Hearts and Other Breakable Things

chapter thirty-nine ✔️

stevie hopkins
- july 16, 2018 -

A POUNDING ON MY DOOR woke me from a surprisingly deep sleep. I blinked a couple of times before I pulled myself from bed and checked the alarm clock next to me. It was past noon. I had to check one more time but, when it was still noon, I moved a little quicker.

            My mind raced trying to figure out what was going on. I wasn't missing anything that I knew of. It was just a normal Tuesday. I had class later that day, but that was it. Pulling open the door, Chelsea walked into the apartment shaking her head.

            Her hair was curled down her back and she was wearing a knee-high dress with a flower print on it, "You're not dressed."

            "No?" I asked, looking out the door before shutting it. She looked so nice. She was pretty with her make-up done and those high heeled shoes, "Should I be?"

            "Stevie, are you serious right now?"

            I glanced around to find anything to help me remember what I was apparently supposed to know, "Yes?"

            "You promised you'd go to this lunch with me. The one with the publishers that Jackson invited us to."

            I closed my eyes, letting out a breath, "I completely forgot. I was up all night studying for my final in a couple of days. It must have slipped my mind."

            Chelsea shook her head, but there was nothing but a frown there. She went from looking like she was about to explode to almost deflated, "I can't believe this. Don't you take any of this seriously?"

            "What?" I was about to take an actual step back before I caught myself, "Of course, I take this seriously. This lunch is a big deal for you. I simply forgot. I'll just go change really quick."

            "Don't bother," she rolled her eyes, "I already told Jackson you wouldn't be coming with me a couple days ago. Said you had the flu."

            "Why would you say that? Do you not want me to go with you anymore?"

            "Do you even want to go?"

            That was like a slap to the face, "Yes, of course I do."

            Her face looked almost pale now, "Have you ever really seen me?"

            I had to step back now. It felt like I was having multiple different conversations at the exact same time. Weren't we just talking about me forgetting a lunch plan?

            I stared at her, "I see you."

            Her eyes locked with mine in a hard gaze and she huffed, "No. You don't. I don't think you ever really have."

            "Chels, how could I not see you? You're standing directly in front of me."

            "God!" She threw her hands up in the air, "Do I have to explain everything to you? I get that feelings confuse you, Stephanie, but come on. If you hadn't literally ran into me that day we would have never met. Poetry has always been huge for me. The biggest part and I put so many events on hold for you."

            "For me? I didn't ask you to do that."

            "I went to all these things with you. All of them and I did it with a smile. Do you know how many poetry events you've gone to with me?"

            "I don't know. A couple—"

            "One! You've gone to one. You went to the auction with me. Did you know that you have never once asked me about my poems? I've sat in that library with you so much that I could tell you in immense detail what it looks like from that table in the back. Did you know that I recently won an award for one of my poems?"

            "You did?" I shook my head.

            Where was all this coming from? How could she not tell me that? My mind was reeling. Maybe she had told me and I hadn't been paying attention. I knew that if she caught me while I was studying, I probably didn't hear a single word, "I'm not surprised, Chels. You're perfect."

            "Stop." She snapped, "I'm not a girl that you can just put up on a pedestal. I have flaws! I feel like I can't make any mistakes around you. You think I'm just so perfect."

            "I didn't know you were feeling this way," my voice came out small, but what I didn't know was that, that single phrase would be our very own undoing.

            "How could you? We don't talk about our feelings, Stevie. The few times you have said anything to me about how you feel, it was someone else's words you found on the internet."

            I instantly shook my head, "That's not fair. You know how hard words and feelings are for me."

            "I do," her voice cracked, "but I didn't think it would be this hard. This is too hard, Stevie. I'm always trying to guess what's going on in your head. You don't ever tell me. I'm left out here stumbling blindly in the dark."

            "Please—" I couldn't finish. My heart was sinking further down in my chest as the seconds ticked by with neither of us talking. I knew how I felt, but I didn't know how to express what it actually was.

            She was standing in front of me, but she looked like a completely different person and I didn't know her at all. I wanted to reach out and touch her. I wanted to hold her in my arms. Tell her my every thought about her. All I ever wanted was for her to be happy.

            "I think I just got my answer." She went for the door, but I grabbed her arm. I wasn't rough, my grip was barely holding on.   

            "Don't go," I begged.

            She took in a deep breath, her eyes locking with mine. They were full of water, "Give me a reason to stay. Give me one. I just need one."

            "I—" I stared, "I don't—"

            Grabbing my hand, she pulled from her arm and dropped it, "That's not good enough anymore."

            I flinched with the door shutting behind her. My legs gave out underneath me and I crumbled to the ground. My hands barely covered my mouth in time to muffle the scream that ripped through my throat. I couldn't get a hold of my breathing. It was out of control. My chest moved too quickly for my mind to keep up with it.

            I couldn't possibly be breathing. Was I actually even breathing at all?

            My fist collided with the floor. Pain shot through my fingers. I pulled my hand to my best and buried my face in the carpet. It muffled my whimpering the best it could. My head was spinning. I tried to connect everything with the events of previous months.

            I was trying to see it all from her point of view, but I couldn't think. I couldn't move. I covered my face with my hands. Maybe if I blocked out the rest of the world my brain could catch up. It was trying to run all the numbers, but this wasn't a numbers problem.

            It was me. I was the problem. People weren't numbers. They were a complicated mixture of emotions. They were messy and confusing. Perhaps, I wasn't meant to hold onto something that intense. I was meant for logic and understanding. I was trying to fly when in reality I was simply falling.