A Field Guide for Heartbreakers

by Kristen Tracy

  MOM: Your father cut off his hand!

  ME: Off?

  MOM: Not off. I’ve got to go. Wrap a towel around it, Walter!

  Click.

  I hung up the phone. That exchange did little to comfort me. Plus, it had done nothing to further my relationship with my father. My ears still rang from my mother’s piercing cry of the word “blood.” I hoped things weren’t as bad as they sounded. At least my parents had health insurance. I’d call back later to check on them.

  Walking down the boulevard at Wenceslas Square, I wasn’t sure what Veronica could possibly say. That she actually hadn’t started dating Hamilton yet, but that she wanted my permission? Was she going to make some philosophical argument about love and destiny and the fickle heart? I tried to picture Veronica with Hamilton. It made me want to vomit.

  I spotted her right away, standing beside the statue wearing a pair of cute lavender shorts and a white T-shirt. She had her dark hair pulled back into a tidy ponytail, and she was smiling.

  “Thanks for coming,” she said, rushing toward me.

  I let her hug me, but I didn’t hug back.

  “I want to tell you everything,” she said. She took my hand and led me to a bench. I sat down next to her and remained stiff.

  “Can you not shoot daggers at me when I talk?” Veronica said. “It’s going to make this harder.”

  “Well, considering how I feel, I really can’t control what my eyes are doing,” I said.

  Veronica nodded. “I’m trying to figure out where to start.”

  I didn’t try to help her.

  “I mean, there’s this thing that happened three months before Prague, and then something happened a few days before we left, and then there’s stuff that’s happened while we’ve been here. I mean, there’s a lot of stuff to tell you.”

  I was stunned. Something had happened three months before Prague? What? A flirty letter? A phone call? A kiss? I grabbed my stomach.

  “Why don’t you just tell me how long you’ve been in love with Hamilton behind my back,” I said.

  Veronica’s jaw dropped; she stared at me with the bulging eyes of a truly flabbergasted person. “I’m not in love with Hamilton!”

  “I think you’re lying,” I said.

  “Dessy, what’s happening with me and Hamilton isn’t romantic in any way,” Veronica said. “In fact, it’s the opposite of that. I’ve only been in contact with him because I’m worried about you.”

  “Why did you tell him that the situation is hot?” I asked.

  “Because it is. This has turned into a freaking inferno!”

  I couldn’t disagree with that.

  “Okay,” Veronica said, “clearly you haven’t read his letter.”

  “I haven’t been able to gear myself up for that.”

  “After you hear what I have to say, you probably don’t even need to read it. It’s probably going to be very hurtful.”

  “His letter isn’t about getting back together, is it?” I asked.

  “No,” she said. “He’s going to admit that he was seeing somebody else.”

  Hearing it felt like somebody had dropped a piano on me. Followed by a series of bowling balls. And then jabbed pushpins into my already crushed heart. He wasn’t in love with Veronica. That was an enormous relief. But the one thing I didn’t want to believe about Hamilton Stacks turned out to be true. He was a cheater. A terrible, horrible, atrocious cheater.

  “Who?” I wiped tears from my cheeks.

  “He’s a real, genuine asshole, Dessy. They don’t make them any assier.”

  “Who?” I demanded.

  “Gloria Fitz.”

  I nearly tipped off the bench. Veronica reached out and stabilized me. I assumed the person would be some sort of brilliant scholar and fellow bird lover.

  “But she’s not even interesting!” I said. “She just follows around those other dips. She goes to the mall all the time. She’s nothing like Hamilton. I bet she doesn’t even recognize birds, let alone respect them.”

  “Trust me, those two will be busted up before Labor Day for sure.”

  But Labor Day was weeks away, and I wanted their relationship to disintegrate immediately. “When did they start dating?” I asked. “How did it happen?”

  “They were lab partners in anatomy and physiology. I suspect it happened when they dissected a starfish together,” she said. “It’s sort of an intimate endeavor. You have to sit very close for that. And share a scalpel.”

  My mind kept trying to picture Hamilton and Gloria together. But it couldn’t. Their features didn’t match. Their personalities were too different. They didn’t belong together, even in a mental image.

  “Weren’t you in that class?” I asked. “Didn’t you see this happening?”

  “No, not at all,” Veronica said. “I was busy dissecting my own starfish. Plus, I slept a lot in there. But we were always watching those films on reproduction. It makes sense in retrospect that a relationship could be kick-started in that environment, but I never suspected it was happening. I would have come to you right away if I had.”

  Veronica squeezed my hand several times. I believed her. I trusted that what she had said so far was the truth.

  “So when did you find out?” I asked.

  “It happened in a weird way,” Veronica said.

  “Did you walk in on them?” I asked.

  “Gross,” Veronica said. “Witnessing something that disgusting would probably render me blind.” She stuck out her tongue and let it hang there for a few seconds. “This is what happened. Back in February, I spotted Gloria zipping herself into some shapewear in the girl’s bathroom. I guess that’s how she fits into her jeans.”

  “She was standing in the middle of the girl’s bathroom zipping herself into a girdle?” I asked. That did seem weird.

