Another Little Piece of My Heart

by Tracey Martin

  I hold the last syllable for a moment after the final note fades away. My heart’s whacking on my chest like it wants to break free and run far. Run forever. All my usual postperformance reactions are heightened. I’m so on edge that any more caffeine might make me bounce all the way back to Connecticut. The normal flush I get while singing is more like a wildfire on my cheeks.

  And yet I can’t bring myself to look to my left again. I can barely remember to smile and thank everyone and bow graciously to the applause.

  My body feels as solid as a sandcastle as I relinquish the mic and put Jayna away. Any moment now a great wave is going to close in on me, smashing me into a million particles, destroying this facade of confidence I’ve constructed.

  As though on autopilot, I smile some more and thank the people who compliment me as I work my way back to my family. At least, I think they compliment me. They could be telling me I sucked for all I can hear. My knees are soft. My vision’s blurred.

  “You were awesome!” Hannah half squeals, half whispers because someone new is already taking the stage. Lisa and April echo her.

  “Really good,” Mike adds. He scans the room, and I assume he’s searching for Jared.

  April points toward her chair. “Sit?”

  “No, thanks.” I want to crawl away, but I crumple to the floor instead, hugging Jayna’s case with one arm.

  My post-performance rush, which came on twice as strong—undoubtedly fueled by the horror of Jared’s presence—has faded twice as quickly. I’m happy with how things went, but I want to leave before Jared finds me. His opinion is so important to me that I’m scared to hear it.

  I rest my head on the guitar case, my eyes closed. Two more people take the mic, and I’m too lost in my own world to do more than clap along with the crowd since I see and hear nothing—until Liam takes the stage once more.

  “Okay, up next, we have some more music tonight. This is...”

  Hannah pokes my arm.

  I nudge her off, sit back, waiting for the owner to finish his intro. Because I can’t see the stage, I wonder if he’s having technical difficulties.

  Mike chuckles. “Dude, I can’t believe he’s doing this.”

  “Doing what?” Lisa asks.

  I start to ask the same, but the owner’s found his voice. “Please welcome Jared Steele.”

  And so it turns out that the biggest advantage to sitting on the floor is that I can’t fall off my chair.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “What?” My voice is lost among the murmuring crowd.

  “Is that really him?”

  “Is that the Jared Steele?”

  “Oh, my God. That’s him. I recognize him.”

  And from the hopelessly out-of-touch: “Who’s Jared Steele?”

  Suddenly, everyone’s more awake. Everyone’s leaning in their seats, pressing forward, and talking all at once. I’m suffocating on the floor and want to scream.

  What does Jared think he’s doing? Isn’t it bad enough that he had to show up here tonight when I didn’t want him to? Does he actually have to play, too? I had a moment when people were clapping for me, and now he goes and overshadows that in a heartbeat.

  “Can you breathe?” Lisa’s holds out a hand to me. “Guys, move and make room so Claire can get up.”

  I waddle to my knees, and April reluctantly scoots over so I can share her seat. I wrap my fingers tighter around my guitar case strap, watching my knuckles turn white.

  Jared sits on the stool, totally at ease as he tunes his guitar. He chats with Liam who appears to be in shock. If nothing else, he’s probably wishing Jared gave him some advance notice so he could advertise a bit. Sell some more over-priced coffee.

  At a table to my right, a group of college-aged girls is fawning so hard I’m surprised no one’s covered in drool.

  I put my head in my hands.

  “Hey, nice to see you all tonight,” Jared says at last.

  Ugh, it’s like he’s at a concert. I wonder if he sees me cringing back here.

  “I heard one of my friends was going to play tonight, and that gave me an idea.”

  Is he referring to me? Impossible. Since when are we friends?

  “See, I came up here to visit a friend and work on some songs for my next album. I was looking for a change of scenery, but what’s so weird is that I didn’t find it.”

  Jared plucks away at the strings while he’s talking, providing his own soundtrack, and it sounds so normal. So right.

  “I found something very familiar. Different, but familiar.” He pauses and shakes the hair out of his face. It appears smooth, but he’s nervous. It’s just that his hands are busy so he can’t toy with his ring. Who’d have thought he still got nervous about performing? “See, although I’ve spent a lot of time denying it, I owe the inspiration for several of the songs on my last album to one person.”

  I tense so forcefully that I jerk the table. Okay, maybe that’s why he’s nervous. If he names me, I’m going to kill him. In fact, I’d walk out now, but April’s digging her nails into my forearm.

  “She’s someone I never thought I’d see again. Someone I never wanted to see again. And yet in some cosmic joke, who do I end up running into here?” The audience chuckles. “Right. Crazy, isn’t? The universe knows something. I need new songs, so it sends me my muse.”

  I hold in a scream. I’m his muse now? I suppose that should be flattering, but the last time I served that purpose he wrote hateful things about me.

  “So thanks to her,” Jared continues, “this is the first decent song I’ve written since I came to New Hampshire. It’s only a few days old, but I thought I’d try it out tonight, and you could tell me what you think.”

  I think I feel sick; that’s what. My heart seems to be beating in my throat, my lungs aren’t working, and I’m getting clammy.

