Hearts, Strings, and Other Breakable Things

by Jacqueline Firkins

  “I, um, I just want to apologize,” Edie stammered, stumbling over words that strained to emerge at all.

  “For what, exactly?” Claire’s lips pursed as the tendons in her neck twitched.

  Edie shrank in on herself as she quickly cataloged almost three months’ worth of bad choices about Sebastian: the thinly veiled flirting she convinced herself was only friendly conversation, the attention seeking, the unwarranted antagonism toward Claire, the little white lies that snowballed out of her control, the blundered declaration of her feelings at the world’s least appropriate time.

  “For a lot of things,” she said. “Mostly I should’ve trusted how much Sebastian loves you. I should’ve left him alone. I’m sorry.”

  Claire narrowed her eyes, not like she was about to lash out but like she was trying to read something buried in Edie’s expression. As Edie shifted before her, profoundly uncomfortable with the scrutiny but unsure what else to say, the other girls started to gather. Catie and Katie ran over to take a selfie with Claire. Taylor introduced her older sister. Phoebe expressed relief for getting through her valedictory speech without hiccupping. Edie turned to walk away, assuming her conversation with Claire was over, but Claire’s voice held her in place.

  “Apology accepted. Now stop stringing my brother along.” Her tone was light, her comment practically tossed away, but her words hit like daggers.

  Edie spun on her heel, gripping the table to keep upright.

  “Wait. What?” she asked.

  The other girls went quiet, instantly rapt. As if the conversation wasn’t excruciating enough, Edie was now the center of attention, her least favorite place to be.

  “You can drop the innocent act.” Claire smirked, a triumphant little glint in her eye. “We all know you’re just using him.”

  “I’m not.” Edie’s whole body flushed. Why were they talking about Henry? Things were good with Henry. Practically perfect. That wasn’t the problem.

  Claire cast a glance across the faces around her as if ensuring everyone was listening. Then she took a few measured steps toward Edie, her heels tapping out a rhythm against the wooden floorboards.

  “He showers you with time and attention. He drives you all over town. He pays for everything. He spent a fortune on that necklace.” She folded her arms and settled her chin into its loftiest position. “So tell me, what does he get from you?”

  Edie gaped, speechless, so stunned by the question she could barely stand let alone articulate a response.

  “Exactly.” Claire punctuated the word with a flash of her dark eyes and a flip of her thick black hair. Then she gathered the other girls and they marched away en masse, leaving Edie alone by the table, her knees weak, her hands shaking, her sense of self-worth completely obliterated.

  * * *

  Two hours later, after sitting through a class luncheon she was too polite to skip but too freaked out to eat at, Edie stood before Henry in front of the Vernons’ house, holding out the black velvet box. She’d been stewing all afternoon, letting Claire’s accusations fester, unable to parse truth from fiction. The moment Henry pulled over to drop her off, she ran upstairs to get the necklace, returning to hand it off to Henry.

  “What are you doing?” He frowned as if wounded.

  “I agreed to wear it,” she said, “not keep it.”

  He shook his head and stepped away.

  “It’s yours,” he assured her.

  “It was mine for a night but it comes with a price.”

  “No, it comes for a Price.” His smile crept upward but she didn’t return it.

  “Please take it.” Edie waved the box at him. “I can’t keep it without feeling like I owe you something in return.”

  “I don’t expect you to buy me anything.”

  “Yeah. I know.” Edie felt her face tighten, tugging at her hairline as though her skin had just shrunk a size.

  Henry’s smile dropped away. He knew what she meant. She didn’t need to spell it out. She’d replayed Claire’s question a hundred times. What else could Claire have been implying? Edie had nothing else to give Henry, and she’d given it willingly, last night, on the shores of Fulton Pond. They’d celebrated her graduation early, extinguishing her final almost and sharing another of her big firsts. Claire’s assumptions about their sex life might’ve been off-base, but her insinuation still stung.

