Heartbreaker

by J. Dorothy

  There's only one vacant seat, except it has a pile of books on it, like the guy who's sitting next to it, is saving it for someone.

  I fidget and nearly walk out. The class is about to begin, the teacher has arrived and is fussing with his notes. I stand awkwardly for a few seconds, which feel like hours, desperately looking around hoping someone might catch a speedy case of gastro, so I can take their seat. But the god of mercy isn't looking out for me this day, or maybe he is.

  The guy doesn't acknowledge me the whole time, just keeps flicking through the syllabus text book. I can't help but notice how gorgeous he is, which makes it ten times worse. I mean how clichéd, a hot guy, the only vacant seat is the one next to him, and he’s not making a move to offer it to me. I should be pissed, but I'm more nervous.

  I suck up some courage and say, “Is this seat for an actual person or just to shelve your books?”

  The hot guy closes his text book and grins wide at me, and I actually stumble. Dumb ass, I think. Me, not him. He’s so far from a dumb ass it’s not funny. He’s more like a smooth, hot ass.

  He clears the books from the seat in one swoop of his hand. “You’re here. Good, I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Huh! I frown at him, but take the seat anyway, with him still grinning like a goofball.

  I sit through that first lesson wracking my brain, trying to work out if I’d met this guy and just forgotten.

  He doesn't say anything else, and takes copious notes the whole time. I hardly take any. At the end of the class I'm still confused, and even more so when he gets up to leave without a word. Then he turns back and hands me a pile of paper. “Here,” he says. “I don’t think you were listening, so I took notes for you.”

  I blink at him, but take the five or so pages he offers. Then he smiles and walks out.

  My very first meeting with Bennett, and I have no idea how important that will turn out to be.

  SiX

  ______________________________________

  So I’m driving. Haven’t done it for a while. Dad’s lent me his thirty year old Ford truck and it’s taken me a while to work out the gears. Lucky its early morning and not many people are on the road, so my jerky slow movements aren't earning me any insults or blasting horns.

  I have to be home by mid morning. I’ve got another session with Gerry today. She’s decided we should call it my sessions, but I balked at calling her Dr Phil when she suggested it. She can be such a dork sometimes.

  I only managed to get a start on my story, when Dad interrupted us for dinner. I was tired anyway so we ended our session. I was kind of glad. The easy part done, it may take longer to do the rest, the hard bits. The bits I still don’t want to talk about.

  So I’m driving to Cam’s place. He and his mom live about two miles out of town. His dad was a crop farmer, not sure what his mom’s up to now he’s passed. It would be too much for her to run the whole place on her own. Hopefully I’ll be welcome long enough to find out.

  I hadn’t really planned on seeing Cam, but Dad thinks I need to thank him for helping me, and if I’m sticking around I need to woman up. Well, he didn’t actually use those words, but I got the impression that’s what he meant. Putting on my big girl pants this morning, I actually made it out of the house and I’m driving down the road out of town, the only road to Cam’s house.

  Not sure if he’ll see me, or talk to me. I’m kind of hoping if I’m in his house he’ll have no choice. He's nothing if not polite. My mom adored him and his adorable manners. He’s just the type mother’s love. Because he is so loveable. I bite my lip. Then I bite down harder. Loveable Cam. Yep, adorable loveable Cam. Who I let go. Who I turned down for a better life. Yeah well that turned out so well.

  Jokes on me I guess.

  I cough on a dark laugh as the open rickety wooden gates of Cam’s farm come into view. I’ve driven through these gates so many times. Times that were the best of my life. My mind flashes with those memories and a pain stabs my chest. God, I’m such an idiot to throw that all away, and for what?

  I want to kick myself. Wishing I could kick so hard that I’m thrown back to the past, so I can talk some sense into that stupid, idiotic girl. A girl who dreamed other’s dreams and was a coward to face what she really wanted, and who she really wanted to be with.

  The two storey farmhouse appears as I round the bend. It looks rundown from when I last remember. The green paint on the outside cracked, the grass long, humungous weeds in amongst the few flowering plants.

  Being so early I hope someone’s up. Cam’s mom, Elise is an early riser. Married to a farmer she had to be. I don’t suppose that’s changed, old habits die hard and all that.

