The Place Where Broken Hearts Go h.s.

Chapter 3: Spectating

Spectating: (verb) to watch or observe

I am out the door at eleven twenty seven.

I unlock my Chevy Cruze and carefully back it from the garage, careful not to bang the side mirror on the side like I often do when paying less than one-hundred percent attention. I slide aviator sunglasses onto my eyes, and press down on the gas.

The trip to Isabelle's house is extremely familiar, and comforting. I nearly feel better with every mile that disappears below me.

I live on the outskirts of New York City. My house sits on the very edge of all things exciting, and I unfairly only watch the city life from afar.
I inhabit on the edge of boring and interesting, potentially exposed to both.

Isabelle lives in the center of the city with her two parents and brother. She has the busy life that many envy. I am lucky that she drags me along for the ride.

The city is like Isabelle.

It has lights and shine and lots of adventures.

The outskirts are like me.

Spectating and detached.

I guess we become our surroundings.

The drive to the subway station takes ten minutes. I park and purchase a ticket. I board the train and travel eight minutes underground. I arrive at eleven fifty seven, and take my bag into the building. Inside, familiar lobby faces greet me as I step on the elevator pressing button number thirty- the penthouse floor. I focus on the paisley print in the carpet, and smile. Isabelle always makes fun of the buildings obsession with paisley. It covers the expanse of the ceiling in the lobby, the carpet in the halls, the wallpaper in the news rooms and other unappreciated surfaces.

I knock on the door, and Mr. Jason Matthews opens it. He looks so happy to see me that I feel like I should hug him. "Hey Blue! Come in," He motions me into the giant room, and I thank him.

Jason is successful businessman by day, charming super-father by night. He is wearing a green polo, tucked into khaki shorts. Him and Isabelle resemble each other strongly. Not necessarily in the way they look, though there are some striking similarities. They both have the same aura surrounding them. It is one of happiness, and selflessness.

He asks me how I am, though I saw him yesterday. I suspect Isabelle parents are worried after I woke Isabelle up last night begging her to come see me. Then again, who wouldn't be.

"Isabelle! Blue is here!" Jason hollers into the apartment.

Isabelle immediately strides out from her bedroom, her hands tangled in the process of putting up her hair. "You're late!" she shouts.

I glance at the clock on my phone. "Its twelve oh two."

Isabelle walks straight past me and into the foyer. I follow her like the dependent leech I am.

"Exactly."

She ties her hair off, and shakes her head disapprovingly though her lips tug up at the edges into a smile.

Isabelle is dressed in a floral dress and sandals. "You look pretty," her father tells her.

"Thanks dad."

She kisses him on the cheek, and I look away feeling intrusive as always.

"We'll be in town."

Isabelle grabs my arm and pulls me back to the front door.

"Be safe!" Her dad yells.

"Yeah yeah yeah," Isabelle mutters.