Leave Me Empty and Left to Wonder

There are many ways you can go about getting your heart broken.

Here, let me start a list;

1. Fall in love with someone who sees you as ‘just a friend’.

2. Get so addicted to one night stands and sex with random strangers that after every empty bed you realize once again that he/she was not ‘the one’.

3. Fall in love with someone and never do anything about it so they never know and find happiness elsewhere, not even considering how you might possibly feel.

4. Fall in love with someone that society would frown upon you having a relationship with, and letting the peer pressure crush what you might or might not have had.

5. Fall half way in love with a famous rockstar and/or actor, picturing them to be absolutely perfect for you in every way, giving high expectations for the rest of your life and never finding someone that perfect.

6. Cheat on the one you love just for the thrill, only to be caught and left alone in the end.

7. Fall pregnant at the wrong time, either sending your love running or if they’re halfway decent enough to stay knowing that things will never be the same and regretting your involvement in the first place.

8. Physically taking a revolver/knife/hammer and nails etc. to your chest...

The list really could go on for miles.

However, I don’t think anyone’s heart could break as hurtfully as mine did.

Ever heard the saying ‘getting up for the letdown’?

‘Don’t hold your breath’?

‘Don’t get your hopes up’?

Well, no one was there to tell me that when I really needed to be told. Maybe the one glass of wine had rid those awfully annoying voices from my mind just when I needed them. That’s always the way, isn’t it?

9.

It started off rather lonely. Another night after a tiresome shift at my crappy supermarket job that I’d had since I was fifteen. Working for minimum wage, plenty of mockery and ridicule, after a busy day at college… who could ask for any more? I went to a small diner that I’d taken to having diner at sometimes. The old woman who owned the place – lovely and charming, but aging all the same – sometimes got a little careless and often let me have alcohol. It was okay; I looked twenty-one. And even if I didn’t, I usually sat in the corner with the busted light, so no one would think that there was any underage drinking going on. Not like I ever had more than a glass or so anyway.

Unfortunately, on this particular night the corner light had been fixed and another small family was sitting there, so I had to opt for one of the tables at the very edge of the room. It was right next to a large window, and I was pretty sure that people could see me from outside if they looked hard enough. But I didn’t have any other choice.

“You done with that, Brooke?” a thirty-something blonde waitress asked me, gesturing to my empty bowl that had been filled with chicken and mushroom ravioli only half an hour before. She really was too pretty and nice to be working at a small diner like this. One day she’ll be a movie star, and get out of this town. But the clock is ticking…

“Yeah, thanks Joy,” I gave her a small smile and she whisked my bowl away, leaving my glass of red wine in my hand.

I don’t even know why I was drinking it. I hate red wine. I guess it was just for something to do, and some reason to stay here rather than going back to an empty dorm room. I had my own room, something I had conflicting thoughts about. Sometimes I was relieved to have an escape, somewhere to go by myself, but more often than not it was just incredibly lonely.

As usual, I sat quietly and dwelled among my thoughts. I looked around the cosy room, painted a warm yellow with abstract beach scenes stretched on canvases adorning the walls. The rectangular wooden tables were all situated a good distance away from each other, but not far enough for any to seem lonely. The pretty wooden chairs had designs carved out of the back, and could almost be described as intricate. The floorboards underneath everyone’s feet were dull and smooth; I’m sure they must have been originally polished, but that time had long passed. The counter was in the middle of the room, with a narrow corridor that I knew led to the kitchens.

I had once been feeling really sick, so Joy (the waitress) and Dylan (one of the cooks) had brought me back there as my knees shook, just before I threw up into the toilet. But that rather unpleasant memory serves no purpose to the story I’m trying to retell.

After analyzing my surroundings, the surroundings that I had analyzed so many times before, I thought about my friends. They’d moved away for college, gone different places. I was the opposite. My family had moved, yet I had stayed here in Chicago. I missed my best friends. They were the ones who pulled my out of these miserable, pensive moods. They were the ones who had always been there for me. But now they were miles away. I missed my family. I missed having people that were programmed to love me, no matter how much of a bitch I was. I missed feeling whole.

And that’s precisely when he walked in.

By he, of course, I mean the boy that’s had my heart since high school junior year. We vaguely knew each other. Well, he vaguely knew me. He’d wave if we passed each other in the corridors, or we’d have a quick meaningless chat in the lunch line, but that was the extent of our relationship. I knew him better, though. He had always been into music, and when he started a band with his enemy-turn-friend they caught the attention of a record label and got signed. They had one album out; an album that I’d listen to whenever I needed to feel better. He was beautiful. Smooth, tanned skin, long dark hair, innocent-but-cheeky big brown eyes, and the cutest smile that has ever existed in the world.

I’m not usually like this. I don’t get all drooling over good-looking guys. Study had always been more important than guys, in my books. But not for him. Ever since I first laid eyes on Michael Stephen Carden, he’s been different. I didn’t even know it was possible to feel this way about someone. Dare I say it; it might be love.

