Hearts, Strings, and Other Breakable Things

by Jacqueline Firkins

“I don’t know how you can be so calm about Henry,” Julia said. “If he gave me an ounce of the attention he’s given you, I’d be up to my eyeballs in love.”

  “Your eyeballs were floating with no attention at all,” Maria said.

  Julia swung her pillow at Maria’s head. Maria swatted it away as her eyebrows plunged together. Before the bickering could escalate, Edie flew over to the bed and wedged herself between her cousins.

  “I think we’ve all said enough about Henry.” She took Julia’s pillow and tucked it behind her. “Julia? How was your night with W.B.?”

  Julia managed a halfhearted shrug.

  “I had fun and he’s an awesome dancer, but”—she paused, smoothing a wrinkle in the duvet—“once we left the hotel, we didn’t really know what to do with each other.”

  “Because he couldn’t find your boobs?” Maria chided.

  “No! He didn’t . . . I just . . . I didn’t know he was gay.”

  Maria snorted with laughter.

  “Classic,” she said. “You finally ask a guy out and he’s even less likely to kiss you than I am.”

  “Shut up.” Julia quickly settled into full pout mode.

  Edie drew her into an embrace.

  “None of us knew he was gay,” she said.

  “I feel so stupid.” Julia tipped her head onto Edie’s shoulder. “He wasn’t hiding it. I just never thought to ask. Then this song came on when we were driving away from the hotel. I said I liked it. He said it was his ex-boyfriend’s band. I got really quiet. He said he thought I knew. I told him I didn’t know how I was supposed to know.”

  Maria snorted again.

  “Guess they didn’t teach you how to deal with that one in A Better You.”

  Edie elbowed her. Maria grimaced and rubbed the point of impact. Julia was too lost in disappointment to notice either of them. She straightened the hem of her camisole where it dipped over the waistband of her eyelet shorts, lining things up just so.

  “Maybe I’ll have a real date to next year’s prom.” She let out a plaintive sigh. “Someone who’ll kiss me like Henry kissed you. God, I mean, that moment when he looked in your eyes and—”

  “Seriously.” Maria held up a hand. “Enough about the kissing.”

  “So, how was your night with Rupert?” Edie asked.

  “Fine,” Maria said. It was the only word she spoke on the subject.

  * * *

  For the rest of the day, Edie holed herself up in her room, resolutely avoiding her phone while manically editing her scholarship application. After eight weeks of debating who she wanted to be, she concluded that she was too full of contradictions to complete the task as assigned. She couldn’t choose one role model any more than she could narrow the definition of love to one meaning as she applied it to Shonda, Sebastian, Henry, her mom, her cousins, or even her aunt and uncle. Life was far too complicated to reduce to singularities. Attempting to box, bind, and define everything only led to frustration and confusion. Edie was better off embracing the muddle.

  At 11:56 p.m., four minutes before the deadline, Edie submitted all thirty-seven of her essays along with a short cover letter.

  To Whom It May Concern:

  Please accept the attached submissions for the Imogene Stanwyck Memorial Scholarship Competition. While each entry may be judged according to its own merit, I ask that the committee also consider my materials as a whole. The only person I’d really like to become is myself, but I can only do so with the support and influence of a vast network of other people. To reduce them all to a single name and 1,500 words would be like boiling me down to my nose. As someone who’s never liked her nose, this strikes me as an ill-fated proposition.

  I’d like to thank the committee in advance for considering my application(s) and for your patience in perusing the extensive enclosed materials. Best wishes for an efficient adjudication process.

