A Field Guide for Heartbreakers

by Kristen Tracy

  “This is awful,” I said. “For everyone.”

  Tears continued to slip down her cheeks. “Yeah. I used to think that my mom could have done something more. I still think she should have tried. But she probably knew that in the end, he was going to leave regardless of anything she did.”

  “That’s probably right,” I said. “Are you still going to visit your dad after Prague?”

  “I’ll visit him. He’s my dad. I can’t just cut him loose because he behaves like an idiot. That’s not how life works. I’m sure we’ll both keep at it until one of us dies.”

  I hated thinking that life was filled with so much work.

  “I tried to call my dad today,” I said. “My mom answered, but I said I wanted to speak to him. I’ve never done that before.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I didn’t get to talk to him,” I said. “He had an accident with the lawn mower.”

  “What happened to Stewart?”

  “He raised his prices.”

  “That’s too bad. Stewart has a nice ass.”

  I thought about my father, sitting on the couch watching television. There was so much distance between us.

  “Veronica, what you said about that Triad book really scares me.”

  “Don’t be scared. I’m beginning to think that author is kind of an idiot. I mean, lots of people don’t even have dads. Plus, she really can’t write. And I don’t even think she has a degree in anything.”

  “Wow. So you think I still might have a chance at connecting with a decent guy?”

  “Absolutely. You just need to be really self-aware. And I think you’re totally getting there.”

  I let out a deep breath. “I’m going to read Hamilton’s letter now.”

  Veronica turned to me. “Okay, Dessy, but afterward we need to go out. Seriously. No more wasting valuable Prague time. I mean it. Let’s dance till we die.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You have to. I insist. Go ahead and read Hamilton’s stinky letter. Then come back to the dorm. I’ll help you get ready. You can’t sulk forever.”

  “I’m not sulking. This is pretty significant news that really alters my recent heartbreak status.”

  Veronica touched her heart. “Heartbreak. It’s unavoidable and it sucks worse than the power of a billion vacuums. But read the letter and then throw it away. I mean it. Then come out with me.” She winked and flashed a devilish grin. “It’s time to recycle that heart.”

  Veronica hugged me with one arm and then she got up and left. I watched her until the speck of her lavender shorts faded into a crowd of happy people. Hamilton’s letter was in my back pocket. I pulled it out and unfolded it. What had Hamilton written to me? How much had he chosen to confess? What if he’d sent me this powerfully worded apology. Could I forgive that kind of betrayal? I didn’t think so. But I needed to read the letter before I made any big decisions.

  I carefully tore open the envelope and fished out the letter. It wasn’t anything fancy. Hamilton had typed a few short sentences.

  Dessy, I need to tell you something, but I don’t know how. Veronica knows what it is. Ask her.

  At the bottom, he’d written something in pen.

  I’m sorry I was so hard on you. One day I hope we can be friends. You were always made of awesome.

  I almost puked on the letter. Not only was my first boyfriend an asshole, but he was also an absolute coward. He wanted my best friend to make his vile confession for him. I crumpled the letter into a ball and became obsessed with finding a trash can. I ran along a row of outdoor cafés. People sat drinking coffee. Chatting. Reading. Living. Outside of myself, the world was functioning normally. But inside of myself, something had exploded.

  When I caught a glimpse of the first available trash can, I nearly knocked over a toddler to get to it. Tossing the letter into a random overflowing garbage container made me feel amazingly good. It helped me arrive at a certain level of acceptance.

  Let Hamilton date Gloria. Let them fail at love together. And then let them fail with the next person after that. In their hearts they would always know they were cheaters. They’d both crossed that line. Given the choice between honesty and dishonesty, they’d allowed themselves to select the most selfish option. And given the opportunity, would they do it again? They probably didn’t even know. I hoped that question haunted them. I hoped that it hovered over all their romantic entanglements, making future relationships feel jeopardized and unstable. Hamilton Stacks. Gloria Fitz. I had nothing more to say.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  I came back to the dorm at six o’clock. Veronica already had my clothes laid out for me: her black shirt, decorated with round, crystal buttons; my best pair of jeans; a silver belt I’d never seen before; and sandals.

