The Broken Hearts' Society of Suite 17C

by LeighAnn Kopans

  Only then did he see the tears streaming down her face. “Oh no. Amy. What did I do? Whatever I did or said or didn’t say, I’m really sorry. Geez, I seriously screwed up here.” The heartbroken look that curved his eyes down and the whoosh of breath that lowered his chest and slumped his shoulders pushed her to take a deep breath. Now it was her turn to explain.

  “No no no. Matt. No. I’m not upset.” He raised his eyebrows at her, waiting patiently to hear her out, like always. “I mean, I am upset, but not with you. For any reason.” He leaned in further and raised his eyebrows again. “Okay, maybe you’re right about the whole ‘briefing me’ part. That would have been good, probably. But still.” Amy raised her eyes to his, looking for something. Reassurance that what she was about to tell him would be alright, even though she already knew it was. First, one more question.

  “Why did you do that? I mean, why do you do this? I assume it’s not your first time. It seemed like you knew what you were doing.”

  Matt dipped his head into a nod. “Obviously.” He ran his hand over the top of his head, then looked out his dashboard, watching the protestors tuck themselves back into their car. A cold standoff, where each knew neither would win. “I took a women’s studies class my first semester at Northern. Same one your roommate is taking, I think. Anyway, the professor was completely nuts, but she did make me realize just how really, really difficult it is to be a girl. I never really knew. I mean, obviously. I’m a guy. But especially growing up with my moms…well, feminism was always kind of how things went in our house, you know? I didn’t really realize just how involved our society thinks it can be in individual women’s health care.

  “And that’s one thing, you know? To have your own beliefs, to make choices based on your faith. That’s great. But it’s totally another to stand outside a medical care facility and yell at the girls going inside. Anyway, in class we saw a documentary about these guys who spent their weekends helping women’s clinic patients get through the doors without totally losing it. It was just what I needed, because it made me feel like there was something I could do to help. So I went through training, and now I do it. At least two days a week.”

  “Isn’t it dangerous?”

  “Sometimes,” he said in a quieter voice. “Usually it’s more scary than anything. I’ve never been hurt or anything, but the protestors will get in your face. I’ve only heard of one guy getting hit. The most important thing is not to touch a protester, at all, because then legally they can claim battery, and then you’d get mixed up in lawsuits and stuff.”

  One fat tear rolled down Amy’s cheek every couple seconds as she nodded, and bit her lip against speaking. Finally, she got some words out that didn’t threaten to twist her words into a flood of tears. “I just know you’re such a strong Christian. And where I grew up…abortion is not okay with Christians. You know?”

  Matt nodded. “I know. But there are a couple other things I know, too. I know that this—” he motioned out to the parking lot, still calm for the moment “is not about abortion. They’re not here because they want to save babies. They’re here because their self-righteousness and absolute arrogance that their beliefs are the one truth have overshadowed the number one thing that is supposed to make us Christians—acting as Jesus would have.”

  “And you think Jesus would be okay with abortion? You think he would protect those girls, encourage them to do what they’re doing? Killing babies?” Now her lip trembled as she repeated what she had heard, in one form or another, since she was small girl.

  “I think Jesus saw people, and He saw their pain, and He loved them, and whether or not He would have done what they had done, would have made the decisions they made, wasn’t even part of the thought process. He took care of them, and He takes care of us, no matter what. He was perfect because He didn’t let anything get in the way of that. And I believe that that’s what Christians are charged to do. No more, no less. It’s so simple, but for so many people, it’s impossible. I don’t want to be like everyone else. I want to do what I know is right.”

  Every single word rang clear, not just to her ears, but to her heart. It was like Matt had scanned Amy’s soul, figured out exactly what she needed to hear to finally feel better, and said it to her in the most straightforward, wonderful way possible.