  Hannah pats my head while people clap and cheer.

  “It’s called ‘Muse,’” Jared says. “Very creative, I know. I should probably change that.”

  More clapping and some laughter fills the pause, then it dies away as Jared plays.

  All alone, another night sitting here

  I’m watching the waves

  I catch a scent on the breeze, a voice in my ear

  Singing to me, cutting through me

  I need to move but every muscle’s clenched.

  I can’t bring back the past

  I can’t unwind the time

  And I can’t let go

  I can’t walk away

  I need you here, to stay

  My muse

  Pressure builds inside me. I want to run over to Jared and throw my arms around him, but I’m afraid I’m misinterpreting his song. What if it’s no more truly truthful than “Daddy’s Girl”? I don’t know whether to scream or cry.

  I want to fight, lash at the waves below

  If it does mean what I want it to, then how dare he do this publicly again? How dare he fling his feelings all over the beach instead of sharing them with me first? I need to stop holding so much in, but he needs to stop putting so much out.

  My foot catches a chair leg as I get up, and I almost topple over. Somehow, I steady myself on the table. I think April’s saying something to me, but I can’t hear her. I grab Jayna, and shove my way through the enraptured audience.

  Jared’s already on the bridge when I reach the doors. I gulp the fresh air. My senses return with the intake of oxygen, and I can’t help but listen another second or two because the melody really is lovely...and I really am so...curious.

  She says:

  You can only run so far

  You can only hide so long

  ’Cause I’ve been inside you, right here inside you, here all along

  I
squeeze my eyes shut, and the world wobbles beneath me. My attempt to get to the door has caused a stir. When I open my eyes again, Jared’s noticed. He’s looking my way.

  I’m not going to hold it together much longer, and I’ll die if I cause a scene. I don’t want to be that idiot girl who shows up on YouTube acting like a freak at a Jared Steele concert. Especially not after everything we both went through to keep my name a secret. Besides, it’s not fair to him. He asked for the attention. He should get it. Me? I don’t want it.

  I turn around and run.

  Well, as close to running as I can manage while carrying a guitar, which isn’t all that close. But that’s okay because I don’t need to go far, and I don’t need to go fast. I just need to go away, someplace I can cry in private. It’s not as though Jared can run out after me, although that’s exactly what I want him to do. I want to be able to hit him and scream at him and blubber as I beg him to come back. And if I’d stayed around the coffee shop that’s exactly what I would have done.

  Then I’d have rolled over and died of humiliation.

  It takes forever to get back to the house, and yet I arrive so quickly I’m out of breath.

  No Jared came after me, nor anyone else. I’m on my own. Just me and the mosquitoes and this dull ache squeezing my chest.

  I climb up the porch, and the pain in my face from holding in my tears is unbearable. I manage to drop off my guitar without anyone noticing my return, then I run for real. Finally. Powered by all my pent up emotions, I sprint the entire way to the nearby park and that spot overlooking the ocean. The park’s closed, and I’m the only one around. There, in the darkness where no one can see me, I drop to the grass.

  The odd thing is, I don’t even know what I’m crying for at this point. Yet I hug my knees to my chest, struggling to breathe.

  The night’s clear, and it’s gotten cold with the sunset. My shirt sleeves come down to my elbows, but they’re not long enough. I huddle closer to myself for warmth. My phone announces one text, then two. At three, I shut off the volume. Even though it’s just Hannah and April, I’m not ready to talk because I don’t know what I’d say.

  Somehow “Jared might have written that song about me, and the scab on my heart is totally gone, and I’m bleeding little pieces of it all over the beach as I try to put myself back together, so I’m an emotional mess right now and don’t want to talk to you. But if you see Jared, please send him my way with a pile of Band-Aids. Thanks.” just isn’t going to work.

  I stare at the stars and the water, wishing I’d been strong enough to hold it together in public so that I hadn’t needed to run away and imagining what’s going on back at The Bean Factory. Has Jared sung something else? Is he being mobbed by fans? Signing autographs? Does he care that I’ve left? Are the lyrics just words bent and twisted and polished to fit the tune? Not meant to be taken literally, not truly truthful but mere tools?

  I stare longer. My skin feels like ice to the touch. I should go, I tell myself. Go, go, go. But every time I become convinced I’ve calmed down, the lump in my throat returns.

  “Claire?”

  I scramble to my feet. Jared’s taken the shortcut up the hill, which means he’s walked here from the direction of the house, as well. He doesn’t have his guitar, and it crosses my mind to wonder where’s he left it.

  “When I stopped by the house, your guitar was there but you weren’t,” he says. “And your car was in the driveway so I figured you couldn’t be far.” He stops maybe fifteen feet away from me, under the lone streetlamp in the parking lot. His hands are stuffed in his pockets. He’s wearing a T-shirt and is probably as cold as I am. “I’m sorry. I guess I keep screwing up.”

  “Sorry?” My voice catches on the lump.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you.” Jared sighs and scuffs his sneaker against the asphalt. “I shouldn’t have done that. I was hoping your reaction wouldn’t be to leave. That doesn’t seem like a good sign.”