  “Once I make your eyes dramatic, the outfit will look even more spectacular.”

  “Whose belt?”

  “Yours. I bought it for you. Consider it a souvenir from Prague.”

  So in an act of total trust I surrendered my face to Veronica. For thirty minutes she used specialized brushes to apply various powders and creams. When she was finished she asked me to close my eyes, and then she blew on my face.

  “Here’s a mirror,” she said.

  I took it and opened my eyes and saw the result of her labor. My eyes looked smoky and my lips were frosty plum. But the makeover wasn’t so dramatic that I didn’t look like myself. I still looked like Dessy Gherkin, just really, really hot.

  “What about my hair?” I asked.

  “Bend over and fluff it and I’ll hit it with some medium-hold spray.”

  I did what she told me, and the smell and taste of the aerosol made me cough.

  “Close your mouth,” Veronica said.

  When I flipped my head back up, my hair resettled itself around my face.

  “And the heartbroken has officially become a heartbreaker.” She touched my shoulder and made sizzle sounds. “Are you ready?” she asked, grabbing a wad of cash.

  “Totally.”

  When we boarded the metro I didn’t even bother looking for a seat. I stood next to a pole and held on, just like the people in the movies. When the train lurched at stops, my body didn’t jerk forward like it usually did. I had a newfound fluidity.

  “You look like a rock star,” Veronica said as we stepped off the metro.

  I could feel eyes on me. Normally, this would have freaked me out. But I didn’t let it tonight. When men glanced at me, sometimes I glanced back at them, and sometimes I looked over their heads. I felt tall. I walked through the city center with my head held unusually high.

  “You look cocky,” Veronica said. “I love it!”

  At the dance club I got nervous when I saw the snaking line out front. There were girls in amazing skirts. Guys in leather pants. A lot of them had movie-star hair and flashy accessories. One guy looked like he was wearing a python around his shoulders. I stopped.

  “That’s Radek. Relax. His snake is a fake,” Veronica said.

  The music pulsed out of the club’s open black door. “We’re not old enough. They’ll never let us in,” I said.

  Veronica gave me some money for the cover charge. “You look like a hot grad student. Seriously. You’re so hot you’re surreal. And they’ve already let me in nine times.”

  “Nine?”

  “Dancing really mellows me out.” Veronica began bobbing her head and swinging her arms.

  “Wait till we get inside,” I said.

  “Why?” She swayed and circled her hips.

  It was my turn to approach the bouncer. I tried to hand him my money. “For you, free tonight,” he said.

  “Thanks!” Veronica said as she passed me and pulled me into the club.

  The music was loud and powerful. The techno beat pounded us as we stomped rhythmically on the hard, scuffed floor. Laser lights shot through the air. Green. Red. Blue. And rotating mirror balls splashed rainbow flashes of light around the room. My body gre
w hot and sticky. I found myself making bolder moves, just to try to catch some breeze. I was glad I had short hair. Veronica must have felt like she was wearing a blanket on her head. She grinned viciously at me.

  “Your legs are as long as a camel’s!”

  I pointed to my legs and then spun my body around. Veronica began to laugh so hard that she stopped dancing. I didn’t think that things could get any better. But they did. A group of guys was making their way over to Veronica and me. Soon I was dancing with a cute dark-haired guy with smooth, tan skin and amazing brown eyes.

  “I’m Dessy!” I yelled over the music.

  “Ronaldo!” he yelled back. He really owned his dance style. He wiggled his butt to the bass line and swung his head dramatically.

  “Where are you from?”

  “Spain! You?”

  “I’m from Ohio! It’s in the U.S.”