  “And,” Matt continued, “I don’t think they’re killing their babies. I think they’re making a tough medical decision to keep themselves alive, in one way or another. I think they’re doing what they have to do. And I think most of them do it after deep thought, and with great sorrow, but with nowhere else to turn. I want them to know that there are people out there that they can turn to, and I think it’s very important that some of those people are doing it with the inspiration of Jesus.” He shot a glance at Amy, who still bit her bottom lip, trying to keep it at least appearing steady. “And that’s all I’m going to talk about theology, because as you can see, there is lots of work to do on this front. And if I keep talking I’m going to sound like a greeting card, and I know you don’t want to hang out with a sappy poem of a guy. And also, if we don’t hurry to get back I’m going to miss Naked and Afraid and you know how I feel about that show.”

  The purposeful quirk in his lip, testing her to see if everything he said was okay, made her giggle, then laugh, then start seriously, full-on crying. Tears poured down her face, snot filled her nose, and she felt unbearably awkward and one hundred percent at home all at once.

  “Seriously, Amy. Are you okay?” Matt reached out and brushed a damp bang back from her face, and then something utterly otherworldly happened—his touch was electrifying, setting every part of her on edge.

  “I’m okay,” she nodded, trying to figure out how she could ever tell Matt everything that just went through her head, had just twisted her heart. He still watched her, questioning, watchful and caring.

  “Will she be okay in there?” Amy asked, blowing her nose.

  “Yeah, she’ll be in there for another couple of hours, and there will be another escort here to get her home. She came alone,” he finished softly.

  “Well,” Amy said, with a whooshing sigh of relief as she watched the protesters pack up in their car and pull out of their spot, “I know how she feels. I was there, six months ago.”

  Matt’s mouth dropped open a bit, but he quickly closed it. Clearly putting his skills as an abortion clinic expert to work. For a split second, Amy froze, terror that she may have just ruined whatever it was she’d just felt between her and Matt with that bit of information seizing her words and her breath. But in the next moment, she watched his fingers reach for hers, wrap around the back of her hand, squeeze. Warmth coursed through her as she took in a shuddering breath and started to tell her story.

  She told him everything, reminding him that Adam had been the pastor’s kid, and her family had been lifelong church members. They’d been together for four years, and planned to be together forever. Which was why she’d finally agreed to lose her virginity to him on prom night.

  “I’d thought about it for a while,” Amy said, looking down at her hand, which had stopped shaking, but had started to grow sweaty, under Matt’s. She didn’t care. His touch was grounding. “I’d wanted to, you know, have sex. But they’d always said it was my job to keep myself pure. For my future husband, to guard my heart and to save myself for him. But Adam had been pushing to go farther, saying that we were going to get married anyway, so what was the difference if we did it a little sooner?” She sniffed. “If I didn’t really want to, I wouldn’t have—I’m not weak, and I don’t let other people boss me around. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t afraid.” She shot Matt a hard look, and he nodded.

  “I know,” he said softly, leaving the space for her to continue.

  “But, you know, it was prom. And he’d asked me, and I’d had a drink. And we knew each other so well…I loved being with him. I loved him. So we did it.”

  Amy thought she saw Matt’s jaw twitch as he stared out the winds
hield, thought she saw the start of a head shake. But it was like the two of them remembered what he’d said about being judgmental at the same time, and he swallowed. “I see. So you’re worried about…what? That I’ll think you’re a bad person for having sex? Because you shouldn’t…”

  “No,” Amy interrupted, feeling her own hand twitch under Matt’s, watching as his posture took on an edge, one that told Amy he’d heard her warning. That he needed to listen, to calm some of his own jumpiness for her sake. A sense of relief that he had almost perfectly read her signals sunk in.

  “No. That’s not my…issue. Not the main one.” She took another deep breath, commanding her stomach to settle for the next part. She’d melted down in Matt’s car. She owed him an explanation, at least. Not only that, but she wanted to give it to him.

  “Well, uh…three weeks later, I was feeling a little off.” She’d had cramps, lots of them, when she never had them before or during her period. And then her period hadn’t come. “I’d been stressed with cheerleading and end-of-the-year stuff…getting ready for college, planning my summer. You know.”