  “Oh no,” Veronica said. “She was in a stall. I saw her through the crack.”

  “You peeked at her while she was in the stall?”

  “Yeah. After I heard this prolonged zipping sound, I had to know what was going on in there.”

  “Did she freak out when she saw you looking?” I asked.

  “No,” Veronica said. “She didn’t see me. Her back was to me. So I decided to have some fun with this. I sent her an e-mail and told her that I knew her secret. And then she sent me an e-mail begging me not to tell you.”

  “You’ve known since February that Gloria and Hamilton have been involved, and I’m only finding out in July?”

  “Relax,” Veronica said. “I thought she wanted me not to tell you about the shapewear. I didn’t know she was having a fling with your birdboy.”

  I hated it when Veronica referred to Hamilton as my “birdboy.” Before I found out about his infidelity, the title always struck me as unflattering to him. Now, knowing his true character, I felt the title reflected poorly on birds.

  “Why would I care about her shapewear?” I asked. “You never put two and two together?”

  Veronica leaned into me. “I thought you were her body-image doppelgänger.”

  “Huh?”

  “Her body-image doppelgänger. The person you know with your similar body type who you hold up as a point of constant comparison. In my defense, I think it was out of the realm of human comprehension that Hamilton would develop feelings for Gloria. By the way, Tonya Babbitt is my body-image doppelgänger. I’m constantly comparing my butt to her butt.”

  “I don’t want to hear about your butt issues right now, Veronica. Just tell me. When did you know?” I asked.

  “Not until right before we left. Something I saw at the mall triggered the realization.”

  “What was that?”

  “Her earrings. Nobody buys duck earrings except for people who are trying to manipulate other people by tricking them into thinking that they like ducks. When I laid eyes on her cheap silver quackers instead of her cheap diamond studs, it all clicked. That’s why I had that meltdown at the mall. And I’ve been blackmailing her about
the shapewear ever since. She’s so shallow.”

  “So why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.

  “I thought the best strategy would be to get you interested in a new guy,” Veronica said. “Even before I knew Hamilton was a cad I thought that was the way to go. After I found out, I felt really stuck. I didn’t want to spoil your first trip to Europe by telling you that your first shithead boyfriend broke up with you because he fell for a twit. I couldn’t do that to you.”

  “So why was Hamilton calling you?” I asked.

  “Oh, Dessy”—Veronica scooted closer to me—“when you told me that he was sending you something, I thought he might be trying to get back together with you. So I called him and told him to leave you alone. Then last week when you told me that Hamilton had broken up with you because of your flaws, and that he’d given you a laminated list of them, I thought I was going to die. I went straight down to the lobby and called him.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him that he was an asshole and that I had intercepted his first letter and was throwing it away and he needed to write you a second letter and admit that he was wrong and that you were really great. And that your flaws weren’t bad. And he was sorry for saying they were. And that he wanted to talk to you when you got home. And if he didn’t, I threatened to spam all the Dartmouth incoming freshmen with evil lies about him that would impede his ability to have friends or function in a social setting.”

  “That’s what’s in my letter?” I asked.

  “I don’t know what’s in that thing,” Veronica said. “He mailed it between my messages. He’s become completely unglued these days. I think he and Gloria are experiencing rocky times.”

  “Well, that’s not surprising,” I said. “Two cheaters can’t build a solid union.”

  “Exactly,” Veronica said. “Plus, he’s been talking about how much he misses you. I was worried that he might try to patch things up with you. And because you didn’t know the truth, I thought you might go for it. And I thought you should keep your options open and play the field. You know, experience Prague.”

  I looked into Veronica’s perfect face. Ten minutes ago I’d thought she was a terrible friend. Now I knew she was a terrific friend. She cared about me. And in her own flawed way, tried to protect me from life’s cruel blows.

  “Should I even bother reading the letter?” I asked.

  “That’s your call,” Veronica said.

  “I think I should.”

  “Maybe you could read it to me,” she suggested.

  I looked around the crowded boulevard and back to Veronica. “I think I should do this on my own.”

  “Really?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  “Are you still mad at me?” she asked.

  “No,” I said. “Are you still mad at me?”

  “Well,” Veronica said, “what happened with Waller’s story still bugs me. But I think my story is much better than his, so I’m okay with it.”

  “I never said the word foxes. He came up with that on his own,” I said.

  “I think we should just put a period there and move on,” she said.

  “Okay,” I said.

  We sat and watched the tourists milling around at the top of the square. Many of them had their cameras out and were viewing the city through the small viewfinder or LCD screen. I thought of my own camera—both of them—back in the dorm.

  I looked down at the ground, where a line of ants streamed toward a cookie. They were dangerously close to Veronica’s toes. When she saw them, she immediately began stomping the ants. Even after she’d killed most of them, she didn’t stop. Her face was wrinkled in determination.

  I reached out and touched her knee. “You got them.”

  Her face relaxed and she pulled out a small piece of paper from her back pocket. “I have a list of things I have to do this weekend.”

  “We’ll be hanging out together again, right?” I asked.