  We danced until Ronaldo had to leave with his friends. He wrote his number for me on a napkin. Then Caine showed up. He was from New York. He was skinny and had blue eyes. And he danced so hard that I thought he might rip his pants, especially when he dropped in semi-splits down to the floor. After Caine there was Telfer. After Telfer, I just felt like dancing with my friend.

  The music didn’t have lyrics, but that didn’t stop Veronica.

  “Melt me! Melt me! Melt me!” she chanted.

  “Are you singing about Alexej?” I asked, frowning.

  Veronica executed an energetic hopping maneuver that left her breathless. “One more date,” she puffed. “Just let me see Alexej one more time. For the memories. Boz is my anchor. I know that.”

  Melt me. Melt me. Melt me.

  I was having such a good time that I decided to agree. “Okay. One more time. For the memories.”

  Veronica threw her arms up over her head and danced like that for a while. I danced until I forgot about everything. I spun and shook and swayed until my whole body hummed. By the night’s end, I was so tired that I wanted to hire somebody to drag me home. We walked out of the club and I sat down on the curb.

  “We did it!” Veronica said. “We danced till we died!”

  “I. Need. Bed.”

  Veronica stood over me. “Does this mean that you’re done?”

  I looked up at her and closed my eyes.

  “Okay, okay.” Veronica reached down and patted my head. “Taxi!” She stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled like a drill sergeant.

  A small yellow cab pulled up, and we climbed inside. Stars and street lights blazed above us in the inky sky. Out my window I watched the city stand still as we zoomed through its boulevards of monstrous and spectacular buildings. I was in Prague. I had just had one of the best nights of my life.

  * * *

  Back at the dorm, Veronica insisted that we at least take a detour to our room.

  “We look too hot to just go to bed,” she said. “It would be unfair to the guys.”

  That’s when I spotted him. The one hot-dude I most wanted to see and least wanted to see, and had sort of been thinking about all evening. Roger.

  He was sitting in the back lounge, reading White Teeth by Zadie Smith.

  “Night, night.” Veronica shoved me through the lounge doorway and disappeared.

  “Dessy,” Roger said, sitting up straight. “Wow, what time is it?”

  “I have no idea,” I said. It was around 2:30, but I wanted him to stay. “Let’s talk.”

  “Sure. So, how are things going?”

  “Things are great.” I took a seat beside him and leaned forward to let him know that I was very interested in everything he had to say.

  “Have you resolved everything with Corky?”

  “Basically, she’s still threatening me with bodily harm, but I’m not going to let that ruin my last week in Prague.”

  “Dessy, are you serious? I can’t tell.”

  “As a heart attack. I’ll be relying on you to save me once I’ve shown you the distress symbol.”

  “Which is?” Roger laughed and set down his book, which made me feel like I was making considerable progress.

  “Good point,” I said. “We need to pick a symbol.”

  I took hold of his hand and drew a circle with a dot in it.

  It seemed basic enough. And it gave me a legitimate reason to slide my fingers across his skin.

  “And if you don’t get there in time to save me, I’ll make sure to draw the symbol next to my body so that you’ll know Corky was responsible for my demise.” Then I pulled my hands back, because not letting go of his hand felt a little forward.

  “That’s pretty morbid,” Roger said, still smiling.

  “That’s a good word for Corky.”

  “So what did you guys do tonight? You look like you just came from a dance club.”

  I smiled. “I did. And it was awesome. Do you like jungle music?”

  “I don’t know what jungle music is.”

  I tried to imitate the sounds from the club. “Bom. Bom. Ta. Ta. Naha. Naha. Bom. Bom.”

  “I didn’t know you drank.”

  “I haven’t been drinking! I’ve been living. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.”

  Roger put his head in his hands. “Waller says that all the time. It drives me nuts. We’re not even twenty, Dessy.”

  This wasn’t going as well as I’d hoped. I decided to change gears. “Wanna go for a walk? I’ll show you a pub that still has a watermark from the big flood. Have you heard about Gaston the sea lion?”