  Matt nodded.

  “Anyway, it was like an out of body experience. A little voice in my head kept telling me to take a pregnancy test. And it was positive.”

  Matt pressed his lips together and nodded, like he’d known it was coming but hated to hear it at the same time. Again, she squashed down the fear that this would change the way he looked at her, the way he felt about her. She’d started her story, and she was going to own the end of it.

  “So I called Adam, and I told him. He wasn’t horrible or anything—he didn’t accuse me of sleeping around, or get angry—he was just really quiet for a really long time.”

  “Didn’t you guys use a condom? I mean, I don’t want to pry, but…”

  “We did. But we were just guessing at how to use it, really. We thought we’d done it right, but nobody had ever taught us, and it was late, and we’d had things to drink. Anyway.” She swallowed, hard. “He said that the best thing to do would be to end it. The pregnancy,” Amy explained, even though she didn’t have to. “That it was so early, that it wouldn’t hurt anything, but if we had the baby, he’d have to stay home and work instead of going to college. That his mom and dad would want us to get married right away, and he’d give up his scholarship, his spot on the team, our future. He’s going to the NFL, you know.”

  Matt scoffed and stared intently out the windshield again.

  “He said that if we got an abortion, we’d be protecting our future. And that we’d have a house full of babies later, and it would all be okay. That we’d make up for it.” The tears started again, even though Amy had begun to numb, all over, inside and out. “I couldn’t talk to my mom—I knew she’d freak out. Knowing my dad, he’d make me confess the whole thing in front of the church. There’s a home in Nebraska a few girls from our church went to so they could have their babies, then give them up. I knew that’s where I would end up. Either that, or in a shotgun wedding, with a miserable, resentful husband.” Just the idea of Adam as a husband, after everything he’d done, made her roll her eyes. “There was just…nothing for me. No options.”

  “Amy, I’m…that’s really awful. I’m just really sorry.”

  “That’s not the worst part,” she said, the tears starting to come harder. This was it—her confession. Just like always, Matt waited for it patiently. And for the last time, she worried that he’d hate her. “The worst part was that I didn’t want the baby either. I felt so sick. I’d heard people say that you felt so much love, the minute you got pregnant. I just felt like something horrible had taken over my body, and was taking away my choices.”

  She paused to breathe for a few seconds. “Adam didn’t come with me to my intake appointment at the clinic. He gave me half the money, at least. But then on the morning I had scheduled, he called and said he was sick. I don’t know if he really was,” she said, shrugging. “Anyway, I didn’t even cry. I didn’t feel anything except that I knew I was doing the right thing. Until the protesters came.”

  “Let me guess. There was no escort where you went.”

  Amy pursed her lips together, shaking her head back and forth slowly, methodically, trying to come up with the words for the end of the story. “They eased up on me when I came out after fifteen minutes. The girls having the abortions are in there for a couple hours,” Amy finished softly. “That night—I don’t know if it was the stress or the guilt or if I didn’t love the baby and somehow, it knew. Or God knew. But I miscarried, and I never ended up going in. I tore up the papers from my intake, and after that it was like the whole thing never happened. Just like Adam said it would be. Nothing to prove what a horrible person I am.”

  “Amy. Ames,” Matt said, sliding his hand up and around her shoulders. “Please tell me you don’t believe that. Please tell me you don’t think I believe that.”

  She spent several long seconds looking out the window, then said, “I don’t know what I believe, not about myself. Sometimes, not even about God. But,” she said as she turned to him, “now I know that we can be friends. Real friends. And I can’t tell you what that means to me.” The tears freshly flowed when she gave in to Matt’s pulling her to him, fit her forehead in the crook of his neck, and breathed in his warmth, felt the strength of him holding her.

