Heavy Heart

When Dr. James assigned the ten-page paper on existential modern philosophers, Daria assumed her choice of Nietzsche would be an absolute breeze. She knew his work backwards and forwards, even more so after the slaving over the textbook she did every night. But what originally seemed to be an easy task turned out to be a balancing act for Daria, one she succeed at very well.

Already she was working on developing her journal, which she based on an online website that she could access at all times, for whenever she was feeling panicky. She was spending a lot of her time learning about meditation and managing her anxiety without medication, spending hours at a time with Olivia and Poppy trying to master the art of breathing. With that in addition to her paper, she hadn’t seen Harry in a week.

The worst part of it all was that at weeks end, the boys were headed to Paris for a benefit concert. Not only had Daria not seen Harry in more days than she could count on one hand, she was about to not see him for even longer. While he would only be gone for a weekend, it still seemed like so long. Her stress was so much greater when Harry wasn’t around.

In the end, she’d lost track of the days, finally finishing her paper with just a little time to spare. It felt like it had been days since sunlight graced her face, or that she had a good meal consisting more of pretzels and coffee. Staying away from coffee was proving to be more difficult than she expected.

“When is Harry coming over? I know you’ll want to spend some time with him before the lot goes to Paris.”

Just as she finished asking, there was a knock at the door. Daria sent her a smile from her bed before hopping off and going to open it. She knew right away who it was; he called earlier and asked if he could come visit for the first time in days.

“Hey,” Harry greeted, his curly hair swooping just slightly above his eye. Finally giving up on trying to be discreet in his presence on campus, he was dressed in a black peacoat and straight-legged jeans, no sunglasses to be found on his eyes. He caught her up in his arms and gave her a quick, passionate kiss, clearly starving for her attention after not seeing her for so long. Behind them, Olivia cleared her throat, alerting Harry of her presence.

“Oh,” he said with an embarrassed chuckle, peering into the room. “Hey Liv.”

“Hi Hazza,” she replied in a singsong voice, her lips curling into an amused smile. “Where you going to take my girl, eh?”

“Somewhere that isn’t this room or the godforsaken library, I hope,” Daria muttered, grabbing her coat and purse from her desk. Harry nodded with a debonair smile, holding the door open for her.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he quipped. “I promise I won’t have her back too late, Madam.” He winked at Olivia, causing her to shake her head in a strange combination of knowing and disbelief.

As the pair was heading out the door, Olivia called after them. “Daria, wait! Don’t you have class soon?”

Daria glanced over her shoulder to find Olivia looking at her concernedly, her canvas laid on the floor in front of her. There was a swirling of purple and blue paint in the center, with a scribbling of vines in the corner. “I already texted Litzy asking if she’d sign me in, I think it’ll be okay.”

Olivia shrugged, humming a brief, “Suit yourself” into the paint-fumed air of their living space. Daria shut the door gingerly behind her, not wanting to disturb her artistic concentration. A pang of guilt pricked at her chest as she and Harry walked down the hall, gaining whispers from those who were around. She knew that Olivia was worried about her skipping class again, as she had been about once a week for the last several weeks since the first time she skipped to hang out with Harry when the news first came out. It was addicting, the feeling of being able to shun off responsibilities with little to no consequences. As long as Litzy was around to sign her in, she was free.

“I missed you,” Harry murmured huskily when they reached the car. He drove a little bit until they were in an empty parking lot outside of the university and parked, immediately pulling her into a deep kiss.

“Wow,” Daria whispered back through giggles and a mess of lips. “I missed you too.”

Harry gave her his very best cheeky grin, the green sparks in his eyes illuminating mischievously. He ran his hands through her hair, which lay loosely around her shoulders, the way he liked.

“God, I love your hair like this,” he tutted, taking a tendril and wrapping it around his finger before pressing his lips against hers hungrily once more. She kissed him back, allowing him to suck her lower lip up between his teeth and nibble on it gently, causing chills to go all up and down her spine. They kissed for a while, rather lamely in the front seat of his car, his hands all over her, exploring every inch of her.