  As Edie’s palms began to itch, desperate to release the box, Henry stepped forward. He cradled her face between his hands and met her eyes, pleading with a quiet intensity that only increased her discomfort.

  “I never said, never thought, anything like that.”

  “Maybe not, but other people did.”

  His expression hardened.

  “You mean Claire?”

  Edie shrugged, too embarrassed to fully admit she’d let Claire’s comments rattle her, but too rattled to dismiss them. While her nerves reknotted themselves, Henry leaned back against his shiny white car. He tucked his thumbs into his pockets, chuckling to himself.

  “You can’t take anything Claire says seriously right now. You know she’s only lashing out because of the breakup.”

  The word breakup hit Edie like an electric shock, zapping a hundred questions across her mind all at once. When? How? For good or just temporarily? Why didn’t she know? Was that what Sebastian had been trying to tell her? Why did she think he should tell her? Because of what she’d said on the dance floor? Did he care? Was that why?

  As soon as Edie’s questions took shape, they were swept away by a massive wave of guilt. She felt sick at the realization that she was still holding on to some ridiculous notion that she was meant to be with Sebastian. She hated herself for allowing the thought to exist, even for a second. Henry wasn’t the one who couldn’t be trusted. She was. That was why she’d held back for so long. She didn’t trust herself. And Claire had seen right through her, calling Edie out in front of everyone in her own clever way.

  Edie glanced at the black velvet box, the car tires, the budding dandelions that pushed their way through the sidewalk cracks, anything but Henry’s eyes.

  “You didn’t know?” he asked quietly.

  Edie shook her head as tears stung her eyes and Claire’s lilting voice echoed through her brain, asking that horrible question: What does he get from you? It wasn’t about sex. It was about love. Henry had given Edie his heart. She’d kept part of hers for someone else, the bit with the unbreakable string knotted around it.

  Through great force of will, she overcame her cowardice and looked up. She was so filled with shame she wanted to yank out her stupid brain and her selfish heart, throw them into the street, and let Henry run them over. Repeatedly. He passed a hand over his face as he watched her. He didn’t accuse. He didn’t push. He simply waited.

  A car drove by. A dog barked. A breeze rustled the pear trees.

  “Does it change things?” he asked at last. “Between us?”

  Edie considered as her mind flew through a maze of emotions she needed years to navigate, not seconds, but she didn’t look away. She stayed focused on Henry’s dark eyes, so clear, strong, and sure, so different from the pale blue eyes that’d looked at her a hundred times but never actually seen her. She wanted this. This. What Henry offered her: joy, laughter, affection, anticipation. She loved the way he held her, the way he wanted her, openly, with no reservations, the way she wanted him, too. She craved his touch, his voice, his songs, softly lulling her overactive mind. Sebastian’s breakup wasn’t a catalyst for rekindling her crush, for wasting more time wallowing in doubt and confusion. It was an opportunity to turn an impulse into a choice. And yet it wasn’t really a choice if she could only make it while she buried her phone. And her feelings.

  “I wish it didn’t,” she said. “But it does.”

  Henry closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. Edie tried to read his expression but she couldn’t see straight. Tears were welling up in her eyes and finding their way to her cheeks. She felt dizzy and u
ntethered. All her little imagined futures were vanishing before her, all the smiles and laughter she’d come to count on, all the love she’d spent years longing for. She wanted to grab it back and hold on with both hands, locking her fingers around it with an unyielding vise grip. Instead, she let it recede. She knew she couldn’t stay with Henry, not if she couldn’t return his commitment. Letting him go was right. It was honest. It was brave. None of that made it any easier.

  As Edie’s tears turned to sobs, she collapsed onto the front stoop and let the emotion rush out of her, too overwhelmed by her impending loss to do anything else. Henry sat down beside her. He took the necklace from her shaky grip and set it aside. Then he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, gently shushing her until she caught her breath again. She didn’t deserve his kindness. She didn’t deserve anything. How did he not hate her right now?

