Only Love Can Break Your Heart

by Katherine Webber

  “Whatever. Yeah, him. Seth is like him. He just wanted to be close to your family. And what you guys represent.”

  “Dre, what are you talking about?”

  “Like, if we were back to Pride and Prejudice time, he’d totally be marrying up. To improve his station and all that.”

  “Yeah, but we’re not in Pride and Prejudice time,” I say. “We’re in our time. And it isn’t like we were anywhere close to getting married.”

  “Times change but people don’t.” She sounds like a talk-show host. I roll my eyes and toss my pizza crust at her.

  She catches it and takes a bite. “Rei, I don’t think he saw you. I think he saw some kind of dream girl who represented the life he wanted. And when shit got real, when you got real – when you screwed up – he couldn’t deal.” She pauses. “I think you both maybe fell for each other for the wrong reasons. Like you fell for him because he was so into you, and there’s something pretty potent about that.” When I go to protest, she holds up her hand. “It wasn’t just that for you, I know. He also … took you away from yourself, I think. From things you didn’t want to think about.”

  “That makes it sound like I was just using him or something.”

  “Well, were you?”

  I think about it. “Not on purpose,” I admit. “I liked how he made me feel about myself. Or at least I used to. Now he makes me feel like crap. But…” I hesitate.

  “You were pretty shitty to him sometimes?” says Dre with a wry smile.

  “I was getting to that,” I say. Dre doesn’t even know the half of it: how I made him stay up in my room when Libby came over. Or how I used to tease him, on purpose, over the summer, because it gave me such a thrill. “I didn’t mean to be, though. I kind of got swept up in it all – in the fact that he was into me, like you said.” In the feeling of having power over him. It strikes me how wrong that was.

  “I’m sure you didn’t mean to be nasty,” Dre says, nodding. “And he’s definitely been super shitty to you too.” I know she’s letting me off the hook because she’s my best friend, and I’m grateful, but I know I shouldn’t have treated Seth the way I did.

  “I wish you’d talked to me about all of this,” Dre says. She pauses. “Sometimes I think it was about more than Seth, Rei-Rei.”

  I know what she’s referring to. Who she is referring to.

  “Maybe,” I admit for the first time, but that makes me feel uncomfortable too. It makes me think that I was just using Seth to forget about Mika. But it wasn’t just that and it wasn’t just that I liked the attention. I liked him too. More than liked him. “It was a lot about Seth too. Not just … about … you know…” I let my voice trail off because even with Dre, even after all these years, I can’t say Mika’s name out loud. “I think I really did … love him. In a way.”

  “You loved a version of him. He loved a version of you.”

  “Isn’t that true about everyone, though? We’re all only versions of ourselves.”

  Dre raises her eyebrows. “Getting pretty deep there, Rei-Rei.”

  I nudge her with my shoulder. “Hey, you started it.”

  “You know I’m always here to discuss deep philosophical crap with you. Hey! Maybe I’ll major in Philosophy.”

  “Dre?”

  “Uh-oh, I know that tone. Are you about to get all cheesy on me? I got plenty of cheese on my pizza.”

  “Just, thanks.”

  “Rei, baby doll, you don’t ever have to thank me for being here. I always will be, all right?”

  I smile back at her but feel a sharp twinge inside my chest.

  Because nobody is always there.

  CHAPTER 49

  One night in November, I’m in my room watching a video on how to do a reverse fishtail braid when there is a knock on my door.

  It’s my dad.

  “Hey, Dad,” I say. “Everything OK?”

  “Yep! All good. I just wanted to come … say hi. See how you’re doing. Feels like it has been a while since we talked.” He’s standing awkwardly in my doorway, so I get up from my vanity table and sit on my bed.

  “You can come in, you know,” I say with a smile.

  He comes in and perches next to me at the end of my bed. “So … how are you doing?” he says.

  “I’m fine,” I say automatically.

  “You know, your mom and I are always here, if you need anything.”