She felt the heat rising to her cheeks, suddenly self-conscious in the soft grip of his lips, The things she’d done with Harry were certainly more than she’d dome with boys before, when she stayed with him at his house in London or on the rare nights he spent in her room while Olivia was away. But through the months of their dating, she managed to maintain her virginity, which she knew was hard for Harry – the way he looked at her with ravenous eyes almost to much for her to bear most days.

“Harry,” she muttered in protest, nudging him apart from her with her forehead. His hands rested lightly on her hips, just below the hemline of her shirt. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to – with each passing day how much she wanted to amplified – it was that she was embarrassed. What nineteen-year-old girl was still a virgin these days? She was nervous to take that next step with Harry, who was surely more experienced than her, and make a fool of herself.

“You’re killing me, Daria,” he moaned softly, pulling back from her and leaning back in his seat.

“We can do a bit better than here,” she replied teasingly, leaning forward and pressing another soft, teasing kiss to the skin just below his ear. He groaned, exuding a light laugh.

“I suppose you’re right,” he agreed as he pushed the hair away from her face. “I maybe have a better idea.” Daria raised her eyebrow at him questioningly.

“There’s a match on in Liverpool tonight.”

A quiver of excitement shot through Daria’s stomach at the thought of finally going to her beloved Anfield. Harry’s eyes were glimmering naughtily, the corners of his mauve lips turned just slightly upward. But she quickly remembered that while that was all a well and good idea, they had no tickets, Liverpool was hours away, and most importantly, Harry was a Manchester United fan. “You wouldn’t be caught dead at a match!” she cried indignantly.

“I think you underestimate the power of my sunglasses,” he hummed suavely, pushing the car into gear. Daria shook her head in disbelief. Only Harry.

“And besides,” he continued as they pulled onto the highway. “You deserve a reward for all your hard work. I never would have been able to concentrate long enough to make it through ten pages.”

Suddenly, Daria’s phone began to ring in her purse, the polyphonic sounds ringing through the car. She dug through the various items floating at the top until she found it, Litzy’s caller ID picture appearing across the screen.

“Hey,” Daria greeted. “What’s up?”

“Finally, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for ages,” Litzy breathed in her posh accent. “Don’t you know what day it is?”

“What do you mean?” Daria asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“First of all, as are you,” Litzy chided, earning an embarrassed cringe from Daria. “Second of all, I just ducked out of class to call you since you haven’t been responding to my texts. Papers are due today. How did you manage to forget that?”

Daria sat straight up in her seat, the blood rushing from her face all the way to her toes. “What?!”
“The papers on existential philosophers,” Litzy clarified, her voice hushed and hurried. “Dr. James just collected them. If you come now you can maybe still make it.”

Hanging up immediately, without any sort of goodbye, Daria turned to Harry. “I need to get back to school,” she cried. “Please, turn around!”

“What’s going on?” Harry questioned, bewilderment tingeing his words. “Who was that? Is everything okay?”

“I’ll explain on the way,” Daria insisted, pressing her face into her hands in an attempt to try to control her anxiety. “Just please take me back!”

Everything seemed to be intensified as she explained to Harry that she’d been so wrapped up in writing the paper, she managed to lose track of what day it was at all. Shaking with stunned embarrassment, she tripped over her words trying to explain. Harry was very good about taking her back, though he seemed confused on the whole situation. When she finally ran out of words, Daria stared anxiously out the window, praying that they would get there in time to catch Dr. James.

When she burst into the lecture hall it was nearly empty, the only figure left was Dr. James at his podium, packing up his briefcase. “Dr. James!” she called out to him. “Oh, thank god I’ve caught you!”

“Miss Holmes,” he greeted in return, a cool gaze cast from behind his small, wire glasses. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m so sorry I missed class today sir,” she apologized fervently, her hands shaking uncontrollably at her sides. She clasped them together in front of her in an attempt to control them, but it appeared to be no use. “I, um, I overslept. But I wanted to come in and tell you that I can email you my paper and bring a hard copy to your office. I, uh, managed to forget it in my hustle to get over here.”

Dr. James cast his gaze down to a paper at his side before returning his eyes to Daria, the glassy brown state of them impermeable. “The attendance sheet indicates that you were in class. How is that possible if you weren’t with us today?”