  Yours respectfully,

  Edie Price

  She had no idea what the committee would do with her application. They might read only one essay. They might read all thirty-seven. They might consider her cover letter impressive for its use of adjudication or impertinent for its reference to her nose. Either way, she’d tried her best. She’d been honest about herself. It was all she could do, really. The rest was out of her control.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  * * *

  Edie spent the next few weeks studying for finals, working at the tutoring center, and staunchly ignoring a growing text chain from Sebastian. She also reassured Julia her Romeo was out there somewhere and she did her best to blow off Maria’s continued post-prom snarkiness. She passed any remaining time with Henry, who turned out to be as patient, persistent, and dedicated as he’d once claimed, gradually shifting from First Guy She Kissed to First Official Boyfriend. He took her to Cold Shoulder where they sampled flavors until Edie picked a new favorite. They attended the open mic night in Brockton, where they chatted with the organizer about getting Edie on the roster later that summer. They went midnight skinny-dipping at Fulton Pond, where Edie openly ogled Henry’s extended benefits package and they almost used the condom he always had handy.

  Henry was nothing like the guys Edie’d crushed on all through high school, the sort she’d always imagined dating. He wasn’t bookish or artsy. He didn’t have deep deliberations about the meaning of life. Instead he made her smile. He made her laugh. He distracted her from cyclical thoughts that weighed too heavily on her mind. She loved every minute they spent together, whether they were driving down the highway with the windows open and the music blasting, or sitting quietly in a park, draped around each other while he fed her contraband bread and cheese. With Henry, Edie learned the simple pleasure of holding someone’s hand for more than a fleeting moment. She felt the effervescent thrill of unchecked anticipation. She shed the loneliness that’d haunted her since she boarded a bus in Ithaca back in early April.

  When he dropped her off one night, she mentioned wishing she could tell Shonda all about him. Naturally, Henry asked why she couldn’t. Edie evaded his question with generalities about a past miscommunication. Henry didn’t need to know what happened with James. She didn’t think he’d judge her, not after all the stories he’d told about his own indiscretions. He just wasn’t the sort of guy she shared that stuff with. Henry was for laughter and joy, for music and moonlit kisses, for resounding yeses. Heartache and shame didn’t belong in their particular us-ness.

  As Henry got out of his car and met Edie on the curb, she took his hand and raised it to her lips.

  “You know, you’re pretty great,” she said.

  “I tried to tell you that weeks ago.” He smiled at her, smoldering away with his bottomless eyes, his full lips, and the barely raised eyebrows that always made him look like he was awaiting the answer to a question he didn’t need to bother asking.

  “Your claim wasn’t very convincing when you were bringing Julia to tears and mapping stars on Maria.”

  “Fair enough,” he said with markedly little apology. Then he slipped his hands around Edie’s waist and backed her against the side of his car. “Bet I can find a few constellations hiding in your skin.” He pulled aside her collar, or rather, his collar since she was wearing his shirt.

  “Guess I should give this back at some point,” she said.

  “Keep it,” he murmured against her neck. “It looks better on you.”

  “Maybe you’re not as vain as I thought.”

  “Yes, I am. But I’m not blind.” He began kissing her freckles, one by one, gradually turning a few simple stars into a cluster of blazing meteors. Since Edie’d long since charted the one hundred and seventeen freckles between her hairline and her neckline, she suspected Henry’s astronomical exploration could go on well past her curfew.

  “I should head in,” she said, making no move toward the house.

  “I could come with you.” He paused his exploration and cocked an eyebrow.

  She raised both eyebrows, unsure how
anyone did that single-eyebrow thing.

  “My cousins . . .”

  “Don’t need to know.” He popped open a few of her shirt buttons, ran a finger under her bra strap, and eased it off her shoulder, following its path with his lips.

  Her heart strained against her rib cage, cramped in its too-close quarters, desperate for space.

  “My aunt and uncle . . .”

  “I’ll be very, very quiet.” He pressed against her, slipping a knee between hers and drawing her closer with a hand around her hip.

  Her body began to tingle. Her resolve wavered. The tip of his tongue tickled her upper lip. His nose brushed hers. His dark eyes brimmed with suggestion. Feeling somewhat . . . suggestible, Edie leaned forward and kissed him. As Henry kissed her back, his hands wrapped her ribs. His thumbs skimmed under the edges of her bra. His hips shifted against hers. She gripped his hair and drew him closer, impatient for more, but when his hand slid down the front of her jeans, she pulled away.

  “I just want to be close to you.” He caressed her cheek, her neck, her collarbone.