  I park under the large oak tree to the side of the house and take a breath. I’ve made it this far, only a few more steps. I reach to wrench open the handle of the old work truck when I hear the light patter of footsteps. I look up to see bare feet quickly descend the front porch. Bare feet attached to long, endless legs, barely covered by cut off shorts, if they qualify as shorts. My eyes wander up further to see the tiniest top I’ve ever seen, another millimetre shorter and nothing would be left to the imagination. She’s carrying a sweater and shoes, like she woke up late and intends to get dressed on the hop.

  I can’t see her face, she's turned in the opposite direction, but I know who it is. Her distinctive yellow blonde hair tied in a scrunch of a messy bun, the wiggle in her hips. It has to be Jennifer Jameison. The girl everyone in school wanted to be, everyone but me and Gerry. She always had a thing for Cam. He was the only boy in school who didn’t buy into her looks and games. She did try though. I had to give her points for that. Set me up a few times, spread rumours, all that pleasant kind of high school stuff. Luckily Cam never bought any of it. Back then he only had eyes for me. He trusted and believed in me. He gave me his whole heart. A heart it seemed I had no trouble breaking.

  I never pictured he’d ever go for Jennifer Jaimeson, though. Of all the girls he could have hooked up with, I can’t believe he picked her. A flare of anger flames in my chest. My hand trembles on the door handle, my knuckles white from gripping it so tight.

  Get it together Bailey Ryan, I tell myself and close my eyes breathing deep.

  A car starts and I duck my head down as a red beetle speeds off in a cloud of dust. She obviously didn’t notice I’d parked here. There is a god of mercy shining down on me today. But now I’m not sure if I want to face Cam. I mean obviously the way he looks, and the way he is, he’d have offers every day. I thought he’d be more serious about it though, not into one night stands, allowing girls to creep out of his house, dressed in basically nothing, in the early hours of the morning.

  Maybe he’s changed. Maybe he’s into that now. Sowing his wild oats, an old expression my grandpa used to say. I check over my worn light denim jeans and gray sweat-shirt with calculate written across it. Bennett gave it to me and it usually makes me smile, like I’m an impossible equation to be worked out. But it doesn’t make me smile today as I think about Cam and those wild oats. He never got to sow anything when we were together, because well, there was only us. We didn’t need or want that freedom.

  To be honest I never wanted it. I just pretended I did. Pretended I could be that carefree, careless girl, the whole time my brain screaming, NO. Screaming to find Cam and go back to what we had.

  Now that’s spoiled. I spoiled it. I can’t play a blame game, because there isn’t one. I’m it. The only one to blame.

  The whistle of a kettle fills my ears and diverts my attention. Cam’s mom must be up.

  Come on suck it up Bailey girl.

  I yank on the handle and open the truck door, I know as soon as it slams shut there won’t be any turning back. So I do, it locks me in this moment, in this place.

  My feet don’t want to move but I drag them up the three front steps onto the porch. I’m surprised to see that the wooden boards have that pale newness, not yet painted, but it’s a neat repair job. The front door i
s open a gap, I don’t go in. I give a light knock and wait.

  I don’t wait long. Elise appears and opens the door wide. She hasn’t changed. Just like dad, she's trapped back in time. Her shiny black hair tied back in a long plait. Dressed in jeans and a crisp white blouse. Her blue eyes are scanning my face, then she smiles wide. “Bailey, hi honey, its lovely to see you. Come on in.”

  I want to hug her because she smells of home and Cam. I don’t though. Instead, I give her a small smile as I step inside. I also want to hug her because she isn’t kicking me out the door and yelling at me for hurting her son. Kind of what I expected and I’m wondering why she isn’t.

  She was so nice to me when Cam and I were together. Treated me like her own daughter. Maybe she forgave me, or maybe Cam’s moved on and she has too. Maybe I don’t matter anymore. My nails dig into my palms and I cross my arms over my stupid sweatshirt.

  She leads me to the kitchen. All the other doors are shut as we walk down the long corridor. I shiver a little as we pass Cam’s old bedroom. I’m not sure if he still sleeps in there, but seeing it, brings back a whole world of memories, and I quickly force them to the back of my mind. If I dwell too much, I’ll never get through this.