  Eventually, the tears stopped, and she felt Matt’s hold loosen. “It’s dinnertime,” he murmured. “Let me feed you something.” She nodded, and before she could pull away, Matt buried his lips in her hair. It caught her off guard, arrested her thoughts. It wasn’t something a guy who was just a friend would do, but, she decided as she slowly pulled back, it was definitely something Matt would do. Right now, that was all that mattered. She managed to pull herself from him and fall against the seat behind her, and let the rhythm of Matt’s car rumbling back down the highway carry her into a deep sleep.

  My first love broke up with me because he thought he was going to lose me to his best friend.

  Jeremy was the charismatic one. He was tall and charming. He could sing. He was smart and loved to act. He played basketball and could grow facial hair. Everyone loved him. Everyone except me.

  I loved Josh, Jeremy’s best friend. Josh was short and funny. He could turn anything into a joke. He was sarcastic and irreverent. He loved his baby sister with a passion. He looked like his daddy. He had eyes that scrunched at the corners and hands that engulfed mine, and he made me feel so so safe and special. He told me he wanted to marry me. He even gave me his mother’s engagement ring as a promise ring.

  After college, he promised.

  But Josh had always felt inferior to Jeremy. Jeremy was popular and Josh was too, in his own right. But he didn’t have girls fawning over him. He had me. Just me. I wasn’t popular. I was small with big hair and too-pale skin and poor parents. But Josh loved me and that was okay.

  I was friends with Jeremy purely because he was friends with Josh. Jeremy was friendly to me. He lived nearby so he occasionally gave me rides to school. I don’t think he would have if I hadn’t been Josh’s girlfriend. Jeremy was a bit stuck-up. His daddy made me feel uncomfortable. When I told my teachers he’d made me feel weird, they told me to ignore it. He’s like that with all the females.

  One afternoon, Jeremy told me he was going to pick me up early for school because our choir was going to a competition. He wanted breakfast so he was going to drive through McDonalds and figured it’d be easier to get me and we’d both go. Josh, who wasn’t in the choir, interpreted this to mean Jeremy was trying to steal me. Josh showed up at my house that night and asked me if I was going to leave him for Jeremy. I said no.

  He didn’t believe me.

  So he left first. He asked for the ring back and left me first so I couldn’t hurt him.

  He was my first boyfriend. He was the first boy I ever loved. And the first one I ever cried myself to sleep over.

  ~Tristina Wright

  Arielle

  It had
been the longest week of Arielle’s life.

  Technically it had only been four days and fourteen hours. Not that she was counting. She’d gone through a brutal cycle every 24 hours or so since she’d last seen Lauren, one that started with relative cheeriness and coffee, usually involved some moony doodling or daydreaming at inappropriate times during class, and ended with her laying on the floor of the dorm, trying to focus on some stupid reality show, Naked and Afraid, which Amy had inexplicably started watching, trying to distract herself.

  The weekend had made things complicated. For one, Arielle had way too much free time, since she hadn’t ever actually signed up for any of those things she’d collected fliers for all the way back at the involvement fair. Probably because she’d been too consumed by crushing grief.

  This morning, that sadness was nothing more than an annoying twinge. Funny how the deep, desperate pain of getting dumped by Rachel had been largely numbed by making out with a beautiful girl in the rain.

  For another, Arielle’s main mission was to catch sight of Lauren over the weekend, and not to admit how pathetic her plan was to her roommates. She’d declared to her roommates that she wouldn’t turn into a crazy Lauren-stalker over the agonizing five-day wait, and they’d sworn to hold her to that promise. Now, of course, all Arielle wanted to do was lay eyes on Lauren again, be close to her for even just a minute. But she’d look totally pathetic if she just sat in different locations all around campus by herself, and she didn’t have any friends at this godforsaken school other than Amy and Rion.

  Rion had to work Saturday afternoon, but agreed to hang out with Arielle for brunch. “How did you know this existed?” Arielle asked, sliding into a shining red melamine booth across from Rion, who looked strange without her usual pounds of eye makeup.