“Brooke?”

I looked up, and had to will my heart to keep beating when I was met with those eyes that I secretly fantasized about. I forced a small smile as my nerves were electrocuted.

“Hey Michael.”

“How many times do I have to tell you,” he laughed, sending my heart into a fast-tempo dance routine in my chest/dancefloor. “Call me Mike.”

“Right,” I blushed a little; something else only he could make me do. “Sorry.”

He smiled at me a bit, and my eyes flickered to his before darting back to my wine glass.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked smoothly. “I’m just waiting on a coffee.”

The silent music that my heart was dancing to must have sped up, because my heart sure did.

“Sure,” I said, as he pulled out the spindly chair and sat down.

I tried to keep my eyes on my glass, face probably about as red as the wine, trying to keep my ridiculous blushing under control. I could feel his eyes on me, but only looked up when he spoke half a minutes later.

“Underage drinking, Miss Harris?”

He raised an eyebrow at me; smirk fixed on his lips… god, those lips…

“A glass of this barely counts,” I replied, downing the rest of the vile liquid. “Did Mrs. Turner try and offer you some too?”

“Yep,” he nodded, perfect smile still in place. “But I did the responsible thing and declined. What if someone sees you?”

I chuckled a little, possibly with a little bitterness.

“I come here almost every night, and no one apart from the staff has ever paid any attention to me.”

“Except for me,” he added.

I looked up at his face, expecting to see the small smirk or humorous glint in his eyes. Instead, however, I was met with an entirely sober, serious look.

“Except for you,” I repeated.

I hadn’t even noticed that we’d been inclining towards each other during our conversation until Joy came over to bring Mike his coffee and we both had to lean backwards off our arms and into our seats. Mike thanked her, and Joy sent me a suggestive look over her shoulder as she walked away that I pretended not to notice.

Mike didn’t leave when he got his coffee, like I wasdreading expecting him to. He stayed, and bought one for me too. We talked. We talked a lot. He got me to open up to him, and I found myself actually… smiling. I hadn’t truly smiled, as in without effort, since my best friends had been here. But I was smiling with Mike. He’d flirt casually, as was his nature, and I couldn’t stop myself from flirting just a tiny bit back.

If only he knew how much I liked him…

“Sorry,” I was startled out of my thoughts and our conversation when Mrs. Turner, the old owner, appeared at our table. “Brooke, honey, we’re closing up now. It’s ten o’clock.”

I looked around, and was surprised to find that Mike and I were the only ones left in the shop. Had time really gone that fast? I’d been here since six thirty…

“Oh, okay,” I said, standing up. Mike mimicked my actions. “Thanks Mrs. Turner.”

“No problem dear,” she said, her kind smile etching even more lines into her crinkled face.

Mike and I walked out of the diner in silence, sipping the remnants of our coffees. Our feet fell in synch as we walked down the sidewalk, just enjoying each other’s presence. I was probably enjoying his a little too much…

“Do you want a lift home?” he asked me, just as we were about to reach what I presumed was his car.

I bit my lip before shaking my head with an inaudible sigh.

“No, it’s okay. I can walk to campus from here.”

He chuckled slightly as he turned the keys in the door of his black car, and my heart pounded painfully against my ribcage as his hand unexpectedly found the small of my back and guided me over to stand beside the car.

“I asked you if you wanted to, not if you needed to.”

Another blush rose to the apples of my cheeks and I nodded, painting a boyish grin on his mouth. I crossed to the other side of the car and slipped quietly into the passenger seat, buckling up my seatbelt before he even made it into the car.

We drove in silence with our windows down, the night breeze mingling with his scent and drifting over to muddle my brain. We stopped outside my dorm building and I sighed softly.

“Thanks for the ride, Carden,” I smirked, knowing how he hated it when I called him by his last name.

He laughed.

“Bitch. Just for that, I think I’m going to have to walk you up to your room. That way I can egg on any crazy psycho murderer or serial rapist.”

“Oh that’s nice,” I said sarcastically. “And it’s an all-girls dorm, you fool.”

“Exactly.”

I tried to restrain my laughter. I failed.

We made our way upstairs, both teasingand flirting more strongly. I tried not to let my sadness show when we came to my door. We smiled at each other, neither of us saying anything. This was the most time we had spent with each other since we were paired up for one lame science assignment in junior year. And, taking this maybe a little out of context, I never ever thought I’d have Mike Carden drop me off and walk me up to my room.

“Thanks for keeping an eye out for crazy psycho murderers and serial rapists,” I said quietly.

He was so close to me… close enough to kiss…

“Any time,” he breathed back.

We must have been looking into each other’s eyes for at least fifteen seconds before I coughed a little, unintentionally. And just like that, the space between us returned as he took a step away and cleared his throat.

“Uh, I guess I’ll see you round, Brooke?”

“For sure,” I said, my voice still stupidly light and breathy.

He turned around and started walking away. I had absolutely no control over what I did next. If I was thinking straight at all then I wouldn’t have done it. I swear to god, I’m bloody insane.

