Hearts, Strings, and Other Breakable Things

by Jacqueline Firkins

  Tom and Sebastian’s “little barbecue” turned out to involve well over a hundred people. Since Tom never did anything halfway, the scale of the party wasn’t a complete surprise. Edie’s social anxiety skyrocketed anyway, making her especially self-conscious about what she was wearing under her tank-top and cutoffs. Thankfully Maria restrained herself when she’d helped Edie blow out her hair and put on a little makeup. Edie still suspected she’d overdone it. She was attending a pool party, after all. Everything would wash out the moment she got wet, though as Maria had assured her, swimsuits weren’t necessarily for swimming.

  The girls quickly spotted Tom, dressed in a KISS THE COOK apron and loud pair of printed trunks. He was working the barbecue and passing out beers from a cooler on the deck. Lounging beside him was a gorgeous girl in hot pants and a halter top. She was petite, with a cheerful face and a sleek black braid draped over her shoulder. In other words, not the curvy blonde he’d brought to Norah’s party a month earlier. A short, muscular guy was setting up speakers at a nearby table. Tattoos covered his arms and neck, peeking out the edges of his snug black T-shirt. He had dark buzz-cut hair and a silver stud poking through his soul patch.

  Maria nudged Julia. “Think he has a skull in all those tats?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Pierced nipple?”

  The girls joined Tom at his chef station, where energetic hugs were exchanged and drinks were handed out. Then he introduced his friends as Linh and W.B., both of whom had driven up with him from Philly.

  “What does W.B. stand for?” Maria asked.

  “Washboard.” He lifted his T-shirt and displayed his sculpted abs, rippling under snakes, crosses, and tribal symbols as he flexed.

  “Seriously,” Maria whispered to Julia. “Go be your bad self.”

  “Stop it!” Julia gritted her teeth as her fists balled up.

  “Ignore this punk,” Tom joked through a hearty laugh. “He just likes showing off his six-pack, and his ink.”

  “Can’t blame him,” Linh said. “I don’t mind looking at that.”

  Tom made a great show of being jealous, falling to the deck with his hand on his heart. This led to some flirty but impressively athletic wrestling with Linh while the rest of the group did their best to carry on nearby.

  W.B. dropped his shirt down as he flashed the girls a row of perfect white teeth.

  “Actually, I picked my nickname up in my freshman English class,” he explained. “My last name’s Yates. Apparently W.B. Yeats was some famous poet.”

  Not just some poet, Edie thought as she silently recited one of her favorite quotes. “But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.” She wished, despite herself, that Sebastian were there to share the moment. She scanned the crowd until she saw him at the far end of the pool, perched on the edge of Claire’s chaise, where they were sharing a plate of nachos.

  Edie’s fight-or-flight instinct instantly kicked in, tipping far closer to flight than fight. Apparently “moving on” took more than a quick pep talk and a few layers of waterproof mascara. She glanced longingly toward the Vernons’ house, where a pair of dormers led to a quiet room with no bikinis, no boys, and no burning questions about what kept two people together beyond their genetic good fortune and their impressive inseam measurements.

  As she turned back toward the party, Maria caught her eye.

  “You’re not seriously going to run away already?” she asked.

  “No, I just—”

  “Thank god—then let’s find you some man candy before you waste that makeup job by impersonating a floor lamp again.” She linked her arm through Edie’s and dragged her away while Julia remained behind, inundating W.B. with questions about his tattoos.

  The girls sat down by the deep end of the pool. Maria reclined as if posing for a fashion spread while Edie removed her sneakers and dangled her legs in the water. It was cool and refreshing, lapping at her skin where stress-induced sweat had collected behind her knees. She and Maria surveyed the crowd, casually assessing the various dancers, divers, and drinkers to decide who Edie should approach for a conversation, or in Maria’s words, who she should show off her boobs to.

