This Heart of Mine

by C. C. Hunter

  She hugs him. “Are you sure it’s not about me?”

  “Positive,” he says.

  They stand in the garage neither have entered in a long time. He knows this is a step. A step toward letting go. And it’s because of Leah. She’s so damn good for him.

  The silence in the garage is comfortable. Then his mom speaks up. “Do you want your dad’s and Eric’s cars?”

  He looks at Dad’s Lexus SUV and Eric’s Subaru. He feels an attachment to them because they belonged to them, but he remembers the article he’d read about cleaning out the departed’s things.

  “No,” he forces himself to say, even when his heart says yes.

  “Then maybe we should sell them and use that money to restore the Mustang. I think your dad and Eric would approve, don’t you?” She presses a hand over her trembling lips.

  Matt nods and swallows his own emotion. Why did healing, letting go, have to hurt so much?

  “Speaking of money,” his mom says. “I’m going back to work.”

  He looks at her. She used to love her job as a real estate agent. “Are you ready?”

  “Some days I feel more ready than others. But I think it’s time I push myself.”

  “Yeah.” He’s proud of her. “I’ll put an ad on Craigslist for the cars.”

  She nods. “Come help me. I’ve got groceries in the car.”

  They walk outside. “Speaking of school … How are you doing? I don’t want you to let your grades drop again.” His mom had a fit last semester when he’d had two Cs on his report card.

  Grabbing a few bags of groceries from her trunk, he looks at her. “I’m not. Actually studying with L … ori is helping.”

  “When am I going to meet this Lori?” she asks.

  He swallows. “Soon maybe.” He wonders what Leah would say if he told her he’s lied to his mom about her name. But, damn it, his mom is doing so well. He doesn’t want to risk her figuring out that Leah has Eric’s heart. It might drag her back into depression.

  His mom moves beside him and grabs a couple of bags herself. “Why is Ted’s car here and your car isn’t?”

  Because I’m using Ted’s car to spy on Cassie’s neighbor’s house. Since Ms. Chambers’s cop boyfriend had seen him last, he’d been swapping cars with Ted for a few hours every day. Only today, Ted had somewhere to go, and they wouldn’t swap back until later tonight.

  But he can’t tell his mom that. “Ted’s car was making a weird noise, and he wanted me to drive it and see if I could identify the problem.”

  “That’s nice of you,” his mom says.

  “Yeah.” He hates lying. But his mom would flip if she knew. Leah would too. Hence the reason he hasn’t told her.

  Not that anything has happened. So far, he’s got nothing. He hasn’t spotted a motorcycle or a tattooed guy. He hasn’t seen Cassie or her future cop stepdad again. But he still feels things when he’s there. He feels Eric. He feels unhappiness. Lately, the dreams are driving him crazy. He keeps having the one where Eric drops the gun, followed by the sound of a gunshot. Each time, he wakes up with the throbbing pain in his temple.

  He refuses to believe Eric killed himself. Or that it was an accident. And he’s not stopping until he proves it.

  * * *

  “So what’s going on?” Brandy asks as I drag her to my bedroom. I don’t answer and won’t until we’re in my room, doors shut, alone. “Come on, spill.” She drops on my bed and gets comfortable.

  It’s Thursday afternoon, and after “the talk” with my mom a little earlier, I needed a sounding board. So I called Brandy.

  “Is this about Matt? I noticed you didn’t say you went walking with him yesterday or today.”

  I shake my head. “No, it’s not … He had something he had to do.” I stare at Brandy and debate where to begin. “I’m going to start taking birth control pills.”

  Brandy’s mouth drops open and closes, making her look like a fish out of water. “What?”

  I give her the lowdown about Dr. Hughes wanting me on the pill. I don’t tell her I can’t ever have kids. I’m not ready to share that.

  “But the pill isn’t the problem,” I say.

  “Oookay,” she says, stretching out the O. “What’s the problem?”

  “I’m going to the doctor tomorrow. This afternoon, mom told me what the doctor will do.”

  “What will he do?” She looks confused.

