Shattered Heart

by Ann Stewart

  “Your fan club seems very…desperate. No sorry, determined.” I point my chin in their direction as I turn to pack up the laptop and gather the left over packets. Alex follows my eyes and notices the group as they quickly look away, trying not to seem obvious. Nice try girls.

  “Huh.” Alex kneels down opening the rolling suitcase to help me pack away the left over materials. “Maybe there is a thin line between determination and desperation.” We both erupt in laughter.

  After we finish packing away the laptop, Alex grabs the handle of the rolling suit case from me and starts to walk to the exit. “So, I have an idea.”

  “What’s that?” I ask, slowing down our pace as we get closer to his fan club.

  “Well, I was thinking we should go out on a date.”

  “When did you have a chance to think about this? Was this while your old friend,” I air quote as I accentuate the word friend, “has been blatantly checking you out since the moment we arrived. Or was this when you were asked out in front of a few hundred people?”

  He ignores my snippy comments and dives right into his explanation. “We would be friends, who would be going out together, who also enjoy each other’s company. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Alllleeeex…” I draw out his name, hoping to seem playful when I’m actually a bundle of nerves. He wants a date, like a full blown date. I bite the inside of my cheeks as I contemplate the idea.

  “You look adorable when you do that.” He shouldn’t find me adorable; then again, I shouldn’t like it so much that he does.

  “Alex!” I look around, hoping that no one has heard our conversation. The crowd around us seems inconsequential to him.

  “What? Are we not friends?” he questions while we maneuver toward the exit.

  “I think you know the answer to that question.” We are far from friends. My heart’s more invested than that.

  Alex stops, causing the crowd to shuffle around us. “Let me get this straight. I can’t have you…and I can’t be your friend? How’s that fair?” I shake my head and open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off. “After dinner with Tricia, I want to take you out.” He takes a step forward, now only inches away from me. “Time with you; that’s all I’m asking.”

  I contemplate his request. He already has every other part of me, what’s a little time. I’m branded to the core, my heart, my soul, everything, including and especially the baby I’m carrying. “Fine Alex, time…I can give you that. Just promise me one thing.”

  “Anything.” His voice lightens, realizing that I’m giving in to his requests.

  “Wherever we go, it has to be somewhere public with lots of people.”

  His brows furrow, “Public…why?”

  “Safer that way. It will keep everything…PG-13,” I joke.

  “Hart, do you really think a room full of people could keep me away from you?” His fingers brush against my arm as he passes me, walking out of the conference room..

