The Anatomy of a Broken Heart //Completed//

54. Santana

The floor of the gallery was cold and dirty, but I lay there next to Zealand, looking up at the ceiling. He'd hung a beautiful model of the solar system in the center of the room, which he claimed could only be appreciated to its maximum capacity if the observer were lying down on their back. So we lay down. The room was empty this late in the evening and I was grateful. No ears to listen if the walls spoke.

"Caleb couldn't tell me why he's doing this. He couldn't tell me what's so special about Ginger. What does that say about him?" I told Zealand everything that had happened since I fell down the stairs. It felt good to confide in someone completely objective and Zealand was the easiest person to talk to when I wanted to vent. He only ever responded when I needed him to and stayed quiet like a book when I just needed to hear myself speak out loud.

"I don't know why that bothers you. Since when do these things matter to you?" he asked.

"What things?" I tilted my head to the side a little, trying to remember which planet came after Saturn and why it was green.

"Other people's things."

Pushing myself up onto my elbows, I angled my body to look at Zealand who still lay on the floor. I could feel the grainy dirt dig into my palms as I pressed my hands to the tile floor.

"I care."

He didn't look at me. "I know you care about us, the people, but I've never really noticed you take much interest in what the people have to say."
"That's not fair."

He turned his head and lifted his eyes to me then. "It's not up to you, I think. It's sort of just in your nature."

"I like giving you guys your privacy." The words came out more defensively than I'd intended.
"And I thank you for it," he said sincerely, but now that he'd told me this, I felt like maybe he resented me a little. Maybe the rest of them did too.

I lay back down, eyes to the ceiling, not really looking at the mobile anymore.

"Do you think I'm selfish?" I asked.

It took him a moment to answer. I snuck a glance at him and his brow was furrowed in concentration as he thought about the question. "Not selfish," he finally said. "Indifferent. At least since Jasper."

His comment shouldn't have surprised me so much. In the year 1 A.J.,beneath I had alienated everyone I had known. Zealand and I had grown up together; we'd been friends since the sixth grade and yet, he'd been the first casualty of my relationship with Jasper. It had been only too easy to let him go. In my heart, I had room for only one boy. When the initial delirium of Jasper's love had worn away a little, after he'd come and gone and had created the pattern that would haunt me until he came back again, I found myself all alone. For months, I would go to school sporadically, and if ever I saw my friends, it was in class, whenever I felt like going. I didn't eat. Instead, I hung out at the graveyard, on the phone with Jasper, or on one of the dead school buses with him. One day, after a fight, I went to every single class and did all of my work and went through the motions like a newborn. During lunch, I went to the cafeteria and sat at a table, food untouched, and Zealand came and sat down with me without a word. The rest of them followed and that was that. Since then, I made sure to keep them close. Apparently, they didn't think I was doing a good enough job.

Zealand sighed noiselessly, but I saw his chest rise and fall heavily. He looked worn out. The dark circles under his eyes like fading bruises told me he hadn't been sleeping and his fingernails were chewed down to the bed, which he did when he was pissed.

"You're wrong," I said. "I do notice things. You, for example, have been uncharacteristically emo of late. Something's wrong."

He smiled a little at my sarcasm. "So I'm acting like you, am I?"