  “She,” I correct quickly and drop down and start strangling a pillow. “Thank God it’s a she, but it’s still terrifying?”

  “What’s terrifying?” she asks.

  “A pap smear! I’ve heard of them before but never thought about them.” I clutch the pillow tighter. “They used to do them to all teen girls, but stopped because it was so traumatic, but because I’m on the immune suppressant drugs, I have to do it. I mean … They are going to spread my legs open and stick something inside me and—”

  “Kind of sounds like sex.” Brandy belts out with laughter.

  I hit her with my pillow. “I’m serious.” She keeps laughing. I hit her again.

  She finally sobers.

  “Have you had one?” I ask.

  “No. But women everywhere have them. I don’t think they hurt too bad.”

  “It’s not just the pain,” I say. “It’s that this doctor is going to see parts of me that I’ve never seen.”

  Brandy falls back over, laughing again.

  It’s suddenly contagious, and we laugh a long time. Then I say, “I’m scared.”

  She wipes the smile off her face. “Someone cut open your chest, not once, but twice. I’m sure this will be a piece of cake.”

  “I don’t know. Mom says they use a metal thing to kind of crank you open. That sounds painful.”

  “I’m sure it’s not fun, but … I’d do it to go on the pill. About six months ago, Brian’s condom burst. I was terrified I was pregnant. I even took a pregnancy test. I didn’t let him touch me again for a month.”

  “You didn’t tell me this,” I say.

  “You’d just gotten the heart and it didn’t feel right whining to you.”

  “You can always whine to me,” I say. “That’s what best friends are for.” But I haven’t been a very good one.

  “I know.” She grabs a pink pillow and stuffs it behind her.

  “You don’t think your parents suspect you are having sex?” I ask.

  “Are you kidding? They live in an alternate universe. They still give me stuffed animals for my birthdays.” She suddenly sits up. “Wait. You’re going to the doctor tomorrow?” She frowns. “We’re meeting after school for book club again.”

  “Sorry.”

  She gives me the evil eye. “I don’t think you’re that sorry.”

  “Please! Like I’d rather have a pap smear.”

  She giggles. “But seriously, are you joining the book club or not?”

  “I’m not sure I belong. And Trent will be there, and things are weird with us. Today he walked by my car just as Matt kissed me goodbye. He looked devastated.”

  “Don’t worry about him. He’ll move on.”

  “Right. It’s been almost two years since I broke up with him.”

  “Yeah, but…” Brandy scrunches up her shoulders as if guilty. “I never told you, but two weeks after you two broke up, he was dating Tammy Wilcox. Word is she slept with him. They broke up, but he’s dated at least five girls since you.”

  I’m sitting there, trying to digest something that feels indigestible. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought … why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You kind of had other things to worry about.”

  I toss a pillow at her, glad to finally be free of feeling sorry for Trent. “No more secrets. Seriously.”

  “Okay.” She pauses. “So you really think you and Matt are going to have sex?”

  I remember our kisses. The way his bare skin felt under my hands. I know where it’ll take me, and I want to go. I
just haven’t figured out how I’m going to hide my scar. I’m afraid if he sees it, he won’t want to have sex. That’ll kill me. Just kill me.

  “Yeah.” I finally answer.

  “This weekend?” she asks.

  “No,” I choke on the word. “This is our first date.”

  “You’ve been with him all week. And I see the way you two look at each other.”

  “Yeah, but all we’ve done so far is kiss.”

  “So you jump ahead.” She hugs the pillow tighter.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Brandy pauses. “Are y’all still having dreams?” Her tone is different, walking-on-eggshells careful.

  I consider lying. But she’s my best friend. “Yeah.”

  Thankfully, Mom calls us to dinner. We drop the dream talk and go eat. But as I move into the kitchen, I remember the whole pap-smear conversation and lose my appetite.

  26

  After second period on Friday, and during our fifteen-minute break, Matt texts me and tells me he’ll meet me at my locker. I’m changing out my books in my backpack when my locker neighbor, Devon, walks up. We’ve spoken a couple of times between classes.

  He’s nice. Maybe too nice. Sometimes I wonder if he’s hitting on me.

