Heartache

by Danielle Allen

  I took a deep breath. It felt like Bianca was holding hers.

  “And in the last one, she said that Benjamin told her that I called her a ‘worthless piece of shit.’ He told her that I said that she ruined everything she touched and she would be better off dead.”

  I felt pressure in my chest and I stopped talking. My chest became increasingly tight and I waited for the ache to come, even though I wouldn’t be able to rub it because Bianca’s head was directly over my heart. I waited, but the ache never came. Instead, an intense wave of guilt filled me. My heart would’ve beat out of my chest if Bianca’s head wasn’t blocking its exit.

  “Your heart...” Squeezing me, she nuzzled into me. “Are you okay?”

  No, I’m not okay, I thought as I tried to come up with a response. Not being able to think of anything to say that wouldn’t cause her to worry, I just didn’t say anything at all.

  “You’ve told me a lot, Ro. And I appreciate it so much. If you don’t want to finish…”

  I didn’t say anything for a long time.

  I just listened to her take long, deep breaths. At one point, a slight snore snuck out and I was sure she’d fallen asleep. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but as exhausted as I was, I knew I couldn’t go to sleep without verbalizing the end of the story for the first time in my life.

  Gripping Bianca tighter than I’d ever held anyone, I whispered the words that had haunted me for the last eight years.

  “Benjamin lied to her because he couldn’t get to me. He did it to get back at me. It was my issue with Benjamin, not hers, but he knew if he hurt her that would hurt me. It didn’t have to end up like that. He went too far. He went…” I took a breath. “He went too far, B.”

  “Benjamin sounds like an asshole,” Bianca said, her voice cracking from being quiet for so long. “And he’s a liar. What did Tia say when you told her Ben was lying?”

  “I didn’t get a chance to.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Tia committed suicide.”

  _____

  Chapter Eleven

  I groggily opened my eyes and found myself holding onto Bianca’s sleeping form. Seeing her body curled up against me surprised me, but I was too tired to react.

  What am I doing?

  The heat from her body was too much. I wanted to remove my arm from around her. I needed to put space between us. I didn’t do sleepovers. I didn’t do waking up next to someone. I didn’t do this.

  What time is it? I wondered hazily as I tried to focus my eyes on the clock on the wall. Three in the morning.

  I craned my neck so I could see her face. She was definitely sleeping soundly. Her breathing was steady and even, her full lips were slightly parted, and she made little contented noises every so often. Letting my head drop back to my pillow, I closed my eyes and listened to her. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, it was comfortable. I was comfortable.

  I’m going to get up in a few minutes, I thought, listening to her breathing and feeling her warmth. I don’t want to wake her, I told myself, justifying pulling her closer just before I fell back asleep.

  Unaware of how much time had passed, I woke up with a start. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. I couldn’t breathe and I felt smothered by Bianca’s body. Guilt about Tia’s death caused my heart to ache. Anger toward Benjamin sent adrenaline pumping through my veins. Distrust toward my family—the one I knew and the one I didn’t—overwhelmed me. I felt the sweat on my face, on my body. I felt like I was going to explode.

  My eyes darted around the room, finding the clock. It was almost six o’clock in the morning.

  I need to get up. I need to get away. I need to go for a run.

  I felt disoriented and disconnected. Although my anxiousness and out of control emotions consumed me, I maneuvered myself carefully from under Bianca’s neck. Gently, I cradled her head and rolled her to the side. She made a noise, but remained sleeping.

  Pulling on a t-shirt and sweatpants, I brushed my teeth quickly. I made it halfway across the room before I heard her sleepy voice.

  “Roman?”

  My heart rattled in my chest as the seriousness of the situation set in.

  She knows.

  I kept going as if I didn’t hear her.

  “Roman?” Her voice squeaked as she tried to increase her volume.

  I felt suffocated so I ignored her again, closing my bedroom door behind me and rushing down the stairs.

  I need to run. I’m done talking. I should’ve never started talking to begin with. I’d never talked about any of that with anyone. I never gave myself the chance to process any of it. I never gave myself the chance to be angry. I never gave myself the chance to grieve.

  As soon as I made it outside, I took big, gasping breaths of fresh air. The pressure that had been on my chest started to fade away as I walked away from my house.

  Why did I tell her? I silently cursed myself. That was a mistake. That was a big mistake. There are only two ways this will play out: she’ll either feel sorry for me or…

  I couldn’t bring myself to imagine the alternative. Bianca pitying me would ruin our friendship. Bianca blaming me for it all would ruin me.

  Putting the earbuds in my ears, I jogged slowly down the street. There was a little chill in the air and I wished I’d grabbed my jacket, but I couldn’t turn back. I needed to put as much distance as possible between me and my past.

  The sunlight peeking over the trees would usually catch my attention. Taking a mental picture of it so I could paint it later was part of my normal morning routine, but I didn’t feel like myself when I stopped to stretch after arriving in the park. I barely paid any attention to my surroundings.

