the Art of Breaking Up

by Elizabeth Stevens

  I tip toed over to the side gate, thinking that the back would be a better egress point than the front. All the bedrooms were upstairs, so in theory it made no difference. In my head, it made all the difference.

  I winced as the side gate hinges ground, then paused like I expected a search light to make a sweep. Still nothing.

  Still tip toeing – as though it made any difference – I made my way to the laundry door. If there was a door in the house that was going to go undetected, it was the laundry.

  My key slid in noiselessly. The lock turned silently. The door swung open to an empty room. I stuck my head in first just in case someone would be waiting for me. Clear.

  Working quickly, because surely that would help keep me inconspicuous, I closed the door, relocked it, and hurried up the stairs to my room.

  It wasn’t until I had the door closed and my back against it that I let out more than a shallow breath. I gasped heavily as though I’d forgotten to breathe the whole time.

  “Okay,” I said to myself. “Maybe my sneaking skills have improved.”

  As I fell into bed, a vague thought tried to permeate my good mood. It was trying to suggest that it wasn’t my skill that had improved, but the attention paid to me had decreased. I refused to listen.

  Besides, I was far too tired to let any sort of thought keep me awake. Even Wade with his storm grey eyes and utterly perfect kisses.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I was exhausted the next day at school and only had myself to blame.

  Hanging out with Wade had made me feel more settled, less stressed, but it also worked me up. I’d had that goofy grin on my face all night and couldn’t stop myself just reliving the night with him. Nothing remotely special had happened, and yet it kind of felt like it had.

  As I got books out of my locker, I looked up and saw one of the mushiest displays of public affection that the school halls could ever see.

  My phone buzzed and I pulled it out of my pocket.

  Wade

  What was that?

  Norah

  What was what?

  Wade

  That face.

  Norah

  What face?

  Wade

  The face you just made?

  I smiled. My eyes darted up, but I couldn’t see him.

  Norah

  When?

  Wade

  Just now when you saw Patterson giving his girl those flowers.

  My fingers hovered over the keypad.

  I hadn’t realised I’d been making a face. I thought I disapproved. But I knew there was a part of me that doth protest too much.

  I wondered if I should just tell him.

  Norah

  It’s stupid, but sometimes a part of me quite likes the idea of a boyfriend giving me my favourite flowers on my birthday.

  Wade

  Small problem.

  It was a better response than I’d expected.

  Norah

  What’s that, then?

  Wade

  That would require a boyfriend.

  Norah

  Hence, it’s stupid.

  Wade

  What’s so stupid about a boyfriend?

  Norah

  For starters, it involves a boy.

  Wade

  haha

  Wade

  I’m seriously interested now.

  Norah

  In what?

  Wade

  In why you’re so against having a boyfriend.

  Norah

  Because all boys are the same.

  Wade

  We are not all the same.

  Norah

  Show me an even semi-decent human male and I might consider proper dating.

  My phone buzzed again with a picture of him. A huge coincidence or recently taken considering I recognised the background; it was close by. I rolled my eyes and tried to suppress my smile as I resisted the urge to look for him again.

  Norah

  I should have known that was coming.

  Wade

  That’s not an argument.

  Norah

  So? I didn’t realise I had to make one.

  Wade

  An argument was hardly obligatory. But you also should have known that, by not making one, you’ve only reinforced the opinion that I’m a semi-decent human male.

  He was right. I should have known that.

  Wade

  I have no choice but to think highly of myself now.

  I snorted out loud, just picturing the self-satisfied, smug half-smirk he’d be wearing. In the recesses of my mind, I vaguely acknowledged the realisation that there had been a time, not that long ago, when that smirk hadn’t made me smile. When it had made me want to smack it off him. I largely ignored it and the subsequent argument that there had been a time before that when it had made me smile, which was trying to tell me that meant smiling at it now was fine.

  Norah

  Just this once, I might let you

  Wade

  Oh, you’ll let me?

  Norah

  Yes. Out of the goodness of my heart.

  I had a feeling we were both well aware that the goodness of my heart hadn’t extended to him all that long ago. But then, based on what he’d said the night before, that hadn’t stopped him knowing it was there. And maybe I’d reached out to him because I’d sort of felt the same about him; under all the whatever it was we did on a daily basis, did we both know we were still the same people we’d always been?

  “Aw, look at them,” Lisa cooed as she appeared beside me out of nowhere and I jumped, full of guilt.

  “Who?” I asked, turning my phone screen off.

  “Rich and Sally.”

  I looked over to Patterson and his girl. She was beaming, holding the flowers like she couldn’t believe he’d been so sweet. She was the kind of happy you see in rom-com movies when the main character finally gets proposed to by the right person.

  Was that what the right person looked like?

  And if it was, how long until that same right person started giving you a look like you’d just smelled your dog farting on your bed? For my parents, it had been less than twenty-five years. How long would it be for Rich and Sally? As teenagers, we were constantly told that no relationship we started would ever last the distance, that it was only once you were older and mature that you could find a forever person. If that was so true, why were the divorce statistics so high?