  “I’m so sorry,” she blubbered. “I thought I could do this. You. Me. All of it.”

  “I always knew it was a gamble.”

  Edie forced herself to meet his eyes as she wiped away an endless flow of snot and tears. Henry plucked damp strands of hair off her face, somehow looking amused despite also looking a little heartbroken.

  “You have a tell,” he said. “You’re in love with someone else.”

  “How long have you known?” she asked, barely.

  “Ten seconds. Two minutes. Since the day I met you.”

  “But these past few weeks, and last night . . . ?” Edie pictured the two of them lying naked and entwined on the moonlit shore, his body sliding against hers while the firebugs danced and the unmown grass tickled her earlobes. Their night together was meant to be the start of a new chapter. Not the end of their story.

  Henry took her hand in his and set the little knot in his lap. They looked nice, those hands: his strong and tan, hers freckled and callused, gently interlaced, fully aware of how close they were to each other.

  “Remember when I told you about my high school girlfriend?” he asked. “The one who cheated on me?”

  Edie nodded as another stream of tears began to flow.

  “The lesson I learned, it wasn’t about breaking hearts. It was about realizing good things sometimes end. I should enjoy them while I can.”

  Edie tipped her forehead onto his shoulder and sniveled away.

  “Don’t be charming right now,” she begged.

  “Want me to call for pizza?”

  “It would make this easier.”

  He kissed her forehead and drew her into his embrace.

  “Sorry. I’m not letting you off the hook on this one. If you’re going to dump me for another guy, I’m going to let it hurt a little.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Edie cried in Henry’s arms for what felt like hours, astonished at his patience and understanding. She couldn’t believe she was letting him go. He wasn’t just the first guy she’d kissed or had sex with. He was her first boyfriend, the first to hold her hand, open his car door for her, sing her a song, encourage her dreams, buy her a present, nibble her ear, hold her while she slept, make her feel beautiful. He was the first guy to say he loved her. In her own way, she loved him back, but she loved someone else, too, someone whose pull she could feel, even now.

  “Take the necklace,” she said. “I’ll wash your shirt and bring it by tomorrow.”

  “Keep them. I like knowing you have things that make you think of me. I’m vain that way.”

  “I always suspected that about you.” She smiled through her tears. God, she was going to miss him. “I’m really sorry.”

  “I know.”

  She breathed him in, taking advantage of his closeness while she still could.

  “Will you stay in Mansfield?” she asked.

  “Doubt it. Not much to keep me here. Boston’ll be better for . . . distractions.”

  “I’m still planning to be there in the fall. Can I see you again sometime? As friends?”

  “Maybe. In time.” He circled a hand over his face. “This whole calm, cool, and collected thing? I’m totally bluffing. I’ve got a few wounds to nurse. Side effect of all that swashbuckling.”

  Edie drew away to wipe her nose on the hem of her T-shirt.

  “I never did prove you wrong about anything,” she said. “Not once.”

  “Maybe one day I’ll give you another shot.”

  “Said the bartender to the man who walked into the bar.”

  “Said the guy sitting right here beside you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  * * *

  Edie sat on a bench at the bus station with her overnight gear packed beside her. The late-morning sun beat down, almost punishing as it soaked into the concrete and left the bench’s scrolling ironwork too hot to touch. A few other passengers waited in the nearby shade, but Edie preferred a perch where she had some space to herself. Her eyes were puffy. Her nose was red. Her heart was sore. But after a long night of sobbing and an even longer morning of evading her relatives’ questions about her well-being, she was finally ready to check her messages. All of her messages.

  Sebastian: You busy?

  Sebastian: How about now?

  Sebastian: I’ll wait by the fence until 6:00

  Sebastian: Wait and hope, just like you said

  Sebastian: Tuesday?

  Sebastian: What about Wednesday?