Daria found herself at a loss for words, every bit of her vocabulary flowing from her brain like it had been flushed away. Dr. James raised his eyebrows questioningly, prodding at her like he expected an answer promptly. When Daria opened her mouth to explain, no words came out to defend herself. Instead, she found tears welling in their beds, threatening to spill over.

“I’m afraid I pay a bit more attention than you think I do,” Dr. James continued when he received no answer. “I know you’ve been skipping classes Daria, and having your friend Elizabeth sign in for you.”

Daria blanched.

“You see, your signature changes significantly on days when you’re here as opposed to days when you’re not.”

He held up the sign in sheet, pointing to her name and then pointing to Litzy’s. The signature next to each looked startlingly similar, both in a loopy hand with flourishes in all the right places, completely unlike Daria’s straight and to the point autograph.

“I’m sorry, I can’t accept your paper,” Dr. James stated, not much of a hint of apology in his voice at all. “Not with the way you’ve been treating my class. I’m afraid you don’t deserve full credit, even if you were here to hand it in on time.”

All the air went from Daria’s lungs, the tears in her eyes threating to spill over, her heart sinking down into the depths of her gut. She’d never gotten a bad grade on a paper, much less no grade at all. School had always come first, school had always been what she was good at, always what she championed.

“Dr. James,” she protested quietly. “My schoolwork is all I have.”

“Miss Holmes, why must you insist on playing me as a fool?” Dr. James questioned, his lips pulled together in a tight line. His demeanor was cool, and not necessarily angry. It was more of a chilled annoyance, disappointment perhaps. Daria shook her head pleadingly, not knowing what he meant.

“I’ve seen the tabloids,” he clarified as he began to tuck the rest of his belongings in his briefcase. “I know that you’ve been dating a certain Harry Styles. I heard the whisperings of your classmates, and I decided to check up on you. Most of the time, we can probably both agree, the private lives of my students are none of my business or concern. But when I see that you are spotted with your celebrity boyfriend during my class, be it in London or Cheshire or whatever part of the country you decide to go to? That’s a bit of a slap in the face. As is you coming here and expecting me to accept your paper after your blatant disregard of my class.”

Daria was silent. She’d never been put to shame like that before, especially not by a professor. And never in her life had she felt like she deserved it the way she did now.

“You can become a slave to your own happiness, Daria,” Dr. James reminded her, snapping the clips on his briefcase shut.

“I’ve read Dostoyevsky,” Daria mumbled in response, her voice quivering under the weight of heavy tears. “I know. Free will is a crippling burden.”

“I just want to be sure that you are your own master, not your adventure for happiness,” Dr. James asserted. “Become what you are, as Nietzsche teaches you. Follow you own inner law. And for god’s sake, don’t give up everything for a boy. You can’t put everything into a person and expect there to still be a balance. You’re smarter than that.”

Daria nodded, again not knowing what to say. She hadn’t realized that her absence had been so sorely noted, especially to the extent that Dr. James put it. In her head, she cursed herself for ever skipping class in the first place, for ever thinking she would get away with putting her schoolwork behind Harry. Dr. James was right – while a relationship could come and go; her schoolwork was what would get her into the graduate school, and then the position of her future. And for the past few weeks, she’d been throwing that away.

“And please, don’t return to my class until you feel you can dedicate the time to it,” Dr. James concluded, buttoning up his jacket and proceeding to pass her from behind the podium. “I hope you can make the effort soon. Have a good rest of your day, Miss Holmes.”

When she returned to the car, her wavering tears turned to full blown sobs. She sat next to Harry and wept uncontrollably as he tried to get her to tell him what happened. “What’s going on, love? What happened?”

“He didn’t accept my paper,” she finally whispered, glancing up at him through watery eyes. “He knew that I’d been skipping recently and didn’t accept it.” They were silent for a while, Harry at an obvious loss for words. He sat and rubbed her shoulder with his large hands, pressing a kiss to the spot where his touch had been.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to go home,” Daria mumbled, wiping her tears away. “You can come with. I just don’t feel like I deserve a trip to Liverpool today. I don’t feel I deserve much of anything.”

This was the moment that Daria hit her lowest point in Birmingham. And it was only just the beginning.