  “To totally change the subject. You’ve been awfully busy lately,” Lisa chastised and my guilt skyrocketed a million-fold, but at least she pulled me out of the darkening spiral I’d fallen into in my head.

  “Uh…yeah.” I gave her a smile. “Sorry. Bad friend.”

  She laughed. “Not true. You could never be a bad friend.”

  No. I could just be not properly paying attention to her. I could just be entertaining vivid sexual fantasies about the guy she’d been hung up on for three years. I could just be a totally self-centred arse now.

  I debated the sense of my next words, but better half a lie than a full lie. Right? “There is…a guy,” I told her.

  “Oh, a guy?” she teased.

  I nodded. “A guy. A new guy.”

  “And just how serious is this new guy?”

  I shrugged. “Just a hook up.”

  “If he’s keeping you busy, I’m going to assume it’s regular though?”

  I nodded vaguely. “It wasn’t supposed to even be a one-time thing, you know. But…?” I shrugged again.

  “But you just can’t help yourself?” She nudged me playfully.

  I smiled. “Something like that.”

  “Good. I’m glad.”

  “You are?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Now she shrugged. “I just… I feel like it’ll be good for you. You know?”

  I didn’
t. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  “A date. Why?”

  “Nah, all good. Just wondered if you wanted to hang out or anything.”

  “Consider it cancelled.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “No, I don’t. But I wanna, so I’m gonna.”

  It wasn’t lost on me that she was putting a guy aside for me. Something I was well aware I was not doing. However, I was also cognizant that Lisa McGinty was her own person with her own mind and, if she wanted to cancel a date to hang out with me, then so what if that made her a better person than me? If the tables were turned, I would have cancelled hanging out with Wade for her, though, so that was surely worth at least a point on the friend-o-metre.

  I smiled. “Okay, then.”

  “Yours or mine?” she asked.

  “Yours,” I said quickly.

  I could have used that as a perfect segue to tell her about my parent’s upcoming divorce. I should have. Did I? Not so much. The words were, as always, on the tip of my tongue. But saying them was a whole other beast.

  “Hey, Wade!” Lisa called.

  I looked up and saw him walking our way. For a second, I saw him in the picture he’d just sent me. Relaxed. Easy smile. Cool. Confident. Funny.

  He inclined his head to her. “Lisa.” A very pregnant pause. “Norah.”

  I was seeing him the way the rest of the school saw him; nice, smart, popular, good at sport, and with a charming smile. Everything in me was trying desperately to hold onto the knowledge he was just an egotistical jerk, but my grip was slipping.

  I gave him a vague nod and didn’t really know where to look. “Wade.”

  I had to admit the part of me that was trying to hold onto and accentuate his less desirable qualities was only doing so for Lisa’s sake. That, if I could remember that about him, that somehow made what I was doing less bad.

  Wade paused mid-step next to us. He looked at me, then Lisa, then gave another nod and kept walking.

  I just couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t even muster up a scathing quip to save face in front of Lisa. I watched him go and, for the first time in a long time, I just enjoyed it.

  Then my eyes slid to Lisa, but hers were following Wade down the hallway as well.

  When he was gone, Lisa linked her arm with mine. “Do we maybe not hate him quite so much anymore?”

  I jerked and looked at her. “We maybe just haven’t got the energy to be mean.”

  “That whole SOILED thing in charge today?”

  Sure. I nodded. “Something like that.”

  She leant against me as we walked to assembly. “Ah well. I’ll just have to be SOILED with you then.”

  I doubted Lisa could ever languish in existential dread, but I appreciated the sentiment.

  We were early enough that there were very few people already on their way to the School Hall for assembly. On our way, Matt fell into step with us and I gave him a warm, welcoming smile.

  “Hey, Matt,” I said.

  “Norah. Hey, Lis.” He nodded with a warm smile of his own.

  “How go rehearsals?” I asked him. It was probably a pretty weak opener, but I didn’t really know that much else about him.

  “Not bad. Not bad.”

  When we got to the School Hall, the doors were still closed. Matt jogged ahead by a couple of paces and held the door open for us. Well, let’s be honest, Lisa.

  “Lisa,” he said as he gave her a little bow.

  Her laugh could only be described as a giggle as she bit her lip and flicked her hair. “Thanks, Matt.”

  As Lisa dragged me through the door, I watched him give her a cheeky wink like they had some in-joke together. That was at least the second in-joke they had. That had to be a good sign. That had to be promise of potential. Surely. Lisa hadn’t had in-jokes with anyone but Erin and me since Wade.

  “You coming to the bleachers?” Lisa asked him. “I can save you a spot.”

  Matt shook his head. “Nah. We’re playing today.” He obviously saw my quizzical look as he clarified, “Jazz band.”

  It was then that I vaguely registered Lisa mentioning something about him being in Jazz Band. Like, of course he was.

  I nodded. “Oh, cool.”

  Matt waved and headed off towards the stage, and Lisa and I ambled our way to the Year Twelve section of the bleachers, nodding to a few of those others who’d also got there early.

