Carved

CHAPTER 11

ELLA

How do you heal a broken heart?

It’s Thursday.  Five days after the party.  One day before we are supposed to go to New York.  After a long day of giving guitar lessons I find myself sitting on the couch.  I’m eating a pint of ice cream and I’m not even hungry. Whisper made sure I was well fed today.  I had no desire to eat this week. I had no desire to do much of anything. I started to watch Grease 2, but all I have really been doing is staring at a spot on the ceiling.  

“Yep, the spot is still there, it hasn’t moved.” Whisper says when she plops down next to me on the couch.  “Why do we always end up on this couch staring at that damn spot when we are depressed? It’s like that little spot is absorbing all of our energy.  Everything that makes us happy gets sucked right into that one spot.”  

I agree.  “It’s a black hole that takes all of the good and makes us watch hoping we get it back.  The only thing it leaves behind is regret, sadness, hurt, and pity. We stare and stare waiting for it to do something.  We wait to see if it will release some of the goodness back to us. It never does. It tortures us because we know it’s there and it does nothing, but suck the life out of us with each passing minute.”  

“You know what…hold on.”  She leaves and comes back with a wet rag and a stepping stool.  She stands on the very top of the stool and attempts cleaning the spot off the wall.  

“It’s bigger.”  I remark.

“I can see that smart a...I mean, brilliant assumption.  Out, damned spot! Out, I say!” She giggles. “How was that for Macbeth?”

I laugh.  “You would make a great Lady M.”

“Hmmm.  This is not going to work.  It’s getting worse. There’s no choice.  You’re going to have to snap out of the depression.  This spot is not going anywhere.” She hands me my phone.  “You need to call.”  

My phone rings at that second.  We both jump.  

“Hello.”  I didn’t even look at the screen to see who was calling.

“Hi, Ella, how are you doing?”

“Hi Beck, I’m fine.  Whisper and I are watching Grease 2.”  

“You’re depressed.  You always watch Grease or Grease 2 when you’re depressed.  Can I take you to dinner to cheer you up?”

“I don’t watch Grease or Grease 2 when I’m depressed.”

“Yes, you do!”  Both Whisper and Becker shout.

I moan.  “Fine, I’m depressed.  Why did you have to start a fight Becker?  Why did you try to make it look like we were still together?  And why did I have to find out about you and threesomes and about Vicky and Carina during a drunkin’ game?”  

“Because I’m an idiot.  I don't know how many times I can apologize.  I’m sorry, Ella. Please forgive me.” He begs. “I was an idiot.  I had this cool life I used to envy they had. For once I wasn't a Dweeb, but I wasn't myself.  I was so stupid and wish I could take it all back. It wasn't as thrilling as I thought it would be.  I had the perfect girl, but I let her go to be cool and popular."

"Becker…"  I begin to groan at javing to let him down again, but he stops me with his chuckle.

"I don't mean you, Ella.  I mean, you are perfect," he quickly backtracks and corrects himself from it sounding like an insult.  "But you're Dylan perfect. There was this girl I used to work with in my accounting department. She laughed at my math jokes and we could talk numbers for hours.  She was smart, and she was nice, and she was pretty. Then you fell onto my lap and she looked plain compared to you. I broke her heart. I guess that's part of why I was so mad.  I left her to be with you. Somebody sexy and cool. Way out of my league. I didn't know how to handle someone like you that can turn heads easily. Honestly, I became exhausted trying to cram on music history."