  Silently I answer his question. No, but a girl can hope for a little sympathy on her soul. Can’t she?

  ~~~~~

  Torture is defined as the action of inflicting pain on someone as punishment; at times for the sheer pleasure of inflicting pain.

  Well, that’s what dinner is…torture.

  We met Tricia at six o’clock at the hotel steakhouse. I recognized the gentleman with her from the first day we arrived. I learned his name is Tom and he works alongside Tricia as the VP of Marketing. From an outside observer, dinner could have easily been mistaken for a double date. Except in this case, Tricia seemed to be under the impression that Alex is who deserved her sole attention as she batted her lashes at him and continued to rub her foot against his shin throughout the meal.

  How do I know, you ask? Well, she gave it away when she initially mistook my leg for his.

  Small talk ensued, but the hot topic of conversation always lead back to Alex and his newfound relationship. Of course, Tricia hounded him. She’s relentless. And when Alex confessed his relationship was new and he was taking it slow, Tricia made the already awkward conversation even more uncomfortable. Letting anyone within earshot know that the Alex she knew didn’t do any other speed besides warp speed, which usually led to the bedroom. She chuckled; I, of course, didn’t find it funny. Thankfully, neither did Alex.

  Throughout dinner Alex eased my torment by continuously placing his hand on my knee or running his fingers along my arm under the guise of the table. Or, maybe I shouldn’t say he eased it, because by the time dinner was over, my body was humming with anticipation.

  I can stop you right there and let you know how aware I am of the back and forth my heart and mind are battling with each other. It was just the other day that I left him at the bar, breaking him and myself yet again, only to reunite with him yesterday. What can I say? He’s so deep in my soul, it’s hard to breathe.

  Fortunately, we had already made plans to spend time together, so when Tricia and Tom suggested we go to the lounge, Alex quickly explained we had prior engagements we needed to fulfill. And since we tried to rush through dinner as fast as possible, it was early enough that we had time to do something we both enjoyed.

  When Alex asked what I wanted to do, he was a little surprised when I suggested roller skating. It’s been years since I’ve been; the last memory being with Rachel when I was in middle school. And even though I love my sister to pieces, when I was a hormone fueled, boy-crazed teenager, I wanted nothing more than to have a boy hold my hand during a slow song at the rink.

  Alex helps me out of the rented SUV, but hasn’t touched me since dinner, and continues not to touch me as we head into the building. We agreed to spend time together as friends, so I’m happy he’s respecting those boundaries. But, I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t also feel a pang of disappointment, especially after he was so attentive earlier.

  “What in the world possessed you to want to go skating?” Alex hands a few bills over to the cashier as she makes change and places bright green paper bracelets around our wrists.

  “You’ll laugh.”

  “Try me.” We walk to the rental counter where we will surely share athlete’s foot with the numerous people who have rented the skates before us.

  “When I was a teenager, Rachel used to take me all the time. It was sort of our thing. As I got older, I’d pay attention to the couples and how they always looked like they were having such a good time together. I guess it’s something I’ve always wanted.” I blush, fidgeting with the hem of my sweater.

  “I find it hard to believe that some boy didn’t take you up on the opportunity to hold your hand.”

  “I was an awkward teenager. Some of us weren’t God-like from the start.” I bump against him.

  “Well, let’s go. This God wants to make your inner teenager swoon with boy band fanaticism.”

  Alex leads me to the benches that surround the smooth, wood surface. It’s practically empty in here and that might actually be a good thing. It’s been too long and I already know I’m going to make a fool out of myself in front of Alex; I don’t need any more witnesses.

  I sit, taking off my shoes, readying to place my skates on. I’m pleasantly surprised when Alex drops to a knee in front of me and starts to fix the laces of my skates, helping me put them on. “Thank you,” I whisper. Seeing him on his knees in front of me brings only two things to mind; neither being feasible possibilities in public.

  His brows rise. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “What’s that?” My cheeks feel red imagining what Alex would think if he could only read my mind.

  “Time for your first question.” We agreed on our way over here that we would force ourselves to get to know each other better, something we never really had the opportunity to do before. So, we made a game of it; the more difficult the question, the more points you get for answering. If you refuse to answer, then you get points deducted. The winner at the end of the night gets to name their prize. Sounds simple enoug
h, right?