  When we sat down, I nudged Lisa. “So?”

  “So, what?”

  I kicked my head in Matt’s general direction. “What are we thinking?”

  “About what?” Lisa asked. “Matt?”

  “No, me joining Jazz Band,” I said sarcastically. “Yes about Matt.”

  Lisa grinned, big and wide like she couldn’t help it. “He’s nice.”

  “Oh, he’s nice,” I teased.

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s it?”

  She nodded. “Mmhmm. That’s it.” She shrugged, but her smile belied her words. “We’re just friends.”

  I nodded. “Just friends. Famous last words.”

  She snorted and nudged me back. “Says you.”

  We sat in relative silence while kids and teacher flowed into the Hall. The Jazz Band were warming up and we bopped along a little to the music. Matt found Lisa in the crowd and waved to her enthusiastically. Lisa laughed and waved back. Just as enthusiastically.

  “And that was our Jazz Band, guys,” Wade said as he approached the podium. “Give them a round of applause. We’ll be hearing from them again later in the assembly.”

  As he paused, Wade found me at the top of the bleachers. There was a definite moment. A definite moment that we shouldn’t have been having in front of literally the whole school. A moment that was highly implausible given how far away from each other we were. It was the kind of moment that, when it happened between Lisa and Matt, I teased her about it and tried to get her to admit she liked him.

  “Get on with it, Phillips,” some joker further along the bleachers called.

  And like that, the implausible moment was over.

  Wade grinned apologetically, all wide and bright and winningly. “Sorry. Brain fart. This week’s news. First off, Mr Rankin would like me to remind you all that tickets for this year’s production of Wicked…”

  His words faded as I thought about that moment. It was concerning to say the least. At least, my brain was telling me it was concerning. Some other part of me was feeling a big, goofy smile returning.

  e

  I took my overnight bag to school with me on Friday so I could go straight to Lisa’s after school. This was partially in aid of avoiding home as much as possible and partly in aid of Girls’ Night being long overdue.

  “Norah, how’s it hanging?” asked Lisa’s dad as we walked in the front door, as usual forgetting that it wasn’t still the late nineties and lingo had moved on.

  I nodded. “Fancy free, Doug.”

  He smiled. “Groovy.”

  Doug was, much like his daughter, a bit of an odd duck. In the best way. He was an artist, lucky enough to be doing what he loved for enough money he didn’t need another job to help with the bills. Not that Lisa’s mum wasn’t making plenty of money for all of them to live much more lavishly than they chose to.

  Lisa and I thundered up to her room, laughing and jostling each other, like we were still eleven and having our first ‘big girl’ sleepover. We dropped our bags on the floor and the music went on as a matter of priority. As we danced around like joyous goobers, living our very best lives, we got changed out of our uniforms and into what passed for PJs these days; namely our most daggy, comfy clothes.

  Girls’ Night proceeded much like the normal fashion, involving trooping downstairs periodically for snack food and soft drink, of which we naturally consumed enough to feed a large gathering. There was a lot of dancing and singing at levels that would have made the neighbours think
we were having said gathering with at least half the school. Interspersed with chatter and jokes and more delicious junk.

  “So, tell me a little about this guy,” Lisa said as we dropped onto her bed.

  “What about him?”

  I felt her shrug. “I dunno. What’s he like? Does he treat you well? Is he just a hook up? Is he at least good at it?”

  I laughed. “He’s…different.”

  “Different like you wanna have lots of sex and babies, or different like he’s all alpha a-hole?”

  I snorted at her descriptions. “Neither. He’s just not my usual fare.”

  “Okay. That’s no bad thing. How does he treat you?”

  I mused on that. “He doesn’t put up with my bullshit. When I need it, he calls me out.”

  “Good. You need that.”

  I nudged her. “Like I don’t have you for that.”

  She scoffed. “Like you listen to me. All right. So, it sounds like it might be more than a hook up?”

  “Nah. I don’t really see it going anywhere.”

  “Why not?”

  I threw a handful of Skittles into my mouth. “We’re just not…long-term compatible.”

  “Shame,” she said, unwrapping a Wagon Wheel. “Is he at least good at it?”

  I laughed. “What we’ve done so far. Yes.”

  “Oh, I like the sound of that. Pray tell, what have you done so far.”

  “Only kissed.”

  “That all? Are you sure it’s just a hook up?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Because it’s not like you to keep a guy around just because he kisses well.”

  It was time to move this off my boy problems and onto hers.

  “Speaking of boys, how’s Matt,” I asked, batting my eyelids like an idiot.

  “All right, change the subject,” Lisa laughed. “He’s fine. I told you, he’s a friend. A fine friend.”

  I nodded as I tipped more sugar into my face. “Sure, he is. A friend,” I teased.

  She nudged me. “He is.”

  A thought occurred to me and, given how much sugar we’d ingested, it was a thought that had a high probability of success.

  “You should message him,” I told her. Somehow, I managed to sound nonchalant to my ears.

  She bounced onto her knees and looked at me. “I should message him.”