  Edie was drawn to a shaggy-haired guy sitting on the patio near the house, watching something on his phone. He looked shy and unintimidating. He also seemed to be alone, though that theory went to hell once he starting kissing another guy who’d just arrived. Maria encouraged her to hit on an athletic alpha-type who was aggressively swatting an inflatable ball around in the shallow end with some friends.

  “How much do you think he’d charge to pretend he likes you?” she asked.

  Edie bit back her annoyance, accustomed to Maria’s offhand derision by now.

  “I’m hoping to do better than pretend,” she said.

  “You’re the one who claimed you were bringing a date,” Maria argued. “So see it through. Take off your shirt and let’s go hire Mister Muscles to drool all over you.”

  As Edie began explaining that neither drool nor bribery were on the night’s agenda, the guy in question pounded the ball into another guy’s head. The two started swearing at each other with such unnecessary aggression, the girls promptly directed their attention elsewhere.

  They were speculating about a wiry guy wearing glasses and an old Holy Cross Fencing Team T-shirt when they spotted Henry leaning against the cabana door and holding a white rosebud out to a pretty girl in a sundress. All tanned, toned, and in his little red swim shorts, he looked like a lifeguard from a TV beach scene.

  Edie squinted at him, wondering where the rose had come from. As she concluded that there was only one place he could’ve kept it, she quickly stopped pondering the matter. Beside her, Maria showed no signs of agitation. She simply shifted the neckline of her dress to best display her cleavage. Edie was astonished. Considering the Great Cousin Wars, she would’ve expected Maria to storm over and yank the rose from the other girl’s hand.

  “Watching him flirt with someone else doesn’t bother you?” Edie asked.

  “Why should it?” Maria replied with a dismissive flick of the wrist.

  “Because you’re still seeing him?”

  Maria opened her mouth as if she was about to spout out a denial, but Edie held her gaze, unflinching, ready to refute any claims at innocence. Maria’s expression clouded for a moment. Then she swept her hair off her shoulders and pasted on a smile.

  “Whatever,” she said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

  Edie flashed back to her first day in Mansfield, when Maria made the same comment about kissing Tom. Edie knew Maria didn’t really think kisses were meaningless. She was just putting up a good front, hiding her vulnerabilities like everyone else. Edie considered calling her bluff but decided against it. Maria’s little act could prove useful. If they could all get through one evening without any bickering over Henry, Edie’d count the party a raging success, no matter what happened with her own impulsive little lie, her attempt to talk toward strangers, or the bikini bottoms that kept creeping to places they didn’t belong.

  As she glanced at Henry again, her mind wandered to the guitar strings, releasing a slew of contradictory feelings she’d been trying to ignore for the past couple weeks. Fortunately Maria’s phone soon buzzed, interrupting her thoughts. Rupert had just pulled in next door, an hour earlier than expected. Maria hypothesized that traffic from Boston was unusually light, but Edie suspected Rupert’s efficiency was driven by more personal reasons, ones that were strutting around the pool in a pair of red shorts. The thought allowed her to revive her acrimony. One sincerely beautiful gesture didn’t make up for all of Henry’s carelessness and callousness. She could still hate him.

  Mostly.

  Maria excused herself to go meet Rupert, leaving Edie to sort out her dating needs on her own. She sat quietly for a minute, finishing her beer and steeling her nerves. Then she got up, found an empty chair, and shimmied out
of her tank-top and shorts. She could do this. She could walk up to a guy and introduce herself. Once they’d covered the basics—name, hometown, number of siblings, history of criminal activity—she could ask him out. Simple. Straightforward. No big deal. She wasn’t looking for anything long-term, profound, or approaching perfection. She just needed to set up one date with someone who was available, able to hold a relatively engaging conversation, and potentially interested in kissing her. Ideally, he’d also have decent oral hygiene.

  As she adjusted the ties around her neck and assessed her astonishingly well-padded boobs, she heard a low, husky voice behind her.

  “Change your mind yet?”

  Edie spun around to see Henry flashing her a broad smile. His thick black bangs dipped down over one eyebrow and his skin glistened with something that smelled like tropical islands and narcissism.