  I’m flattered, but soooo not interested.

  “Ready for the weekend?” Devon asks.

  “Yeah,” I answer in a polite, uninterested way.

  The hallway is noisy, so he takes a polite, interested step closer. “I was wondering if you might like to hang out this weekend.”

  I take a polite, uninterested step back.

  It takes me a minute to find my words. “Sorry but—”

  I’m suddenly grabbed and gently swung around. Almost before I see Matt, his lips are on mine.

  This isn’t anything like the other hall kiss. It’s deep, it’s with tongue, and it’s … wonderful. I forget we’re being watched by probably hundreds of students. All I can think about is his chest on mine, his hand behind my neck, angling my head so the kiss moves deeper.

  I hear loud whistles, and I’m guessing they’re directed at us. I still don’t stop. Old Leah would be humiliated. New Leah is in hog heaven.

  Matt pulls back and meets Devon’s gaze. He doesn’t look angry; he’s even grinning. “Hi, Devon.”

  Devon laughs and looks at me. “I’m going to take that to mean you already got plans.”

  “Yeah.” Now Old Leah creeps in a little, and I’m embarrassed. But not too much.

  Devon walks off and Matt looks at me. “I hope you didn’t mind.”

  “No. I was telling him—”

  “But seeing it is better than hearing it.”

  “Are you two finished?” A teasing voice pipes up.

  I look up. It’s Ted, Matt’s friend, whom I have yet to be introduced to.

  “Yeah.” Pride etches into Matt’s smile.

  Ted grins. “You’re Leah, right? The reason I haven’t seen much of Matt here.”

  “Yeah. Sorry,” I say, but I’m not.

  “It’s okay.” Ted looks at Matt and holds out a hoodie and a book. “You left these in my car. And thanks for the gas, but you didn’t have to do that.”

  “Yeah,” Matt takes the items and looks … somehow guilty. Then he glances at me.

  Ted leaves, and I’m still trying to figure out the guilty look when Matt blurts out in low voice, “I used his car to see if I could spot the motorcycle guy on Cassie’s street. I know you don’t like it, but I’m being careful. Wearing a hoodie.”

  Frustration fueled by fear rises inside me. “It’s still dangerous.”

  He pulls me close and leans his forehead on mine. “I’m a big boy.”

  Yeah, one I care about. I swallow my frustration because now isn’t the time. The bell rings.

  “See you at lunch,” he says, still studying me.

  “I have a … dentist appointment. I’m leaving right before lunch.” The lie turns my tongue bitter. But I tell myself it’s practically the same thing. Someone’s gonna stick something somewhere I don’t want them to.

  “You got a cavity?” He touches my cheek.

  “Just a checkup.” I almost blush realizing what’s going to be checked.

  “Were still on for tonight, right?”

  “Yeah.” I even asked Mom if I’d be too sore to go out. She assured me I wouldn’t.

  “Six, okay?” he asks. “We can eat some pizza and then go to the movies at seven thirty.”

  “That’s good.”

  He brushes a finger over my lips. “I’ll be thinking about it all day.”

  I put my hand on his chest. “Promise you’re not going to watch Cassie’s house this afternoon.”

  He frowns but answers. “I’m not. I’ve got a hot date tonight.”

  Walking away, I watch him. Even with my nerves on edge, I’m looking forward to that hot date.

  * * *

  At lunch, Matt grabs milk and a muffin and goes in search of Marissa. She’s where she always is, with the other cheerleaders and his friends.

  There’s a spot open beside her. He drops down. She frowns.

  “You lose your girl?” Ted asks in a teasing tone.

  “She had to leave early,” Matt says.

  He waits a minute, then leans close to Marissa. “Can we talk?”

  “I’m eating,” she says.

  He makes small talk with the guys, waiting for her to finish lunch. He leans in again. “Now?”

  Frowning, she jumps up. They aren’t out of the lunchroom, when she snaps, “What’s wrong, you lonely without your book dork?”

  Matt frowns. “Don’t be like that.”

  “Like what?” She continues out of the lunchroom and stops right outside the double doors. “You mean upset that you lied to me?”