  Hitting play on my phone, I let the beat take over my heartbeat. I let the music drown out the noise in my head and I took off running. Pumping my arms, I forced myself to go harder, faster. My feet pounded the pavement almost to the point of pain, but I kept going. I wanted to run from the past. I wanted to outrun the guilt. I kept pushing myself until everything was a blur and I could only feel the ache in my muscles and the burn in my lungs.

  The three mile path ended and I still felt disconnected so I started again. The second time around wasn’t as fast, but I made it. I was drained and possibly dehydrated, but I made it. My mind wasn’t focused on my past or the fact that I’d told Bianca about my past; all I was thinking about was how dry my mouth had become.

  Bending over with my hands on my knees, I swallowed large gulps of air. The heavy bass of the music pumped through my ears, but even louder than that was my breathing. I was making wheezing noises because the oxygen wouldn’t circulate within me fast enough. Sweat dripped from my forehead to the ground. I focused on each drop until I saw a pair of pink sneakers standing directly in front of me.

  “Here. Drink,” Hannah said, putting an icy bottle of water against my head.

  I am not in the mood for her games. I have too much shit on my mind, I thought, forcing my body upright. But first things first.

  “Thanks,” I grunted, taking the bottle from her outstretched hand.

  Even though I didn’t trust her, the need for water superseded anything else. Gulping it down, I let the cold liquid rejuvenate me. I finished the entire bottle.

  “Thank you,” I said again, my voice back to normal.

  “No problem, Roman,” Hannah chirped, throwing her hair over her shoulder. “I saw you running and thought you looked a little parched.”

  I gave her a look, shaking my head. Of course she saw me running. Her ass is always around. It has to be Hannah.

  “I’m glad I could help you on this fine Tuesday morning,” Hannah said flirtatiously. The whiny tone of her voice grated on my nerves. She took a step closer. “Now you owe me one.”

  I took a step backward. “Hannah,” I sighed in exasperation. I was tired—tired from the run and tired of her shit.

  She looked me up and down. Flashing me a smile, she crossed her arms
under her breasts. “What?” She giggled, sounding just like Tia.

  Feeling my emotions getting the best of me, I bit my tongue and just stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate. That seemed to encourage her as her smile grew.

  My frustration with her had reached its limit.

  I need her to admit that she was the one behind the emails. I need this to end. Right now.

  “Hannah, we need to talk about the—”

  Her phone rang loudly in the middle of my sentence. She looked at it for a long time before hitting the ignore button.

  “About what?” she asked, still smiling.

  In the back of my mind, I heard Malik’s voice reminding me that if asked directly, the guilty party will probably deny it.

  I have to catch her up. I have to make her admit something that only the person who wrote the emails would know.

  I took a deep breath before I demanded, “Stop.”

  “Stop what? Hold on for a second.” She held up one finger while she checked her phone again. With her smile growing wider, she quickly replied to a message. “Stop what?”

  “I know what you’re doing. And you need to stop.”

  Hannah’s eyebrows furrowed and she cocked her head to the side. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied with a smile.

  If it’s not Hannah, it’s Allie, I thought, staring at her. But she looks like she’s lying. And who the fuck wears that much make-up to go for a run?

  I opened my mouth to speak, but Hannah cut me off.

  “Roman, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but let’s say I did. Let’s say I was doing something that you found…objectionable. Why should I stop?”

  My heart rate sped up. That wasn’t an admission, but it definitely wasn’t a denial.

  “Because I just asked you to stop. Whatever you think is going to happen, is not going to happen, so stop.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “I don’t like to be told what to do.”

  Lowering my voice, I warned, “And I don’t like repeating myself.”

  Her face turned red.

  With the last ounce of energy I had left, I jogged away from her. By the time I made it to my house, my throat felt like sandpaper.

  “Shit,” I muttered under my breath when I saw Bianca’s car still parked behind mine.

  During my exchange and escape from Hannah, I had momentarily forgotten that Bianca had spent the night.

  This is why I don’t do sleepovers. I just want to come home and chill in my own fucking house, in my own fucking bed, alone, I grumbled in frustration as I pushed the front door open and entered the house noisily.

  The smell of bacon greeted me. My anger dissipated slightly as the aroma made my stomach growl.

  “Ro?” Bianca called out from the kitchen.

  Running my hands down my face, I sighed. “Yeah,” I answered shortly, walking toward the kitchen.

  “I took a shower and put this on. I hope you don’t mind. And I found an extra toothbrush. I’ll buy you another one. Promise.”

  I didn’t respond as I walked into the kitchen.

  As she bent over to pull biscuits out of the oven, Bianca’s ass in a pair of my shorts was the first thing I noticed. Ripping my eyes away from her, I made my way to the refrigerator to get two bottles of water. The first I downed immediately, finishing it in less than a minute. The second, I took a sip out of and recapped.

  “Thirsty?” Bianca joked as she brushed by me to get to the refrigerator.

  “Yeah.”

  She gave me a look. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  Putting the butter down on the counter, she pursed her lips. “Can you say something other than yeah?”

  “What would you like me to say?” I snapped, unintentionally.

  “What the hell is your problem?”

  Hannah. The emails. What I told you last night. You being here this morning, I answered her question silently. I felt the words threatening to come out. I didn’t think I would be able to control what I said. Ordinarily it wouldn’t matter, but I didn’t want to hurt Bianca. I just wanted her to leave.