  “Change your everything?” she said.

  “I’m not so bad once you get to know me.”

  “I have no reason to test that theory.” Edie tucked her clothes under the chair, careful to position herself so she wasn’t flashing Henry a panoramic view of her butt. Sure, she’d wanted to look sexy tonight, but not for Henry. Taking part in his little love games would only amplify her struggle to prove she had a will of her own. She wanted to be kissed, not played.

  Assuming their conversation was over, Edie turned and took off toward the deep end, heading toward Tom’s corner of the deck where she could swap her empty bottle for another beer. If she was going to walk around half-naked, talking to strangers, she needed a little more help bolstering her nerves. She was passing the diving board when she realized Henry was still by her side.

  “So where’s the guy?” he asked.

  “What guy?” she said without thinking.

  Henry laughed. His tone was hearty and good-humored but Edie stopped short anyway, mortified at how quickly she’d slipped.

  “God, you’re a terrible liar,” he said, still chuckling.

  “Sorry I don’t live up to your standards.”

  “When have you seen me lie?”

  Edie opened her mouth, ready to rattle off a dozen examples. To her surprise, she couldn’t name a single one. As far as she knew, he’d never promised to replace the security and adoration Maria found with Rupert. He’d never told Julia he wanted to be her boyfriend. He’d been almost too honest with Edie, telling her flat out what he thought about her, her cousins, and anything else that crossed his mind.

  Stuck without an argument, Edie apologized for her accusation. Henry gracefully accepted. Next thing she knew, she was explaining how her lie had slipped out, and now it was sitting there like a springboard for whatever she did next. She couldn’t believe she was opening up to Henry of all people. Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was the guitar strings. Maybe it was the way that he always seemed to figure things out before she said them. There was a strange sort of comfort in that.

  “Maria suggests I find a guy to play along,” she said as they neared the barbecue.

  “Shouldn’t be difficult. Not in that suit.”

  Edie tugged at the top, willing it to cover a little more skin. Where did the manufacturers hide all the padding, anyway? There wasn’t any fabric to pad.

  “I’m not good with boys,” she said. “I get all tense and end up blushing, blubbering, and bolting.”

  “You have no problem talking to me.”

  “Yeah, because I don’t like you.”

  Henry let out a sharp bark of laughter.

  “Fair enough,” he said. “But if you run out of options, I’m up for the job.”

  This time it was Edie’s turn to laugh.

  “He’d never believe it. I’d never believe it.”

  “I’m a pretty good actor.”

  “I’m not.”

  As Edie got another beer out of the cooler, Julia spotted Henry. She skipped away from W.B. and threw her arms around Henry’s neck. He did his best to stem her enthusiasm, carefully settling her an arm’s length away. They exchanged a few words but when Julia finally realized he was far less excited to see her than she was to see him, she marched over to the side of the pool and plunked herself down in a huff.

  “Nice work,” Edie said.

  “Guess I should go make a few repairs.”

  “You don’t strike me as much of a handyman.”

  “I’m handier than you think.”

  “I’m not talking about that kind of ‘handy.’”

  Henry laughed and strolled over to console Julia. Edie kept a watchful eye on the proceedings while chatting with Tom and his friends, clinging tightly to the only other people present who weren’t total strangers even though she was supposed to be flirting her way into a date. As Tom started reminiscing about the time he almost lit his parents’ house on fire, Edie noticed Sebastian heading toward her, alone, his loping stride displaying the not-quite-hinged-right quality she found so adorable. He was wearing a pair of baggy blue swim trunks and a soft linen shirt that was unbuttoned, flapping openly over his bare chest and the cutest little belly. For a guy who didn’t play a lot of sports, he was surprisingly fit, which meant Edie was unsurprisingly blushing.

  She started to panic. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t have a plan, just a half-assed lie and no ability to credibly sustain it. He was going to ask about her date. She’d stammer out a faulty excuse. He’d see right through her. She’d end up confessing everything, just like she did with her cousins and with Henry. Humiliation would ensue.

