Bend Me, Break Me

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  “Yes.”

  “Something with Coen?” I nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?” I shook my head.

  “It must have been pretty bad to put you in this state.” I shrugged.

  “Did he hurt you?” I knew what she was asking.

  “Not like that. He lied to me about everything. He wasn’t the person I thought he was.” She made a sympathetic sound and then told me she’d be right back with the threat that if I moved from my bed, she would hunt me down.

  I followed orders and just sipped my tea.

  She came back with a candle, a bottle of wine, and a bottled drink that turned out to be some sort of protein shake.

  “Drink this,” she said, handing me the shake. It was strawberry flavored and not too bad. Once I finished it, she lit the candle and then got two clean coffee cups and poured us each some wine.

  “Okay, let’s talk.” She flopped on the bed next to me and settled in, as if she was staying for a sleepover.

  “How about no,” I said, sipping the wine. It was red, but sweet. Like berries.

  “Okay, fine, I’ll talk. So, the last girl I dated turned out to be straight. Talk about a lesbian cliché.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Is it?”

  She snorted.

  “Yeah, it is. Falling for straight girls. Anyway, I fell head over heels and then she broke up with me and started dating a guy and told me that she’d just been curious. I’ve been dealing with my poor shattered heart ever since.” I drank the wine slowly. I didn’t want to overdo it.

  The scent of the candle slowly filled the room. Lavender. Light and calming.

  “That sucks,” I said.

  “Pretty much.” She kept talking, telling me about all her failed relationships, even those she’d had with guys in high school. It was more information than I really needed to know, but she just kept talking.

  Something about Lacey just made me relax. Made me feel like I was safe. In the back of my mind, a voice reminded me of Coen and how he’d hurt me.

  And as soon as I’d thought about him, I started talking. At first I tried to keep things general, but eventually the whole story came out. Lacey reached out and took my hands, giving me something to ground myself as I talked.

  “And now I don’t know what to do. I’m so, so angry at him. But then there’s the way I felt about him. Was that a lie? He told me it was real and it felt real.” He couldn’t fake the way our kisses made my heart race. And the sparks that burst on my skin when he touched me. Or the flips that my stomach did when he smiled at me.

  “Wow. That was… not what I’d expected.” I’d told her about my family as well. There was no way to tell her about Coen and avoid that.

  “I am so sorry that happened to you, Ingrid.” She leaned forward and gave me another hug, patting my back. She was going to be an excellent nurse.

  “Thanks,” I said. When I pulled back, I didn’t see pity in her eyes and it was a relief.

  “Someday, you might want to write a book,” she said and I almost laughed.

  “I don’t think anyone would want to read it. Too depressing.”

  “You don’t know that. Your story isn’t over yet.” It felt like it was.

  “And as far as Coen is concerned, do what feels right. I’m definitely not going to tell you that you have to talk to him, or forgive him or anything. That’s your call to make.” I finished the wine and held my empty cup out for more. She poured it and I felt the warmth of the wine start to thaw me from the inside out. I was still cold when I’d gotten back to my room. I’d covered myself in blankets, but they hadn’t done any good.

  “Thank you. For everything,” I said and she just waved her hand.

  “That’s what friends do for one another.” Friends. The word meant so many things.

  It took me several days of recovery before I was able to get up and go to class. Even when I did, I didn’t take notes or pay attention. My grades were going to be awful this semester. But I was going to keep going. I had to at least graduate for my parents. They’d wanted it so much for me.

  Coen wasn’t in class for over a week and when he did show up, I wanted to cry. He looked terrible. Probably what I’d looked like on that day when Lacey brought the wine. She’d been checking in on me every day since, making sure I was eating and we’d talk about this and that.

  I almost didn’t see him when he walked in because his hair was greasy and in his eyes. Not in a good way. His shoulders were rounded as if he had caved in on himself.