  I place my hands on his shoulders as he continues to put my skates on. I nod, gesturing for him to ask away. “This is worth one point.”

  “Wait, how do you determine the point value?”

  “The more difficult the question, the more points its worth.” I nod in understanding. “What did you think of me when you first saw me?”

  “In the elevator?”

  “No, at the gas station.”

  That’s too easy. “I thought that you were cocky.” He laughs as he sits next to me and works the laces on his own skates. Alex seems slightly disappointed by my answer. Of course that’s only half the truth. I sigh. “I thought you had the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. I thought you were way out of my league, but…it didn’t stop me from regretting not saying anything to you before I left.”

  “You regretted it?”

  I nod. “I drove away wondering if I missed my chance. Lucky for me, I didn’t.”

  “So, you don’t regret what happened between us?” I turn to face him with a look of shock. Does he regret it?

  “I could never regret what happened between us. Are we where we thought we’d end up? Probably not, but I don’t regret what I experienced when I was with you. Most people love someone a fraction of what I feel for you. I, at least, get to say that I gave my whole heart to someone. I loved fearlessly.” Okay, maybe not fearlessly, at least not in the end.

  “I think that was worth at least 5 points,” I joke hoping to cut through the fog of tension surrounding us.

  Alex absorbs the weight of what I just told him before standing and extending his hand to me. “Alright Hart, show me what you got.” He pulls me up and we both take calculated steps toward the gleaming hardwood floor.

  “I’ve got moves you’ve never seen.” I turn backwards and glide across the floor, giving him a mischievous grin before turning and making my way around the rink. I dig my heels into the floor and push forward faster and faster. It’s like riding a bike. I haven’t felt this carefree and young in what feels like forever. Life got too heavy, too quick. I forgot to appreciate the joys while I was busy focusing on all of the deception, lies, and heartache.

  I’ve been selfish. This baby, my LJ, needs to become my world. I need to love and protect him or her as much as I possibly can. I need to think of the best decisions in life for the baby, which does not include the extreme amount of drama and stress I’ve been under lately. I need a break from my life.

  As I make my way around to the entrance I’m halted in my tracks and break out in fits of laughter. I watch as Alex scoots forward, his knees bent with his arms in front of him holding onto an imaginary guide in hopes of not falling on his ass. I push towards him and stop just as he slips and falls back, catching himself with the palms of his hands. He curses, showing every bit of his aggravation. Alex never said he couldn’t skate and even though I feel slightly bad for him, I love seeing him vulnerable.

  “Need some help there?” He looks up at me as I hold my hand out to him. He hesitates, but eventually holds on as we both work together to get him standing again. “Why didn’t you tell me you don’t skate?”

  “I figured it couldn’t be that hard.”

  “You’ve never skated before?”

  Alex shakes his head. “I thought we established that I didn’t have the most conventional childhood.” I almost wish I didn’t ask, because his voice is lifeless and indifferent, as if he’s done dealing with his shitty past and doesn’t expect any sympathy.

  “Well, there’s no better time than the present to learn.” I wrap my arm around his waist and hold on, balancing him as I give him step by step instructions. He, of course, is a quick learner and soon we’re both slowly gliding around the rink, hand in hand. His earlier scowl now replaced with a carefree smile, one that lights up my life. I’m happy that I got to teach him something. If nothing else, he’ll always remember the girl that taught him how to skate.

  “Hungry?” Alex questions, eyes roaming to the snack bar.

  “We just ate an hour ago.”

  “Hey, I’m a growing boy,” he smirks and pulls me off the floor, en route to the overwhelming aroma of deep fried everything on a stick. “Besides, we haven’t had our dessert.”

  My tummy grumbles. The baby seems to like the idea of something sweet. With how close Alex and I are standing, it could be the melodic tone of Alex’s voice that has the baby nudging me towards my bit of happiness. He orders us sodas, which I quickly change to bottled water, along with a deep fried Twinkie and funnel cake.

  I scrunch my nose when he turns towards me. His dimple face makes my chest ache. I love seeing him happy and if deep fried Twinkies and dough brings this out of him, I’d spend the rest of my days in a kitchen and pregnant, frying up anything and everything we could get our hands on. After refusing my help, he tilts his head toward a table and carries our array of treats while carefully balancing on his skates.

  We sit and immediately Alex starts to cut a piece of the battered pastry. “This looks disgusting.” I take in the plate with apprehension, watching him slowly lick his finger lightly coated in whipped cream. Lucky finger. My mind races and my body hums remembering where that tongue was not that long ago: my moment of weakness in his office, just days after he returned.