  Sebastian: Please stop avoiding me

  Sebastian: I made a mistake

  Sebastian: I made a lot of mistakes

  Sebastian: I’m sorry

  Sebastian: I was scared

  Sebastian: I was stupid

  Sebastian: Give me a chance

  Sebastian: One conversation

  Sebastian: I can’t do this by text

  Sebastian: Have you blocked me?

  Sebastian: Are you even getting these?

  Sebastian: I’ll wait in our tree until 4:00

  Sebastian: I wish we still had a wardrobe

  Sebastian: Maybe Monday?

  Sebastian: Your light’s on

  Sebastian: I’m waiting for you to look my way

  Sebastian: Just like in The Age of Innocence

  Sebastian: If you look . . .

  Sebastian: But if you don’t look . . .

  Sebastian: Okay. Bad plan. Goodnight

  Sebastian: I miss you

  Sebastian: Our fence misses you

  Sebastian: Have I said I’m sorry?

  Sebastian: I’m really sorry

  The texts went on and on, well over a hundred of them. Edie felt awful. No matter how badly Sebastian bungled their conversation at prom, he’d never stopped being her friend. She shouldn’t have shut him out. How could she expect Shonda to forgive her if she wasn’t capable of offering forgiveness herself? Then again, she hadn’t shut him out because she was angry. She’d shut him out because she was afraid. Even now, when he no longer posed a threat to her relationship with Henry, the thought of seeing him sent little tremors of anxiety rippling through her. She wanted to reconnect but she was hesitant to open old wounds, especially while she was nursing such new ones.

  She closed her eyes, wrapped a hand around her locket, and pictured her mom sitting beside her. She could almost feel fingertips brushing her hair off her forehead as a pair of lips planted a tender kiss on the exposed skin. Be brave and be kind, her mom would whisper. Everything else is just a job.

  Edie: Just read your texts. Wow

  As she started typing a follow-up, her phone pinged with a response.

  Sebastian: Where are you?

  Edie: Bus station

  Sebastian: You’re leaving?

  Edie: Just visiting Ithaca for a couple days

  Sebastian: When’s the bus?

  Edie checked the time.

  Edie: Departs in 20 minutes

  Sebastian: Can I come see you off?

  Edie considered. She wasn’t ready. She might never be ready. Still, a friendly goodbye wasn’t much to ask, not by someone she’d known for so long and
shared so much with. It might even be the perfect way to begin rebuilding.

  Edie: OK

  Sebastian: Be there in ten

  Edie spent the next ten minutes playing out imaginary conversations in her head. What would he say? What would she say? How would being around him feel now that neither of them was in a relationship? Would new possibilities open up or would they both dance around their feelings, like always? The knot in Edie’s gut suggested the latter but she clung to the hope that it would quickly unravel itself. She’d been honest with Henry. She could be honest with Sebastian. After all, she had nothing to lose at this point. Only something to gain.

  When the bus pulled in to the station, Sebastian still hadn’t arrived. The other passengers boarded while Edie watched the streets, craning her neck, searching for signs of Sebastian’s little blue car, finding none. Eventually the driver called over to let her know he was about to depart. Edie slung her messenger bag over her shoulder and scanned the empty streets, still hopeful. She pulled out her ticket, gripping it so tightly that it buckled. The driver turned and boarded the bus. He settled himself behind the wheel. Pistons hissed as the tires filled. Edie took one last glance down the road. Then she jogged toward the bus, shouting for the driver to wait.

  As Edie stepped onto the bus and handed off her ticket, car tires screeched behind her. She spun around to see Sebastian parking his car against the curb and flinging open the door. She shot a panicked look at the driver.

  “Two minutes,” he said. “Then I’m pulling out.”

  She stepped off as Sebastian ran over to meet her.

  “Road construction.” He pointed all directions, breathless, frantic. “Stop lights. Train. Squirrel. Fuck!”

  Edie sputtered out a laugh. She’d never heard Sebastian swear before.