been friends for a very long time, like we knew exactly how to be around each other. Then I’d always go and ruin it, bringing up topics like Emily. Or love. And on bad days, when his aura of sadness blazed like an alarm he couldn’t turn off, I felt like I was doing everything all wrong.

  Our hearts have been friends for a very long time.

  I glanced over, caught him already staring at me, and wondered if my recycled heart was the reason Jake and I couldn’t be more than friends.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I stared at Kat’s empty bed, thinking about maybe and supposed to.

  What if she was wrong? She didn’t know Jake like I did. It wasn’t that simple. Maybe you couldn’t define everyone with a single true statement.

  I hadn’t seen Jake in two days, but we’d had a running text conversation going, talking about nothing in particular—classes, homework, TV shows, music. Neither of us mentioned the big issues at hand.

  Our undemanding ramblings gave my mind something to do besides think and worry and hurt. We never finished our conversation about being friends, or the one about continued piano lessons.

  I shoved a pillow behind my back as my phone beeped. With a grumble, I edged my torso off the bed and snatched the phone from the dresser.

  Jake: You want to get out of your dorm room?

  I almost asked him how he knew where I was, but then I remembered: Where else would a brokenhearted girl be at eight o’clock on a Thursday night, right?

  Me: Definitely.

  There were worse things I could do.

  Jake: I’ll pick you up in 15.

  As I waited, I slipped on my shoes and threw on a zip-up jacket. I swiped Chapstick onto my lips with a single quick glance in the mirror. Looking at myself—at my swollen red eyes, and the fluff my hair had become because I couldn’t be bothered with a blow-dryer—was to be avoided at all costs.

  On my way out the door, I halted, my gaze landing on a framed photo of Kat and me. It was purple and pink with “Best Friends” written across the bottom in cute script. I mean, sure, it was super girlie and belonged in a teenager’s bedroom—not a college freshman’s—but I wasn’t embarrassed by it the way I was with my bedspread.

  Photographs were all I had left of her.

  A memory in a purple-and-pink frame. A massive hole in my heart.

  I told myself I’d have one shot and be done. “I don’t want you to think I’m using you for your alcohol,” I told Jake after handing him the bottle of rum.

  He set it down on the floor beside the couch. “Aren’t you though?”

  “No.” My cheeks blushed anyway. “Sure, the alcohol is nice.” For dulling my pain, not for my health. “But that’s not what I’m using you for.”

  “Oh?” He leaned forward, tipped his head. “What are you using me for?”

  Pulling my legs up underneath me, I giggled. (Since when did rum make me giggly?) “Your good looks. You know, eye candy.”

  A grin broke through, spreading wider until he was holding back a laugh. “We spend most of our time together…alone. I don’t think you’re getting very good use out of me.”

  When Jake said things like that, sometimes I wondered if he was flirting with me. Of course he was flirting, right?

  “I’ll use you however I choose, thank you very much,” I said.

  Ohhh, that came out so wrong.

  But he laughed. “Guess I don’t really get a say in it, do I?”

  “Nope.” I eyed the TV, which was set to a muted comedy show.

  I wasn’t using him. I wanted him. Wanted to see and touch him. For us to hang out. For him to smile and laugh with me. And I wanted him to kiss me again.

  “Do you think I have to go to the funeral?” I asked, watching Jake in my peripheral.

  He cleared his throat, hesitating before answering. “Why wouldn’t you want to go?”

  “Funerals are for the living, right? Well, what if I don’t think I want to go? I don’t need a funeral to feel better about things. Going isn’t going to make Kat any less dead.”


  My breath became the loudest sound in the room for several long moments. Bitterness hung heavy in the air, like my own personal cloud of misery.

  Jake angled his body toward me and lowered his voice, taut and brittle. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  I pressed my back into the couch cushion. “I hate them. I—I don’t want to go, be around all those people, sit there and cry and…” See her.

  A funeral was the final good-bye, and I wasn’t ready for that.

  “So don’t go.”

  I stared at his straight face, breathing slowly, attempting to calm my nerves. “You don’t think I should go?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t say that. But if you don’t want to go, then don’t.”

  “I told Kat’s parents I’d give her eulogy.” Based on a promise I’d made to her when we were fourteen. “I can’t just…not go.”

  “But you said—”

  “I know. I know. But I figured you’d tell me how I’m supposed to go, how it’s the right thing to do, how—actually…I don’t know why I thought that at all.”

  He rubbed his knuckles along his jaw. “It would make me a hypocrite to say you should go. I didn’t go to Emily’s.”

  “You didn’t?”

  He stood, walked around the couch, and disappeared from sight. “No. Made it to the church parking lot. I sat there for a while but didn’t end up going in.”

  Twisting my fingers together, I stared at an insignificant spot on the floor. “Do you regret it?”

  “I would’ve only made things worse.” Jake’s voice came from behind me. Leaning over the couch, he set something down in my lap. “Here. I thought this might help.”

  “Oh my God.” I unfurled my fingers. “A pie.”

  He came back around and stood in front of me. “Yeah. I owe you, right?”

  I laughed. “I kind of want to eat it.”

  “That is the only pie I’m buying for face-smashing purposes. If you want to eat it, you’ll have to provide your own next time.”

  I stood, holding the pie as though it were pure gold. “Holy crap, this is awesome.” I removed the plastic lid and tossed it on the couch. “I’m so smashing this pie in your face.”

  He grinned, annihilating all of my anxiety. “Should I be worried?”