  “Another time.” She glanced over her shoulder at Maria’s lit windows. “And another place.”

  Henry protested, declaring her resistance to his advances cruel and unusual punishment. Edie caved temporarily, drawn in by his kisses while he somehow managed to unbutton her entire shirt. Before he could unfasten anything else, she rallied the willpower to send him on his way.

  As Edie trailed Henry’s retreating car, she wondered why she was so resistant to going all the way with him. She wanted to do it. She thought about it all the time. She liked him. He liked her. He knew what he was doing, which was a plus, since she didn’t. He’d make her feel safe and cared for. He’d make her feel a lot of other things, too. She was ready to step past her last almost, to find out what all the fuss was about, to know if sex was even remotely as spectacular as everything that led up to it. Yet every time they got close, she found a reason to stop. What was she so afraid of? Where was the catch?

  Edie cycled through these questions until she finally realized the problem: trust.

  Shonda had been so happy the week after she had sex with James for the first time, but he hadn’t been faithful. Edie’s mom had fallen madly in love, but her husband left her with a baby and a napkin. Henry had openly professed to being a collector of hearts. The only thing he’d ever committed to was his car. He didn’t even have academic or career goals. He just did what he wanted when he wanted with no forward planning, no looking back, no strings attached. While Edie didn’t need a lifetime commitment in order to have sex, she wanted some reassurance that Henry would still be there afterward without instantly moving on to the next girl.

  Still wrestling with that thought, Edie headed upstairs and peeked through Bert and Norah’s open door. They were sitting upright in bed as if they’d sprouted there like cornstalks. Bert was reading an Audubon book and Norah was watching a food documentary while moisturizing her hands in a special pair of gloves.

  “I’m back,” Edie announced.

  “How is that lovely young man?” Norah asked, all aflutter. “Why don’t you bring him around for dinner one night?”

  “Mm,” Edie mumbled. She could just picture it: her cousins subtly competing for Henry’s attention while he pushed his boundaries under the tablecloth and Norah wondered why no one was devouring her cucumber carrot kebobs.

  “Maybe this week while Rupert’s back in town,” Bert suggested. “We could try out that new restaurant by the mall.”

  “The all-you-can-eat buffet?” Norah huffed with indignation. “Really, Bert! After all I do to take care of you, are you trying to make me a widow?”

  Edie left them to argue as she padded down the hallway toward her bedroom. She paused when she heard softly muffled sobbing behind Maria’s door. She knocked but Maria didn’t answer. Taking a cue from her cousins, Edie went ahead and peeked in.

  Maria was lying facedown on her bed, still dressed from her date with Rupert, her feet dangling off the bedside, her fists gripping her pillow. Edie crept in. She sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed Maria’s back, unsure what else to do. She’d never seen Maria cry before, not once, even when they were kids and she fell off her bike or lost her favorite stuffed monkey.

  After several minutes, Maria finally rolled over, revealing a face streaked with mascara-laden tears.

  “What happened?” Edie asked.

  Maria wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

  “He broke up with me! Can you believe it? He broke up with me.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Edie handed her a nearby box of tissues. “Did he say why?”

  “Because he’s an asshole, that’s why.” Rather than address the question at hand, Maria ransacked the tissue box while providing an extensive catalogue of Rupert’s shortcomings. He was a total jerk, always showing up at the wrong times, lingering when he wasn’t wanted, and embarrassing her in front of her friends. He was selfish. He was boring. He was a terrible dresser and an even worse dancer. He had the nerve to claim their breakup wasn’t all his fault. He accused her of things that were totally untrue, or at least that he had no proof of, which was basically the same thing. He didn’t appreciate the sacrifices she made for him. He wasn’t even attractive. He didn’t understand anything.

  Edie listened patiently while wondering what, exactly, Rupert had accused Maria of, and what kind of proof she was referring to.

  “I don’t understand,” Edie said. “At prom you guys were all excited you’d get to announce your engagement next month. Why did he suddenly change his mind?”

  “How should I know?” Maria’s eyes shot to Edie’s for a fraction of a second before she buried her face in a tissue.