  I imagined running up to him and throwing my arms around him and saying that I forgave him. That I still wanted him in my life. Telling him that I thought I had been falling in love with him.

  That was what I realized when I was talking with Lacey. That even if it had all been a lie, that part had been real. I’d fallen slowly, almost against my will, but I had fallen nonetheless. The smile, the light in his eyes, the way he got me to laugh even when I didn’t want to. His sweet presents and just… him. It was just Coen. Everything about him.

  He didn’t look for me. Just took a seat in the back and didn’t so much as glance in my direction.

  It was the same the next class and the next. In some ways, it was like going back to the way things were before I met him, and in other ways it wasn’t. We could never go back to not knowing one another. He’d made an indelible mark on my life, whether he intended to or not. That wasn’t going to go away and my hurt and anger couldn’t erase it.

  At the end of our last class before Thanksgiving break, I couldn’t take it anymore. He’d darted out of the room as soon as the professor had dismissed us and I raced up the stairs to follow him. I had no idea what I was doing, but I needed to talk to him.

  “Coen!” I called as I pushed through the doors. I’d yelled so loud that people walking by stared at me. I ignored them.

  “Coen!” He stopped, but didn’t turn around. I walked until I was just behind him and then I tapped him on the shoulder.

  He turned slowly and the look in his eyes made me want to cry and kiss his cheeks and hold him close. For a moment we just stared at each other and then I spoke.

  “Will you have coffee with me?”

  I couldn’t believe it. After weeks of silence, she had called my name. I thought I’d imagined it at first, but then she said it again. I didn’t face her until she tapped me on the shoulder and then asked me if we could have coffee together. I almost broke down completely then. Was so close to completely losing it.

  But I swallowed and followed her to the coffee shop where we’d first talked. Only this time, she got coffee for me and tea for herself and brought it over, pushing it toward me. I waited for her to speak first.

  “I’m still mad at you. So mad. You did a shitty thing, Coen. You hurt me and it’s going to take me a long time to come back from that. You betrayed me. You, the only person I trusted.” I took the verbal lashing with my head bowed. I deserved every word and more.

  She stopped and then took a breath.

  “But. The only thing worse than deciding to forgive you and becoming friends with you would be never being friends with you again. So even though I’m probably an idiot, I want us to be friends again.” I looked up and wondered if I was hallucinating. She couldn’t be saying the words I thought she was saying.

  “What?”

  A slow smile crept onto her face.

  “I miss you. It was real for me, too.” Oh, fuck. Before I knew what I was doing, I was on my feet and sweeping her up into my arms, crushing her into my chest. She made a little squeaking noise, but her arms wound around me and she hugged me back. I inhaled as deeply as I could, filling my lungs with her.

  “I never thought I would hear you say that. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve any of it.” People in the shop were staring, but I couldn’t give a flying fuck. I had Ingrid in my arms and I was never going to let go.

  She leaned back a little so she could look up into my face.

  “You may not deserve it, bu
t you’re getting it. There’s more, though.” Her cheeks filled with color.

  “Yeah? What’s that?” And then she said the words that completely stopped my heart.

  “I’m also pretty sure I’m falling in love with you.”

  Then I cried. I buried my face in her hair and cried and I didn’t care if anyone saw it.

  “I don’t know what that says about me, but you were the first good thing in my life after I lost my family and I’ll do whatever I can to keep it,” she said as I tried to hold myself together. I lifted my head.

  “Well, that’s good because I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you, too.” That was a little lie. I was in love with her, but it was going to take time for her to trust me. It wasn’t going to be a switch that she could flip. I was going to have to earn my way into her heart.

  Somehow, some way, I’d earned a second chance with this incredible girl.

  “Is it okay if I kiss you now?” I whispered.

  “Yeah, you can kiss me.” I pressed my lips to hers and I could taste my tears as well as her lips. She kissed me back and I wanted to shout for joy.