  “Stop being a baby and just try it.” He holds the fork up to my mouth. I cringe, but give in to his persistence and open, allowing him to feed me the doughy concoction. I honestly didn’t think I would like it and hate that I love the taste of the fluffy pastry, mixed with the deep fried batter with cream. Alex waits, his eyes searching my face for a sign of my approval. My lips turn into a smile as I continue to chew. “You like it, don’t you.”

  I nod. “Definitely not what I expected,” I murmur through a mouth full of food.

  “Best things usually aren’t.” His statement is right on so many levels. I drop my eyes, but moments later look up through my lashes at him. I know my cheeks are red. The way he’s looking at me, he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Earlier, when you were looking at me, what were you thinking about?” I know he’s referring to my dirty thoughts as his tongue wiped the tip of his finger clean. I shake my head.

  “Nope. It’s my turn to ask a question.” He nods, reaching forward and feeding me another piece of funnel cake. My lips are coated with powdered sugar, and now it’s my turn to lick the excess off. I swear I hear Alex groan, but dismiss the thought and focus on my first question. I’m torn on what to ask, but know this is definitely the time to ask him something I’ve been dying to know. “Who did you lose your virginity to?” I smirk, thinking this will be an embarrassing story of adolescence.

  I regret my words as his demeanor changes. He drops his fork to the paper plate resting on the table, not quite angry, but his tone is definitely not playful. “Why would you want to know about that?”

  “Just curious, I guess. You know about mine, and I suppose I’ve always wanted to know.” He shakes his head, looking at the top of the table, probably contemplating if he wants to share. I give him an out. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  “No, deals a deal. But this is worth ten points.” He runs his fingers along the grooves of the slotted table. It takes a minute, but when he starts to speak I realize how hard this is. His voice is shaky. “I was young, around eleven or twelve. My Dad took me on one of his binges to the bar. Like always, while he went in and got plastered, I’d stay in the car and wait for him. I was used to it. If it was late, I fell asleep in the backseat.” Alex pauses. I reach forward taking his hand for comfort. I’m not quite sure if it was to comfort him or myself.

  “Eventually, he came out and he had a woman with him. He never hid his women from me, barely hid them from my Mom. He’s an asshole, Elyssa, even bringing them to the house. But this night, we went to some sleazy motel. He turned on the TV and told me to keep watching and not look back. So, that’s what I did. Even at my young age, I knew what he was doing. Even his whore knew
it was wrong, me being in the same room, but he told her to shut the fuck up and ignore me.”

  My heart drops. Dealing with sexuality is already difficult enough. Then to add the fuckedupness of dealing with your Dad’s perverted sexual inhibitions…you don’t need to be a psychologist to understand why Alex is the way he is.

  “I was quiet. I knew my place and I had my ass handed to me enough times that I learned my lesson. Do not interrupt him while he was enjoying himself. But, the woman was complaining. She kept telling him that it wasn’t working.” Alex can see the confusion on my face.

  “He got frustrated cause he couldn’t get it up. He blamed her, but…he was a fucking drunk, so I’m sure that crap messed him up. Next thing I know, I’m being yanked up by my shoulders and tossed next to a woman three times my age who smelled like alcohol and cigarettes.” He stops to take a breath. “I’ll never forget how her lipstick was smeared across his lips and chin and the dark circles under her eyes.”

  ”Alex…” He interrupts me to continue.

  “My Dad moved to the other bed. He told me what to do. Told her what to do. I refused at first, but after a few punches to the jaw, I just couldn’t take it anymore. Shit. No child should ever have to go through this.” Alex takes another breath, tugging at his hair. “Same with her, he roughed her up and that’s when she realized it was easier to just get it over with. I learned how to put a condom on by some floozy that my Dad picked up at a bar. She rode me while my Dad watched.

  “So you see, I didn’t have a conventional introduction to sex. It explains why I ended up the way I did. I thought I could do normal with you, but obviously I’m just as fucked up as he was. I know nothing else, but honestly, I tried with you. I honestly did, Elyssa. It’s a good thing you ended it with me. It’s disgusting everything I’ve done. You don’t deserve that inside you.”

  Thankfully we’re alone, because this conversation just got a little too heavy for anywhere, especially a roller skating rink. Alex holds the burden of his past on his shoulders, which any respectable person knows, as a child it isn’t something that was his fault. Which I assume no one has ever told him. Then again, I’m sure he hasn’t told anyone the abuse he’s experienced at the hands of his father. My eyes fill with tears as I strain to keep my emotions in check.