  “He gave you no reason at all? That doesn’t seem like Rupert. Why would—?”

  “Okay, so he saw some texts on my phone.” Maria hastily wiped her nose and tossed the tissue to the floor where it joined several others. “A bit of harmless flirting.” She flung aside another barely used tissue. “Nothing a normal person would care about, but he blew it up into this big deal, lecturing me about trust and commitment, acting like he was so much smarter than me just because he goes to Harvard.” A third tissue made its way to the floor. “I don’t need to take that crap from him.”

  A knot of suspicion formed in Edie’s gut, reinforcing her fears about Henry’s trustworthiness.

  “Maria?” she asked warily. “Who were the texts to?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Rupert had no right reading them.”

  “But the texts . . .” Edie pressed.

  “Oh my god.” Maria leapt off the bed and marched over to her full-length mirror. “I’m so over this inquisition. It’s, like, practically medieval. You’re supposed to be making me feel better, not attacking me. God!”

  Edie spun toward her from the bed.

  “I just want to know if—”

  “I’m not sleeping with your boyfriend, Edie.”

  Edie reeled, stunned by Maria’s leap of logic.

  “I didn’t say you were.”

  “You might as well have. Ever since you sucked his face off at prom you’ve been all paranoid about him.” Maria snatched up the little bag on her dresser and began fixing her makeup. “I still can’t believe I gave him to you.”

  Despite a jolt of annoyance and a prickling curiosity, Edie clamped her jaw and held her rebuttal inside. Maria had been there when Edie was at her lowest, even though it meant taking sides against a friend. Now it was Edie’s turn to love without question.

  While Maria dabbed away the last of her tears, Edie gathered the used tissues, tossing them away as though heartbreak could simply be shed and discarded rather than lingering long after a wound was inflicted.

  “I should go tell Dear Mama the wedding’s off. She was planning to mail the engagement party invites tomorrow morning.” Maria repinned a curl over her ear, looking poised, polished, and perfect. Only her red eyes betrayed her pain. “She’s going
to be crushed. We’d finally agreed on a color scheme for the wedding.” She crossed the room but she paused in the doorway. She stood there as if paralyzed, gripping the door frame. Then she turned around and extended a hand toward Edie. “Will you come with me?” Her voice was unusually timid, no longer tough as nails but small and afraid.

  Without hesitation, Edie slipped her hand into Maria’s.

  “Of course,” she said. “I’m right here beside you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  * * *

  At the end of the third week in June, Edie, Maria, and Claire graduated from Saint Penitent’s. After the ceremony, the girls posed for awkward group photos in the auditorium while the Vernons and the Crawfords looked on proudly, unaware of the resentments and jealousies that simmered just below the girls’ strained smiles. After a few wistful sighs, Julia seemed content to chat with her friends and ignore boys entirely. Maria put on a brave face whenever someone asked about Rupert, blithely claiming she’d let him go when the distance became tedious. Henry was perceptive enough to restrain his physical affection so he wouldn’t escalate tensions. Claire doled out warm hugs to every girl who graduated.

  Every girl but one.

  As the auditorium began to clear, Edie slipped off her graduation robe and returned it to a beaky woman with a tight gray bun and a pinched smile. The woman checked off her name and turned her attention to the next girl in line. Edie was about to rejoin her family when she realized the next girl in line was Claire. The auditorium suddenly seemed smaller, brighter, and about twenty degrees warmer. Edie’s instinct to bolt immediately kicked in but she forced herself to stay put. High school was over. If she expected college to provide her a fresh start, she had to own up to her actions, even if that meant facing down her darkest demons.

  “Claire?” she asked tentatively. “Can I say something?”

  Claire tensed but she didn’t acknowledge Edie’s question. Instead, she beamed at the woman collecting the robes, graciously complimenting her sweater set and remarking on Phoebe’s inspiring valedictory speech. In her own good time, she turned toward Edie. Claire was far too well mannered to launch into a heated argument in public, but her eyes were stone cold as she folded her arms and waited.