Broken Hearts

Chapter 1. To call or not to call.

Where do broken hearts go?

I have never asked myself that.

Where do broken hearts go? I guess that's why the sign called my attention. I keep asking myself the question as I walk around the grocery store. It's been a few weeks since I last stepped out of the apartment. Lou pestered me enough to come and get some real food like he called it. I stop in front of the dairy, and I have to remind myself I ditched dairy too. Fucking hell, if I keep going I'll eat nothing but fruits at some point.

It's interesting, the question doesn't leave my mind. Where? I mean, if you are ill, you go to the hospital. If you are mourning, you go to support groups. If you are dealing with an addiction, you go to meetings. Heartbreak, even if it is a loss, is not like the person is gone, though sometimes it can feel like that, it's not always the case.

So, what happens when you are cheated on and your heart breaks? What happens when you are told you are not enough and your heart breaks? What happens when the person you thought you'll be with for the rest of your life tells you they fell out of love with you and your heart breaks? Where do all those broken hearts go? Where do they get consolation from?

I notice I put a lot of junk shit in the shopping cart, but it's not like I give a fuck right now, 'm having an internal crisis and 'm allowed to buy ice cream like it's the end of the world, ditching that dairy will have to wait. So, I circle back and get myself plenty of vanilla ice cream. I throw some fresh veggies in, to keep Lou appeased, get some tea because I fucking miss brews and grab one (or two) more chips bags because, what the hell, 'm broken hearted so 'm allowed to eat like shit.

When I feel somehow satisfied with my choices, I go to the cash register. I keep thinking about that damned question, and I gasp as I realise I am seriously considering writing the information down. I wanna know what they might have to say, what answer they provide to that hunting question. As I walk out of the store, I make up my mind. I'll get the information and I'll call or go or whatever so my curiosity (and maybe my broken heart) are fulfilled. I rip apart a piece of the paper, it has a name and number.

Zayn Malik, heart therapist.

Heart therapist? Is that even a thing? Sounds fake to me, but 'm so tired of the dullness in my stomach, the emptiness in my own eyes and the fake smiles even I recognise, that 'm willing to try almost anything. I hide the little piece of paper in the back pocket of my jeans, I don't want Lou to see it and take a piss.

When I get home, Lou is there too. I thought he'd be at work already so I'd have more me time, but I guess I was wrong.

"Hey, Lou" I say and he looks at me with a smile on his face.

"Hey Haz. I see you finally listened. What did you get?"

"Nothing much, lots of veggies and junk food."

"Oh shit, it was too good to be true. But that's something I guess."

"Yeah. I thought you had classes today."

"Seniors had an activity or something, so I thought I'd use the time to start grading some papers and not use my whole weekend on it."

"Sounds like a solid plan. You gonna go visit Freddie?"

"Yeah, about that..."

"No, Lou. It's been what, three weeks since you last saw him? That's too bloody much."

"Haz..."

"I can take care of myself, Lou. Looks like I can't sometimes, but I can. Your son is way more important than my heartbreak." I won't have it, I won't accept him going another week without visiting my godson just because I had a bad break up.