  I start to speak and end up sniffling. So attractive. “I just couldn’t deal right then. Wait, are you wearing the Buddha I gave you?” The leaf charm on his necklace is gone. What’s replaced it appears to be the silver Buddha, but it’s hard to tell in this light and at this distance.

  “Yeah.”

  “You still have it?” My mouth goes dry.

  Jared makes a funny face.

  Of course he still has it. He’s wearing it.

  “Did you... What you wrote... Is that...” Because you still love me? But my tongue has decided to cease functioning.

  Fortunately, Jared’s always had this weird ability to read my mind. “Yeah. I don’t think I ever stopped.”

  Before I can command my feet to be still, I’m throwing my arms around him. Jared gives me a moment of panic, but I think it’s only the shock that freezes him. Because then he’s holding me just as tightly as I’m holding him.

  My tears return for an encore, and I bury my face in Jared’s chest. He’s so warm, and I can hear his heart beating, and every breath draws in more of him. I’m afraid to move because it will shatter this moment.

  “So you’re not mad at me?” he asks.

  “I’m over it.”

  “I mean about tonight.”

  “Oh. Am I acting mad? I wish you’d stop sharing your thoughts on our relationship with the world, but I can learn to deal.”

  He kisses the top of my head and runs his hand across my neck, causing me to shiver from everything but the cold. “I’ll try to keep that in mind next time. But then why did you run?”

  “I didn’t want to cry in the middle of the shop.” I sniff again for good measure.

  “Are you crying now? Stop that. You’ll make me cry.”

  I raise my head to dry my eyes. Jared’s are a touch watery, and I smile. “Too late. I see definite signs of—”

  He doesn’t let me finish, which is fine. Kissing him is better than teasing him. This is how kisses are supposed to be. Just like I remember them. Just like no time has passed since our last one. When we pull apart I’m out of breath and can barely stand.

  “I can’t believe how much I’ve missed that.”

  “Me, neither.”

  I’m dying to kiss him again, but I take a moment to smooth down that stupid eyebrow hair of his. It makes me insanely happy.

  Jared, however, snags my hand. “Oh, no. I can’t believe you’re starting that already, too. Knock it off.”

  “What? It’s been bugging me for the past month. You should let me pull it.”

  “I will kick your ass.”

  I’m not sure how that leads to more kissing, but it does, just like it always did.

  “I’m so sorry,” Jared says this time when we break apart.

  I nestle my head back on his chest. “You’re sorry? I’m the one who started it.”

  “And I’m the one who didn’t stop it. I shouldn’t have let you get away like that. I was so pissed and feeling abused by your family, so I threw a fit and it wasn’t fair to you.”

  I glance up. “Yeah, well. Now that you mention it, it would have been nice if you’d returned one of my calls. Or even texted me to let me know you were alive.”

  “That’s exactly what I mean. I was an idiot.”

  I wrap my arms around him as we walk aimlessly. “Well, if you hadn’t run off to New York, you’d never be where you are now so something good came of it. Honestly, if I could go back to that day, I’m not sure I’d do anything different. I don’t mean that I’d want to hurt you, and I really needed you around, but I would have done anything to make my mom feel better. Your mom is awesome, and she’d never put you in the same position, but you’d do anything for her. I know you would. You’d want to be there for her. I needed to be there for mine. It’s just she wasn’t quite as awesome in that way about us, so I was under a lot of stress.�
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  I can see from the set of Jared’s jaw that my admission hurts him, but he pulls me closer. “I know. Maybe sometimes every decision is wrong in some way. I listened to all the messages you left me, read all your texts. I knew about your mom, and I should have been there for you. Then everything started happening so fast. By the time I figured out it all out, I couldn’t call you. I tried. I stared at the phone, but I couldn’t do it. I felt like such a jerk because you’re right—if I’d been you, I don’t know if I’d have done anything different, either.”

  I entwine my fingers with his, yearning for as much contact as possible. Part of me fears letting go. It all feels so fragile.

  So much in life seems random, and who am I to wonder whether it truly is, or if the alien gods are just having fun weaving together our threads? Something about Jared’s words don’t make sense to me though. “So, if you weren’t angry at me for dumping you anymore, then why were you so mean to me earlier?”

  “Was I really mean? It was weird, and I didn’t know what to do. I thought if I could be angry at you again, I wouldn’t have to worry about wanting you back. It’s not like you acted thrilled to see me, either.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t.”

  “Honestly, you were pretty bitchy.”

  “Yeah, well, I was pissed about your songs.”

  Jared squeezes my hand. “I got that. But I’ve learned my lesson. I like you too much to hate you. So if you ever attempt to leave me again, I will chase you down until you give up and admit you’re wrong.”

  “And will you write a song for your next album about how your ex really isn’t a bitch, but a wonderful person, and you’re so happy to have her back?”

  He makes a suspicious face. “Is this a test? I thought you didn’t want me writing songs about you anymore.”

  “I’m making an exception this time.”

  He pulls me closer and I tumble into him. “Good, because I’m already working on it.”

  “Really?”

  “No.” He grins. “But I will if you’ll play on it. You have all this free time before school now, don’t you? You could use a job.”