  “When did I lie?”

  “Seven months ago when you told me you weren’t in the right place to start dating. I’ve been waiting, and now you’re steaming up the halls with her.”

  “I never told you to wait.”

  “You didn’t tell me not to.”

  No, but he thought he’d sent out enough signals that she’d know he wasn’t into her. The only reason he dated her was because of Eric.

  “Can’t we just be friends?” he asks.

  “Friends don’t just talk to you when they need something. Which brings me to my next question. What do you need?”

  He feels guilty. “I’m sorry, but you know Cassie better than anyone.”

  “I knew her. After I spoke to you on Monday, I called her. She didn’t answer. Her phone’s full of messages. I called her again later. She didn’t call me back. She’s gone psycho.”

  “Yeah, but I want you to call her home phone. Try to reach her that way and—”

  “Why don’t you just call her yourself?”

  “Because I was told not to.”

  “By who?”

  “Cassie. The police. And Cassie again.”

  Her eyes round. “What are you doing, Matt?”

  “I’m trying to find out what happened to Eric.”

  She rolls her eyes. “When are you going to accept what happened?”

  “Eric didn’t kill himself.” He tries not to sound angry. But it hurts.

  Marissa groans. “Okay, I’ll call her. But after this, leave me out of it, okay?”

  He nods, and he’s so thankful he has Leah.

  Marissa moves to a less-crowded corner and dials. Matt follows.

  “Hi, Mrs. Chambers. It’s Marissa.” She pauses, Matt leans closer to see if he can hear Cassie’s mom. “Fine, thanks.” Marissa frowns at him. “And you?”

  “Good.” Marissa pulls the phone from her ear and hits speakerphone. “I can’t seem to reach Cassie,” Marissa continues. “I thought something might be wrong with her phone.”

  “She’s probably not answering it because she’s in school.” Ms. Chambers says. “Are you skipping school, young lady?”

  Marissa looks at Matt and answers, “Uh �
�� No ma’am. It’s lunchtime.”

  Ms. Chambers continues. “I asked Cassie why you haven’t come by. She said you two only have one class together. You should come over. Cassie’s still dealing with things. She could use a friend.”

  Matt sees guilt flash in Marissa’s eyes. “Yeah, I’ll talk to her.”

  “Good,” Ms. Chambers says.

  Marissa hangs up. “Did you get what I got from that conversation?”

  Matt nods. “She’s living here, and her mom thinks she’s attending school. But she’s nowhere to be found.”

  Marissa looks concerned. “Do you think she’s gotten into drugs or something?”

  “I don’t know,” Matt says. But he intends to find out.

  * * *

  Sitting in a paper gown, I can’t stop fidgeting. Dr. Stein finally comes in. She’s young and nice. Even tells me how scared she was at her first gynecological checkup. Then she goes through a quick questionnaire.

  Tobacco? No.

  Alcohol? No.

  Sex? No.

  She explains everything she’s going to do.

  When she goes to pull my paper gown open to examine my breasts, I warn her about my scars. I didn’t want to hear her gasp. One gasp memory is enough.

  She smiles and says she knows. As she checks my breasts, she gives me tips on how to examine them. Really? I already need to do that?

  As she moves below, she keeps talking, which I find awkward. And the stirrups don’t help. It isn’t painful, but it isn’t pleasant. I have my eyes closed so tight, my jaws ache.

  Mid pap smear, she informs me that my hymen is already broken. My eyes shoot open. I lift my head up, look right at her between my knees, and swear to everything holy that I haven’t had sex. She explains it sometimes happens with girls who wear tampons.

  I don’t think I breathe again until she leaves the room.

  When I’m getting dressed, I look down at my scar and run my finger over it. It’s fading. It isn’t as light as Dr. Hughes’s yet, but it’s lighter.

  When I walk out front, Mom’s paying.

  Heading to the car, she asks, “So you survived?”

  “It wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

  “Told you.” Mom drapes her arm around my shoulder. “Did you like Dr. Stein?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “She said she called in a prescription to the same pharmacy you use.”