I quickly caught up to him, turned him around, and pushed my lips onto his. Before I could pull away, his hands were at the back of my head and pulling me closer into the kiss, sliding his tongue along my bottom lip and deepening our embrace. After a minute of making out in the hallway, he lifted me up onto his hips where my legs wrapped around him and walked us back to my room, kissing becoming fiercer by the second. Soon enough, clothes were shed, lips were swollen, bruises marked necks, and hair was sticking up at the most unnatural of angles.

Now I was somewhere that I definitely never thought I would be; lying naked on my bed, with a naked Mike Carden hovering over me. I doubted my sanity for a second, and wondered if this was really happening. All of a sudden, his kisses ceased and I groaned unhappily at the absence of his lips on my skin. I looked up at him, and we were both breathing heavily, almost panting.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked me.

I restrained from rolling my eyes. Was it really necessary to ruin this moment of bliss?

“If I wasn’t sure, then I wouldn’t have taken your clothes off.”

One of his charming smiles flashed.

“Even in bed, you’re still the same old Brooke,” he smiled quietly. “But I’m going to make damn sure. Are you certain?”

“God, Mike,” I groaned, trailing my hand up his chest and to his neck. “I’m so sure. I want this so fucking bad.”

In an instant, his smirk was back and we were back where we were, only taking it even further.

I repeat; I never thought I’d be here.

***

I can’t remember the last time I ever slept so well. I guess I was just so damn exhausted. But also, for once I didn’t have anything to worry about. I was exactly where I wanted to be. I had the boy of my dreams in my bed beside me, snoring softly and adding to the gentle morning soundscape of twittering birds.

I was lying there, staring out the window with a smile on my face for only about five minutes before I felt a soft kiss on the back of my neck. I involuntarily let out a sigh of satisfaction.

“Morning,” I said, my voice high from happiness.

“Morning,” he breathed in my ear.

I turned around and curled into him, giggling inside at his bed/sex hair and sleepy smile. He brought his arm up around my shoulders, almost protectively.

“You look cute when you wake up,” I mumbled without thinking, a tinge of pink rising to my cheeks when I realized what I’d said.

He chuckled.

“You look cute when you’re embarrassed.”

I hit him lightly on the shoulder, my smile not fading in the slightest. I looked at him; he had his eyes closed, a small grin on his face and his breathing was even, but he hadn’t fallen back asleep. A silence settled over us, but after shifting a little to get more comfortable I felt the need to break it, looking away and resting the side of my face on his bare chest.

“Last night was amazing,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

I have come to the conclusion that this sentence must have been my mistake, because it was exactly here where everything changed.

Mike stiffened under me; his whole body went rigid. I looked up at his face again to see that his eyes were open, and his smile had disappeared. Now he had a small frown, worry etched into his skin. He sat up fast, and I slid away from him.

“Brooke,” he stated simply, not looking at me but looking straight ahead.

“Mike?” I asked worriedly. “Mike? What’s wrong?”

His eyes flicked towards me, and widened even more. He jumped out of the bed and grabbed his boxers from the floor, struggling to get them on before he turned to look at me. I must have looked a sight right then; just woken up, probably terrible hair, a slight limp, and the most confused expression to ever grace a human face.

“I’m so sorry, Brooke,” he said sincerely, looking me in the eye.

My heart instantly plummeted a million miles into the earth. Whatever followed this could certainly not be good.

“Last night was amazing, but I never meant for it to happen. I lost control, because that’s what you do to me. But it wasn’t meant to happen. I… this can’t… fuck.”

He sighed in frustration, one hand cupped at the back of his neck as he looked down. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, stinging to show their desperation to be set free.

“It’s me, Brooke, you didn’t do anything. I just… I’m sorry.”

He found the rest of his clothes and put them on as hastily as he could. I could feel warmth trickling down my cheeks, and knew that the traitorous tears had broken out. He kissed me quickly as he passed me, and I followed him as he headed for the door.

“I love you,” I blurted out. He spun around, looking at me in despair, but I pressed on. “I’ve loved you ever since junior year, and last night was the best thing that’s happened to me for as long as I can remember.”

“Why are you telling me this, Brooke?” he choked, tears glistening in his own eyes.

“Because I’m trying to make you stay,” I cried. “I’m trying to make you say that this wasn’t a mistake. Or I’m trying to at least get some sort of explanation.”

His tears had escaped now too, and he ran over to me to kiss me passionately one last time. I kissed him back as hard as I could, hopelessly hoping that my lips might make him stay.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against my lips, making me shiver for more than one reason.

And just like that, he was gone. My heart fell from clinging to the threads of my sleeve and smashed against the gutter.

He didn’t want me. I was just a mistake. A mistake who didn’t even deserve an explanation.

And I’d been foolish enough to believe, if only for a little while, that he might have felt something for me too.

***

10. Write sad stories about heartbreak, and die inside realizing that your fabrication of emotional tragedy is so much more likely than a fairytale happy ending.