  When we reach the end she holds open the swing door for me, and I stop in my tracks and my mouth gapes open.

  Holy crap!

  The kitchen is unrecognizable. It’s all new with shiny metal counter tops and polished white oak cupboards. I so love this kitchen. It’s the kind of kitchen I always dreamed I’d have in my house. My house with Cam. That thought kicks me in the guts again. This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come here. It’s too hard. His mother all smiles, Jennifer Jaimeson creeping from his house. I blink back the tears. Tears I have no right to shed. Not here in his home, not here with his lovely mom, not here in this dreamy kitchen.

  I quickly wipe at my eyes and step further into the room.

  “Do you like it?” Elise asks. I can hear the anticipation in her voice behind me.

  I catch my breath and whisper, “It’s so beautiful. I love it.”

  She sighs, like she’s happy. “Cam did it.”

  Another twist of the knife. Of course he did. He’s been doing his apprenticeship in carpentry in Dad’s building company for the past two years. But unlike my dad he’s been practicing on his mom’s house. Another reason Dad wanted me to clear the air between us. Dad and him working together could be complicated if we don’t at least try and be civil.

  “Yes, he’s been doing really well,” she says, the pride evident in her voice, but I have a feeling she's not only talking about his carpentry. Ouch!

  “I’m really glad,” I lie.

  I mean I am glad. I want him to do well. I really do. But not so well, that he’s forgotten me. That’s horrible. I’m horrible. Stop it!

  “Do you want a coffee or a drink?” Elise asks.

  Do I? Probably not. “Yes, thank you. A coffee would be great.”

  “I’m glad you came. Your Dad said he’d ask you to.”

  Dad? What?

  Ah, now I get it. These two have been talking. No wonder she’s not surprised I’m here. Dad gave her the heads up.

  Figures.

  SeVeN

  ______________________________________

  I’ve been sitting in my dream kitchen with my almost mother in law for the past few minutes sipping my coffee and talking about insignificant stuff. We don’t mention anything unmentionable and it makes me a little uncomfortable. Not that I’d be comfortable with the unmentionable either. My legs are jiggling and I can't seem to stop them. I really hate it when they do that.

  Each time the second hand ticks on the oversized clock on the wall, it sends a small shock through my system, like its poking every one of my nerve cells. I’ve never been this on edge before. Well that’s not quite true. I have. But that was so different to this.

  Seeing Cam is all I’ve thought about for the past two years and now I’m here in his house, waiting for that moment and I all I can think about is running again.

  Such a coward, Bailey Ryan.

  His mom asks if I want more coffee, and I’m pretty sure I don’t, but once again say yes. It gives me something to say and gives her something to do. The coffee breaker. I almost crack a smile to myself, when I hear a crash from the other side of the door.

  “Mom, you moved that damn table again,” Cam says, nudging through the door, hopping on one bare foot, the other being rubbed by his large beautiful hands. My eyes are trained on them for a moment, as I recall those very same hands touching me. Shit. I’m not supposed to be thinking about that. I’m here for other reasons. To move on. Then his gorgeous blue eyes land on me and I forget all that. All I see is him and me. Me and him. No past. No lost two years.

  God I want him so bad right now.

  “Bailey, what ... what ...” he splutters, placing both feet on the ground and stretching to his full six foot height.

  I don’t know if I have a voice right now, but I need to say something. His mother is looking between us, like she’s waiting too.

  I swallow down a lump. “Hi, Cam.”

  He doesn’t say anything just continues to stare at me, then he blinks and looks at his mother who now has her eyes firmly set on him. There's worry there. Concern for him about seeing me, I guess.

  Hello. Maybe I do matter.

  That thought makes me a feel a little better, even though I know it shouldn’t. Even though I know I’m horrible and to blame and stupid and I hurt him. I still want to smile and latch on to that one thread of hope.

  There’s an uncomfortable silence, with so many silent conversations going on right now.