  “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll see you later.” I picked up my bottle of water and walked out of the kitchen.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, I reached my room and shut the door behind me. Peeling the sweaty clothes off of me, I turned the shower on, making the water as hot as I could bear. When the bathroom had gotten steamy, I stepped into the water and just let it beat on my back. As the hot water relieved the pain in my muscles, it relieved the stress and anxiety I felt as well.

  I was such an asshole to B, I realized as I cleaned my body. She didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t want her here, but I never asked her to leave. I don’t do sleepovers. I don’t talk about my feelings. I don’t discuss my past. That’s not the way it works and I should’ve just let her walk out last night.

  The slow ache in my chest throbbed at the thought.

  All of this could’ve been avoided if I would’ve just ended the friendship. I shouldn’t have gone to her house. I shouldn’t have entertained emails with her. I shouldn’t have gotten close to her. I shouldn’t have let her in.

  The ache intensified as my heart started pounding in my chest.

  I have to end it.

  By the time I finished my shower, I’d come to the conclusion that I needed to apologize for the way I behaved when I came in from my run, but the friendship between Bianca and I had to end.

  Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked into my bedroom.

  Bianca yelped as she bounded into the room and then froze. I watched her eyes as they scanned every inch of me, before snapping back up to look me in the eyes. “Oh wow! I’m sorry. I need-needed my phone charger,” she stammered.

  When we made eye contact, I realized the whites of her eyes were pink.

  Was she crying?

  I moved toward her. “Were you crying?”

  She looked down for a second before squaring her shoulders. “No.”

  Crossing the room, I stood directly in front of her. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  We glared at each other for a full minute before I gave in and wrapped my arms around her. I deserve that, I thought, smiling into her hair.

  “Why do your eyes look pink?” I asked, not letting her go as she squirmed.

  “The smoke from the bacon grease got in my eyes. Now get off of me, you’re all wet!”

  I inhaled deeply. “I don’t smell any smoke.”

  “You’re soaking wet! Get off of me!” Bianca’s laugh sounded like the embodiment of happiness. I didn’t want to let her go if I could keep listening to it.

  “I’ll let you go on two conditions.”

  She stopped moving and looked up. The last remnants of a laugh were still in her voice. “What are the conditions?”

  “Well, the first is that you have to forgive me.” I looked her deep in her eyes and sincerely continued, “I’m sorry. I woke up in a bad mood and…I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

  The second is for you to walk away, I continued, trying to muster up the strength to say it. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Don’t email me. We need to end this friendship. Things have gone too far.

  For some reason, with her this close, I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

  “Come on now, Ro.” She brought her hands to my face and scratched my beard affectionately. “I forgive you. I don’t forgive you for this beard, but I forgive you for being an asshole. Do you not recall the two years I worked under you? You were more of an asshole then than you were downstairs. And we’re kind of both assholes, that’s why this works.”

  I laughed. “Obviously you’re an asshole, but not me. I was polite then and I’m still polite,” I argued good-naturedly, squeezing her closer to me.

  “You were cold then, and you’re still cold now. I was just somehow able to worm my way into your inner circle.”


  Which is why you have to go.

  “My beard is fine,” I said abruptly changing the subject, not ready to say what I needed to say. “I think the reason you play with it is because you like it.”

  “I play with it because it reminds me that you’re a harmless old man. It reminds me of my grandpa’s beard. My grandpa and all of his friends at the nursing home, smelling like mothballs, eating Jello.”

  I laughed loudly. “What the fuck, B? Did you just call me old?”

  “Oh no!” The faux sweetness in her voice made me chuckle harder. “Of course not, old man. But I was wondering if you knew what time shuffleboard was going to begin today.”

  “I get compliments on the beard. The beard works.”

  “You get compliments because you’re hot. Anything works on you,” she countered, still laughing.

  I paused for a second. “So you think I’m hot.”

  “Oh God.” Bianca rolled her eyes. The indignation in her voice made me laugh harder.

  “Fine, okay,” she relented. “Yes. You’re a decent looking old man.”

  “So you’re saying you think I’m a hot old man?” I had tears in my eyes from laughing so hard and I was barely holding it together long enough to get the question out.

  “I despise you.” Her cheeks were pink. “Yes, fine. You’re hot. With or without the beard. Happy now?”

  “Interesting.” I held her tighter and she started to squirm again.

  “Was that the second condition?”

  My heart began aching because it was beating so hard. After the hearty laugh I’d just experienced, the demand for her to leave wouldn’t formulate on my tongue.

  “Oh it was, wasn’t it?” Bianca teased. “That’s why you’re parading around here, showing off your muscles in just a towel, huh? Staring at me with those big green eyes that you probably paid for in California. You had them artificially create those golden flecks in them, didn’t you? That’s why you’re so intent on showcasing your hotness.”

  I saw the light in her eyes and I knew she was waiting for me to join in with the banter, but I couldn’t.

  I was too distracted by my conflicting emotions. I didn’t want to hurt her. I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out.