  Like a passenger on a plummeting plane, Edie assessed her routes of egress: driveway, fence, back door, deep end. Then she reminded herself she did have a plan. Just before Sebastian reached her, she spun on her heel, marched over to the boy in the fencing shirt, and held out her hand.

  “Hi,” she said. “My name’s Edie. What’s yours?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  * * *

  Fencing Guy wasn’t interested. Neither were Water Polo Boy, Econ Major Dude, the ginger with the funny accent, nor anyone else Edie had introduced herself to. She’d tried her best. Her best had failed. Now she was standing in front of the mirror in the Summerses’ bathroom, tugging at her skimpy bikini bottoms and trying to convince herself to return to the party, as dateless as ever. God, she sucked at talking to strangers. Girls like Claire made it look so simple, with her warm smiles and light banter. Then there was Maria, bulldozing into conversations with no fears about what anyone thought of her. Even Julia had a way with other people. Her open exuberance and natural curiosity had completely charmed W.B. Meanwhile, Edie was contemplating hibernating in her room until August, dedicating all her time to books, music, and funny cat videos. It sounded pretty good, actually. Except, of course, for the loneliness.

  When someone knocked on the door, anxious to use the toilet, Edie gave up her sanctuary. She stepped into the den and poked around, clinging to a few more minutes away from the crowd. The room was large, about half the span of the house. The walls were dotted with legal certificates. The shelves were lined with golf trophies and tidy rows of decoy ducks. Everything was spotless, formal, and carefully arranged in right angles. She tried to picture the room the way it used to be, full of books and games, with well-worn furniture scattered about and family photos on the walls.

  “Doesn’t look the same, does it?” asked a voice behind her.

  Edie spun around to see Sebastian entering from the stairwell, a box of garbage bags in one hand, a roll of paper towels in the other, and a spray bottle of cleaning fluid tucked under his arm. She considered bolting but she knew she’d look ridiculous. She could hardly claim there was a poolside emergency when she’d been wandering the den like a rapt museum patron. She might as well try to have a simple conversation.

  “I barely recognize the place.” She examined a decoy duck. “Does it bother you? Seeing your home change around you?”

  “Every single day.” He crossed the room and paused by a shelf of leather-bound books. “Tom doesn’t get it. He likes chan
ge. Where he doesn’t find it, he creates it.”

  Edie set down the duck, carefully lining it up in its militant ranks despite a powerful urge to stack them all into a pyramid. She wanted to tell Sebastian she admired his ability to hold on to things. She shared his appreciation for consistency, reliability, and big books that took weeks to read. Only she couldn’t figure out how to say all that without weighing it with eight layers of meaning. Besides, there was one thing she did want him to change, even though she was trying really hard to change herself instead.

  Sebastian piled the cleaning products on the corner of the leather sectional. He leaned against the back, settling in with his ankles locked. Edie remained on the other side of the room, uncertain what to say next. She should probably apologize for avoiding him for weeks on end. It’s what a friend would do. They were friends, right? Or at least they could be? She braced herself to be brave, or at least to be honest, though the two were starting to feel a lot like one in the same.

  “So, can I finally apologize?” he asked, beating her to the punch.

  “For what?”

  “For what I did at Rupert’s party.” He spoke as though his answer was self-evident, but it wasn’t.

  Edie studied him, searching for clues about what he was referring to. His expression was inscrutable, as always, so she simply took her best stab.

  “You mean lying to Claire?”

  “That, among other things.” His shoulders inched up, his gaze trailed toward his feet, and his face twitched as though he was chewing on the inside of his cheek.

  Edie took a moment to mentally eject the phrase among other things so she wouldn’t revisit it later, picking it apart until she found at least one way he could be implying he liked her, even if it was followed by several others that proved he didn’t. Then she edged a little closer, parking herself at the opposite end of the sectional.

  “Why doesn’t Claire know you want to be a writer?”