  “It’s kinda late to head out to Malá Strana. We’d probably get mugged.”

  “Okay, okay. But at least let me tell you about Gaston the sea lion.” I scooted over closer to him. “I’m pretty sure it was 1980. And it wouldn’t stop raining in Prague.”

  Roger shook his head. “Gaston died in the flood of 2002. Did Waller tell you this story? Because I’m the one who told it to him.”

  I licked my lips. “Then tell me the story. I’m sure he got the whole thing wrong.”

  “Dessy, it’s late. I think I’m ready for bed.”

  “Oh, don’t be like that.” I reached over and took his book away from him. “Let’s stay and talk.”

  “You’re acting weird.”

  “Weird, how?”

  “You’re acting like Veronica.”

  I got the feeling that he was insulting me, so I handed him his book back. He stood up and started walking toward the door. I crumbled into my chair.

  “Aren’t you going to go back to your room?” he asked.

  I nodded. I felt like I’d blown everything. I’d had a great opportunity to bond with my hot-dude, and now he was leaving and we hadn’t bonded at all.

  Roger lingered in the doorway. “Hey, Dessy?”

  I looked up at his cute, honest face.

  “You don’t need to act like this to get attention,” he said.

  I wasn’t sure what he meant, but it certainly wasn’t an invitation. So I stood up to leave. He held the lounge door open, and I passed through it. Then I started to drift toward my staircase and he started to drift toward his.

  “Good night, Roger,” I called after him.

  He turned around. “Good night, Dessy.”

  I reluctantly headed toward my room, and then I heard Roger say something else. “I like your belt.”

  I flipped around to look at him again, but he’d already turned the corner and was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  I slept extremely late the next day. When I woke up, well after noon, Veronica was long gone. But I was thrilled to see that the man-wall had been stripped of all its hot-dudes. Finally, Veronica had come to her senses.

  As six approached, I did my final primping and high- tailed it to the statue like the loyal friend I was. My excitement level dropped considerably when I saw that Veronica was wearing a black dress and strappy sandals. I was in my traditional jeans and T-shirt.

  “You look great!” she said.

  “I look like I’m about to go on a hike, and you look l
ike you’re ready to go to the governor’s ball. I thought we were going on a boat ride.”

  Veronica nodded, making her voluminous and overly coifed hair slide into her face. “Yeah, but I think it’s the kind of boat ride where they serve champagne and little sandwiches.”

  “I’m not dressed for that!” I said. “I thought we were going to go out in paddleboats.”

  Veronica grimaced. “Why would I want to subject myself to a paddleboat? Who wants to get that close to an Eastern European river? Gross. Isn’t that what started the big plague?”

  “No,” I said. “Paddleboats didn’t start the plague.”

  “You’re so funny,” she said. “I meant the river.”

  I rolled my eyes like that was a stupid comment, but stopped midroll when I realized that I wasn’t sure whether or not the river had assisted in the dissemination of the plague.

  Veronica walked up and gave me a big hug. “I’m so glad we patched things up. I hate it when we don’t get along.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “But don’t you think it feels like we’ve still got some patching left to do?”

  “No.”

  We found our bench from yesterday and sat down so we could watch the new horde of tourists that had flocked to the square. Veronica’s bare shoulders looked incredibly creamy and petite in her black dress.

  “Your shoulders do make you look older,” I said.

  “I know. I’ve somehow managed to develop the shoulders of a twenty- or possibly twenty-five-year-old. It’s great.”

  I continued to search the crowd. There were so many people walking around on a Tuesday evening. It made me curious about their lives. What were their jobs? Were they all tourists? Why had they chosen to come to Prague?

  “Do you want to know one of my favorite things about this city?” Veronica asked.

  “What?” I asked.

  “The smell of bread.”

  I inhaled deeply, but I couldn’t detect the aroma of anything freshly baked in the air.

  “I just smell city stuff,” I said.

  “Yeah, but when you walk past a bakery you smell bread.”