  I pulled back so I could stare at her face and smiled.

  “I’m going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, Ing,” I said, brushing her cheeks with my thumbs.

  “I’m okay with that, Coen. I’m definitely okay with that.”

  I would love to say that after that declaration and kiss, things were like a Disney movie and we rode off into the sunset in a white carriage and lived happily ever after.

  But then, that would be another lie.

  It was wonderful to have Coen back in my life. He fit right back into the places he’d left and it was right. It was so right.

  He worked so hard to get me to trust him again and it was work. I needed reassurance and he often had to sit me down and explain that he wasn’t lying to me about something silly. I knew I was insecure, but I couldn’t help it. He was so patient and never got angry with me about it and slowly, surely, we climbed back onto solid ground.

  I became closer with Lacey and she was the one who finally convinced me to try therapy again. I found a group on campus that was for children who had lost their parents and it was good to meet other people who had gone through the same things I had. My demons had plagued me for far too long and it was time to put some of them to rest.

  I got better. I started sleeping and went on medication to help regulate my moods. Coen supported me through it all and even came to therapy with me sometimes and held my hand as I talked about how I couldn’t get past my grief over my family and the guilt I felt for surviving.

  He took me to meet his mother and the first thing she did was wrap me in a hug and tell me how happy she was that I was there. Coen’s family swept me up into their arms and it was good. It was so good.

  It wasn’t perfect, but it was ours. Our story. Our love. Our future.

  Coen helped me see the good in the world, like a light in the darkness. He led me back into life and kept me safe when the world was unkind, as it often is. I did the same for him and we forged ahead.

  Perfectly imperfect together.

  This book is different from any that I’ve written. I knew that when I first envisioned Ingrid. I knew she would be a girl who had suffered unimaginable tragedy and wasn’t handling it very well.

  I’ve been honest online about my own struggles with depression. A year ago I was in a very dark place. I couldn’t get out of bed. Or eat. Or do anything but watch television and even that was hard. I slept all the time and didn’t leave my house. It was bad, but I didn’t think I was depressed, because I wasn’t sad. Fortunately, I went to my doctor and he referred me to a therapist and also put me on medication.

  This year I’m doing much better. There are good days and bad days, but I’d say the majority are good. Therapy helped so much, but the medication did as well. There is no shame in seeking help if you need it.

  This book was not easy for me to write. It took a long time and I wrote it in little pieces and then I’d have to either work on something lighter, or read something sweet to get my head out of it. But I don’t regret writing this book.

  This book is different. There’s no sex. There’s lots of pain and darkness and hurt. There are lies and Ingrid forgives Coen for something that I’m sure many of you wouldn’t forgive him for. But that’s not the point.

  I wrote this story because I had to. Because I wanted to. I wrote this story for me.

  Many thanks go to my editor, formatter (who rocked it at the eleventh hour), publicist, cover designer (who had literally NO guidance and came up with exactly what this book needed), my IRL friends, my online friends and my fellow author friends who are beyond supportive. I’ve reached out so many times to other authors only to discover that they’re going through the same struggles and challenges. We don’t talk enough about how hard this career is. You are not alone.

  For anyone who is dealing with hopelessness, depression, or feeling like they can’t continue anymore, I urge you to reach out. To a friend, a family member, someone online. The world is a better place with you in it.

  There are also organizations that are there, 24 hours a day

  National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

  Chelsea M. Cameron is a YA/NA and Adult New York Times/USA Today Best Selling author from Maine. Lover of things random and ridiculous, Jane Austen/Charlotte and Emily Bronte Fangirl, red velvet cake enthusiast, obsessive tea drinker, vegetarian, former cheerleader and world's worst video gamer.

  When not writing, she enjoys watching infomercials, singing in the car and tweeting. She has a degree in journalism from the University of Maine, Orono that she promptly abandoned to write about the people in her own head. More often than not, these people turn out to be just as weird as she is.

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