  I nod.

  “I also wanted to see … if you’d had a chance to apply to Tokyo and Temple?”

  “A-ha! The real reason you came in here.”

  My dad holds up his hands. “Not true! I really did want to check on you.”

  “All right, fine, I believe you.”

  “But I also wanted to make sure you’d applied. I checked online and the deadline is in a couple of days.”

  “Dad, I don’t know… I said I’d think about it.”

  “Remember, Reiko, applying isn’t committing.” Then he gives me a big cheesy grin. “And think how happy it would make me!”

  I roll my eyes. He knows I can’t say no to that. “Fine. I’ll apply, OK?”

  “Wonderful! Do you want help with the applications?”

  “I’ll get started and I’ll let you know if I need any help,” I say, smiling despite myself. He’s practically giddy. “This doesn’t mean I’m going to go, even if I do get in. I don’t want to go to Japan anytime soon, you know that.”

  He nods, scanning my bookshelf. “I remember when you used to want to go to Japan,” he says, taking something out. It’s my “Japan” scrapbook. It was tucked between my old yearbooks. “I think you remember too.” His tone is more serious now. “I think you’ll be glad you applied.” He puts the scrapbook down next to me.

  My initial instinct is to throw it in my closet, under my bed, but I force my panic down and smile at my dad.

  He gives me a kiss on the forehead. “I love you, Reiko. And I’m proud of you.”

  “I love you too, Dad.”

  After he leaves, I flip through the scrapbook, remembering what it felt like to want to go to Japan.

  I’m working on the application a few hours later when Mika peeks over my shoulder. “Are you really applying to the University of Tokyo?”

  I slam my laptop shut.

  “I heard you and Dad,” she says, climbing up in bed with me. “You don’t have to hide it.”

  “Are you upset?” I ask.

  Mika frowns. “Not upset exactly. Just a little jealous. But, Reiko, I want you to be happy. I want you to go to Japan if you want to.”

  “But … you are always saying that you don’t want me to leave you.”

  “You have to leave me sometime. I just wish I could go with you. Especially if you go to Japan.” She sounds wistful, but not sad.

  “I wish that too,” I say. “So … what do you think I should do?”

  “I think you should definitely apply to the University of Tokyo. And Temple! You can do it for me.”

  “But…”

  “I’d be proud of you if you got in,” she says. “So would Dad.”

  “Yeah, he would be,” I say. And then I laugh. “He’s such a dork. Did you see him in here? Pretending he was just casually popping by.”

  “Dad is really great,” says Mika, curling up under my arm.

  “I know he is.”

  “And Mom is really great too.”

  “I know.”

  “And so is Koji.”

  “I’m sensing a theme, Mika.”

  “You are great too, Rei-Rei.”

  I squeeze her shoulder. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Mika.”

  She doesn’t reply.

  We sit together in silence for a long time.

  WINTER

  CHAPTER 50

  By the time winter break rolls around, I can’t wait to not have to see Seth’s face every day at school. Switching to the same classes as him was a horrible idea and has completely backfired. I’m stuck witnessing his continued t
ransformation into some cool guy. Some guy I don’t even recognize. And, to make it worse, he and Libby are always all over each other: making out in the parking lot, up against the lockers. It all feels like such a production. Like a show. It makes me wonder if that is what Seth wanted from me.

  It makes me wonder if we were both using each other all along and I never saw it till now.

  I know there are going to be parties every night of break, but I can’t stomach going. Especially because Andrea is going to be in Mexico with her mom and sister, so I’d be all alone. I notice that I’m pointedly not invited to Libby’s New Year’s Eve party. Not that I expected to be, or even care. Ever since what happened in the parking lot, we mostly avoid each other. I can’t believe we used to be so close.

  I’ve never felt like this before.

  My confidence is molting off of me like feathers on a bird, and I feel naked without it.