  Then I let my eyes trail over him. I swallow an even bigger lump. My brain registering, he doesn’t have a shirt on, his worn jeans hanging from his hips, his brown hair scruffy and messed. Bed hair. His arm pressed with red creases. Then I realize where those creases have come from. Jennifer Jaimeson's head has been lying there. Wrapped in his arms. The realization of knowing who he got that messy bed hair from, and who made those marks, crashes me back to earth and the bile rises in my throat. I swallow for the third time.

  Hold it together, Bailey.

  I start counting back from ten. Imagination in overdrive. I can’t manage to say anything. I’m angry, but I have no right to be. But I am. I really want to punch Jennifer Jaimeson right now. For a moment, I fantasize about finding her and doing just that, when Cam speaks.

  “Bailey, what are you doing here?”

  Not sure how to answer that question. I’m not really sure myself anymore.

  I bite my lip and clench my coffee mug. “Dad. Um, dad asked me to come see you.”

  Cam scoffs and shakes his head. “Right. Now I get it.”

  He doesn’t. He gets nothing.

  His mom hurries toward the door, muttering about washing or shopping or some other lame excuse. Come back, I want to yell. I don’t want to be here alone with him. There is too much hurt, too much pain, too much past and I don’t want to deal with it. This was a big mistake. We can never be fixed, we can never be civil.

  My leg’s jiggling so much I’m afraid it’s going to knock my cup off the table, but I try so hard to hide it. God, this is awful.

  Cam finds a pale blue shirt hanging over one of the kitchen chairs and stuffs his arms in it and buttons it up quickly. I try not to look. I keep my head down, but my eyes stray, wanting to betray me. Trained on him like an eagle on its prey. That has never changed. It probably never will. Once he was the same with me. Not now though. He’s looking everywhere except at me. Okay, so that stabs my gut, but maybe I need a dose of real time, it might make this easier.

  I allow myself to glance at him. He’s finished buttoning his shirt and reaches for a steaming coffee sitting on the table. Black with two. I know this, because I’ve made him hundreds of coffees. His mom must have made that for him, while my thoughts were elsewhere. I look at the clock but I can’t hear the ticking anymore, beca
use my ears are thundering with my racing heartbeat.

  “I… I … uh… wanted to thank you,” I manage to say.

  He crosses his arms and looks to the floor. “Thank me. What for?”

  I hate the tone in his voice—incredulous, laced with hurt and frustration. It brings back bad memories.

  ... Bailey, you can’t do this. You can’t go ...

  But I did. And that’s the crux of all this. This stuff between us. And yes there is so much more.

  However the truth is in that one moment. And it can’t, and won’t be forgotten. I know that for sure.

  I rise from the table on unsteady legs while Cam is still mesmerized by the floor.

  “Just thanks, Cam,” I say in a whisper.

  Because I am thankful. Thankful he loved me. Even if it was for a little while and not forever. I will always have that. It can’t be taken away from me like everything else.

  I suck in a sigh and turn toward the door. He hasn’t moved and I know he won’t.

  So I leave.

  Just like I did last time, except this time I’m walking and not running.

  eiGHT

  ______________________________________

  I’m having my next session at Gerry’s house today. She lives above the shop she part owns with her older sister.

  She told me business has been booming. Who’d of thought our little old backwater, Hicksville would become so popular. Just goes to show what a block buster can do for the local economy. I mean Gerry’s mom started their business, selling all kinds of hocus pocus stuff, but now with the release of the movie, Knowledge of the Hidden, the place has been crawling with all kinds of crazy folk, looking to solve the mystery of the Wicca Woods as we call them. Not sure of their official name, the proper plaque got knocked down years ago, and someone replaced it with a beaten up wooden plank, with Wicca Woods, painted in blood red paint. The town council didn’t make any effort to remove it, they actually approved, as it added to the mystery and attracted tourists to the area.

  The woods are scary, particularly knowing the history of the witch hunts, and the gruesome end those women faced in those woods. Brrrr, I feel the temperature drop. Always did creep me out. Cam and I went out there at midnight on a few dares, it terrified me, but Cam always made it fun and made me feel safe. Guess I won’t be going on anymore of those innocent adventures. Though Bennett did ask me to take him next time he visits. He loves all that spooky shit. Don’t think I will. It won’t be the same. That’s a memory I want just for me and Cam. A little treasure to tuck away and bring out on lonely nights.