  Veronica bit her lip and squealed a little. “Do you want to go out with Alexej and his friend tomorrow? We’re going to take a boat ride. I promise you it will be amazing. Picture us, drifting in the Vltava beneath the stars.”

  Veronica’s face looked totally blissed out.

  “What time?” I asked.

  She didn’t respond.

  “Veronica,” I said.

  She reached out and grabbed my arm. “I’ve been dreaming about him.” She tossed her head back. “He’s really got me. He’s the one hot-dude who just keeps getting hotter. Dessy. I have found my soul hot-dude!”

  This news set off all kinds of alarm bells. “So now that you’ve found your soul hot-dude, have you stopped looking for other hot-dudes?”

  “Not really. It’s like they call to me.” Veronica’s face lit up like a porch light. “You’re not going to believe this, but the man-wall is up to ninety-four hot-dudes.”

  She was right. I couldn’t believe it. That was way too many hot-dudes.

  “You’re having too much fun with this,” I said. “What about Boz? Can you imagine what it feels like for him every time you send him another picture of you with a hot-dude?”

  Veronica’s smile fell away. “Oh, I stopped sending him pictures of me with hot-dudes eons ago. I just sent the first couple. You were right. He got way too hurt by it, so I stopped. His second e-mail to me was a real flamer.”

  I couldn’t believe that Veronica was surprised by Boz’s response. She was lucky he’d responded to her at all. “If you really love Boz, you should probably focus on fixing your relationship and not pursuing Alexej or any other hot-dude.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “But you’ve got to remember, he hurt me too.”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  Veronica looked past me like she was contemplating something. “After my date with Alexej, I’ll call Boz and mend things.”

  “If he still wants to mend things,” I said.

  “Of course he will. He loves me.”

  “It just seems dangerous to play with somebody’s heart like this,” I persisted.

  “Dessy, I’m not saying this to be mean, I’m saying this to be honest. All you ever do is choose the smart and safe option, and look at where it’s gotten you.”

  Her words stung, mostly because they were accurate. “I think you like being mean,” I said.

  Veronica didn’t object.

  “Also, sometimes you’re selfish,” I said.

  Veronica bumped me with her shoulder. “That’s not true. I’m a giver.”

  “You didn’t stay for my workshop.”

  Suddenly, it bothered me all over again that Veronica had left at such an important moment of my life.

  “Listen, I’m sorry I missed it. My mom said you refused feedback.”

  “I only refused the verbal kind. I took the written ones home.”

  Veronica put her arm around me. “But your story was really good. It’s funny. But it’s also super sad.”

  This wasn’t the response I’d been expecting. “You think my story is super sad?”

  That seemed like a weird thing to say, because nobody dies. And by the end, the main character ends up getting back together with her boyfriend.

  “They should have stayed broken up,” Veronica said. “They were a terrible fit for each other. I thought it was sad that she couldn’t realize that.”

  “She loves him,” I said. “She’s not ready to break up with him. She wants to get to Guatemala.”

  “Yeah, but by page three it’s obvious that she should give up on him and Guatemala. You can tell that she’s going to have a hard life. That she’s not strong enough to be happy without Tag.”

  “You’re overanalyzing it,” I said. “It’s a story about first love. She’s supposed to be a little blind.”

  “That’s why blind people shouldn’t drive to Guatemala,” Veronica said.

  “Do you mean that metaphorically?” I asked.

  “Maybe,” she said.

  “I thought your
story was perfect,” I said.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, because the fox in the trap was suffering so much. Because he wants freedom and love. And while he gets love sort of when the other fox stops by to hump, he never gets freedom. And he knows this.”

  “Actually, the fox stuck in the trap is the girl,” Veronica said.

  I felt bad that I’d gotten that wrong.

  “When I started, I thought my story was sort of a joke. Two foxes screwing each other. Ha-ha. But when I really focused on the foxes and described them and understood what motivated them, I realized that my story was really about determination.”

  “Determination to screw?”

  “No, determination to connect with something other than yourself. Also, determination to experience joy. That’s what motivated my foxes, especially the one in the trap that’s going to die.”

  “Sounds intense.”

  “Well, it is intense. Because at the end of the day, our experiences matter. What we’ve allowed ourselves to risk and to feel, those things are important.”

  I thought about this idea. It made sense. Then I heard sniffling. Veronica was crying.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked.

  “This is why my father left.”

  I had no idea what she meant, so I waited for her to continue.

  “He wanted to experience more joy in life. And living in Ohio with me and my mom didn’t bring him enough joy. So now he’s screwing a twenty-four-year-old named Maria in Rome.”

  “What?” I was shocked. “Are you sure?”

  “I walked in on them.”

  “Oh my god!”

  “Not as it was happening. I walked in after it had happened. Both of them were in bed under the sheets. They thought I was at the Pantheon, but I’d forgotten my purse, so I came back.”

  “What did your dad say?”

  “At first he yelled to get out because they weren’t decent. Then he begged me not to tell my mom.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I didn’t want to make it any more true than it already was. I’d hoped the whole ordeal could somehow be reversed.”

  “Are you ever going to tell your mom?”

  “I think I have to. I’m just not sure when. I don’t think she suspects anything like this.”