  I’m in the kitchen the first Wednesday afternoon of winter break, eating pancakes while I scroll through my phone, when my mom storms in. “Reiko,” she says, her voice a warning.

  “What?” I say, without looking up.

  “Your grades came in.”

  Shit. With everything going on, I forgot that the school sends alerts to our parents when our grades are available.

  And mine have slipped.

  Seriously slipped.

  Part of the reason my parents have always given me so much freedom is because I’ve always done what is expected of me. I get good grades, don’t get into any serious trouble (with a capital T, like get arrested or pregnant or something). Another reason is because a therapist told them to let me process what happened in my own way. And then the secret reason is they live in their own bubble, apart from me and Koji. Floating above us.

  “What happened?” my mom says.

  I shrug. “It isn’t a big deal. Your senior year grades don’t even matter.”

  “Of course they matter! They are the last grades schools see!”

  “Mom, I’ve had a four point oh all through high school. One bad report card isn’t going to ruin my life.”

  “Reiko, you’ve just completely tanked your GPA with these grades. Do you even know how bad they are?”

  “It’s fine,” I say. “I’ll pull them back up next semester.”

  “It’s not fine,” my mom says. “It isn’t the grades, Reiko. It’s why they’ve slipped this much that’s worrying me. You haven’t been yourself. I thought … I thought we were doing the right thing, leaving you be. That it was what was best for you. But now, with this whole thing over this boy—”

  “Seth. He has a name.” My voice is flat. I don’t want to talk about Seth.

  “Whatever his name is! I don’t know what has been happening to you recently. It isn’t healthy, Reiko − how you’ve been.”

  “I’m fine, Mom,” I say, willing her to stop talking about this. “It’s fine.”

  “No, Reiko, it isn’t. We pretend it is, but it isn’t.” We’re teetering close close close, too close to what we never talk about: Mika.

  I blink furiously and take a big swig of orange juice to distract myself. But there’s a lump in my throat and the orange juice can’t get past it so I start to cough, start to choke, I can’t breathe—

  … another wave smashing my face. Water rushing down my throat…

  My mom is there in an instant, rubbing my back, worry etched on her face. Making soft sounds. Holding me.

  “Shhh,” she says. “You’re OK, you’re OK. Deep breaths, remember.” And then, like she thinks I might have forgotten how: “You can breathe. There we go, in and out. Slowly. You’re OK.”

  I’m OK, I’m OK, I’m OK.

  After I catch my breath, my mom sits down next to me. “That … didn’t go how I wanted it to,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too,” I say, voice small small small. It doesn’t sound like me at all.

  “You’ve always done so well in school. I didn’t realize how much this … Seth,” she says his name carefully, like it’s a grenade that could go off between us, “I didn’t realize how much he meant to you.”

  “I didn’t either,” I say.

  “I should have noticed sooner. I should have done something.” And now I don’t know if she’s talking about Seth or Mika.

  I give her a watery smile. “It’s OK,” I say.

  It’s OK, it’s OK, it’s OK.

  “I think we all say that too much.” She gives a watery smile. It’s true. We’re always fine in my family, even when we’re not.

  “Were you going out?” I ask, noticing for the first time that she has her coat on.

  “Yes. Same place I go every Wednesday afternoon. The care home in Palm Desert.”

  “What? Why?”

  She laughs. “Because, Reiko,” she says, arching one eyebrow, “sometimes it’s nice to do something for someone else.”

  I feel guilty then because it reminds me of my conversation with Dre, about how I treated Seth, and not just him: how I sometimes treat other people too. Sometimes I wonder if I do things because I want people to like me, because I want to be seen as a good person, rather than because it’s good to do them. I’m suddenly worried I’m not a very nice person.

  “Want to come?” Mom asks.

  I do.

  On the way to Palm Desert I ask my mom what we’re going to do when we get to the care home. “Are we going to do arts and crafts? Call Bingo?”

  My mom laughs and shakes her head.

  “I do their hair and nails,” she says, gesturing to the back seat. I look behind me and see a box full of curlers and combs, bottles of nail polish. “And you are going to help.”

  I’m flabbergasted.

  “When I first started visiting a few years ago” – she gives me a significant look just in case I don’t realize what prompted her to start volunteering – “they asked me what my skillset was. Did I want to bake cookies with them or do craft projects or games? And I thought about it, and realized that with my background in the fashion and beauty world, this is what I could do.” She grins. “And I’ve learned how to do a mean manicure, if I do say so myself.”

  I can’t believe that my mom has this whole secret side of herself that I didn’t know about. That she does something just her, without my dad.

  It makes me feel like I know her better, and like I don’t know her at all. It’s simultaneously comforting and disquieting all at once.

  CHAPTER 51

  I can’t remember the last time I hung out properly with Mom, apart from that lunch at Las Cas a few weeks ago. Since Mika died, I’ve avoided both her and Dad. I always thought that was better for everyone, but now I wonder if they’ve missed me more than I realized.

  When we arrive at the Palm Desert care home, everyone knows my mom. I know I shouldn’t be surprised – she did say she came every week – but I am. She’s so relaxed and warm here too, even stopping in the corridor to ask a nurse about a particular resident.

  The afternoon passes quickly, and I find myself laughing more than I thought I would. The old men and women in the home are funny and kind. Frank boasts about the prize-winning hens he used to raise, Barbara confides how many lovers she’s had (“sixty-three, at last count,” she says with a significant glance at Frank), and Evelyn takes my hand in her own and tells me, without preamble, that she lost her own sister when she was young, and a daughter ten years ago.

  “So I know what it is to lose people,” she says quietly, eyes wide and clear.

  I stiffen and quickly look up to see if my mom heard, but she’s laughing loudly at something Frank is saying. I take a deep breath. I’m fine, I’m fine. This is just a sweet old lady. She’s not going to make me talk about Mika.

  “Your mama is doing the best she can,” she goes on. “And that’s all anyone can do.”

  “I know,” I whisper.

  “I hope you come back with her. You smell like sunshine. It’s good for our old souls.”

  On the
way home, I feel lighter than I have in months. My mom turns down the Christmas music that’s been blasting out. “I’m going to check in more,” she says. “I’ve let you get too far away. I want to be there for you. That’s all I ever want, Reiko. To be there for you.”

  “I know,” I say. And this moment should be special, it should be making us closer, but it’s making me feel awkward; it’s making me feel claustrophobic. “Today was fun,” I blurt.

  “You really think so?” A shy hope is pushing my mom’s sadness away, like a gentle but persistent breeze.

  “Yeah,” I say, and I realize I mean it. “It was.”

  My mom smiles at me.

  “Can I go with you next week too?” I ask.

  “I’d love that. And I think the little crew there would too. They’ve got each other for company, but I know they love visitors.” She pauses. “It helps me to think of other people. Gets me out of my own head.”

  It’s the closest Mom has come to talking about missing Mika, and I’m surprised by what she’s said. I always thought my mom and dad were fine because they had each other and because they always always always reassure me that they are OK, but after today I know Mom isn’t…

  “Hey, dreamy eyes” − my mom nudges me − “you all right?”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  Because for the first time in a long time, I feel like I might be.

  CHAPTER 52

  When the new semester starts, I feel like I’ve missed more than a few parties. I’m completely out of the loop, like everyone learned a new language over break, one that I don’t know. Libby struts down the hall with Seth by her side and I wonder if I ever looked like that, ever walked like that, was ever that obnoxious in my reign.

  I wonder if I’ll ever be back on the throne again.

  But most of all, I wonder if it even matters. Why did I try so hard to be so popular? It wasn’t like it was going to bring my sister back. It isn’t like me being as perfect as I could be was ever going to make a difference. One can never be good enough for two.

  I’m in the bathroom between classes one morning in late January when I hear someone sniffling in their stall. No, not sniffling. Sobbing.