Heavy Heart

“Well if the prodigal son hasn’t returned,” Olivia teased from underneath a pile of crumpled papers as Daria re-entered the room, suitcase in tow. Poppy and Litzy were seated on the ground, painting their nails in bright colors to bring a little cheer to the dreary weathered afternoon. Daria gave them a weak smile before going straight to her bed, grabbing the Japanese puzzle box on the way. The dead-end pattern was a security blanket to her at that point

“How was Paris? I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages,” Litzy hummed from the ground, just narrowly avoiding dripping neon pink nail polish on the wood floor.

Daria glanced between her friends, from Litzy, to Poppy – who looked interested in her friend’s endeavors – to Olivia, who hardly had any expression at all. A pang chimed in Daria’s heart; a pang of guilt, of remorse. She could hardly remember the last time she spent time with her friends, just the three of them. At the beginning of the semester they were all she had, Olivia in particular. Olivia had been there for her and vice versa. She was the closest thing Daria ever had to a best friend.

“I’m sorry,” Daria muttered quietly. “I never meant to be that girl who gets a boyfriend and disappears. I always hated those friends in high school.”

There was a silence between them, as though they didn’t quite know what to say. Certainly they weren’t expecting that response to such a lighthearted question. Olivia raised her eyes from her work, only to realize Daria was looking at her and gave her a weak smile. Daria knew in her heart that there were probably things going on in Olivia’s life that she was completely oblivious to, and that it was all her fault for not paying more attention.

“Do you think I’m getting myself into trouble?” she questioned in a demure tone after no one said anything. “With Harry?”

It was the one remnant of her Paris trip that had been weighing on her heart ever since the paparazzi mentioned it outside the Louvre. The rest of the magic had faded to the back, even the beautiful bakery on Champs-Elysees. All that remained was that question, ringing over and over in her head: was Harry trouble?

“Probably,” Poppy responded in her softest voice. “But aren’t all great loves trouble?”



For the next week, it was an active effort in Daria’s every day life to avoid Harry. With all the schoolwork she had, it wasn’t that hard to keep busy – she was hard at work regaining Dr. James’s trust. Avoiding Harry was a desperate, flailing attempt to sort out her emotions on the subject, but it only resulted in her missing him.

Finally she made plans to meet him in London after with her appointment with Dr. Gupta that Friday. When she finished her homework she began to fill out an application to transfer permanently to Birmingham, mainly as a nice idea to keep her content. As she sat in Dr. Gupta’s office, relaying the events of her Paris trip, her hands trembled at the thought of seeing him again.

“I just don’t know,” she murmured, her hands tight on the fabric of her jeans. “I don’t want to get myself into more trouble than I already have. I don’t think I could handle it.”

Dr. Gupta sat with his laptop propped up on his crossed leg, scrolling through the weblog she’d used to journal. He nodded thoughtfully as his fingers grazed the mouse pad, examining every picture, every poem, every fragment of mismatched text.

“I see your most recent post is this,” he hummed, turning the laptop to show a picture mountain, with a set of skyscrapers jutting out beneath it like roots. “When did you post this?”

“Monday,” she clarified, picking at her top knot.

“I see,” he replied, turning the computer back to examine the image further. “And does this have to do with what you’re feeling regarding Harry?”

She nodded squarely, her jaw set tight around her gritted teeth. “Yes, I would say so,” she stated with as much reserved emotion as she could muster. Dr. Gupta nodded for her to continue. Daria sighed, not quite knowing how to put it in words.

“With him, I thought I saw everything there was to see,” she answered, casting her gaze to the carpet. “I thought I had the mountain all to myself, all mapped out in my mind and free to explore, more or less. I thought I knew everything about Harry there was to know. And then I come to find out there’s this entire underground monopoly that I had no idea existed. He never even hinted at it.”

“Well,” Dr. Gupta started slowly. “Perhaps, to continue with this metaphor, this underground city doesn’t exist anymore. It did in the past, and there’s no erasing that fact – but maybe he demolished it when he met you. Maybe he left that all behind and was trying to leave it behind to start fresh with you.”

There was a prolonged silence between the two of them, Daria still refusing to look at him. She feared that if she made any eye contact at all she would crumble, dissolving onto the horrid carpet like salt in water.

“Of course, I’m playing devils advocate,” Dr. Gupta continued. “But I just don’t want you to make a mountain out of a molehill, so to speak. This may mean nothing, but then again it may mean everything. It’s not worth panicking over until you talk to Harry about it.”

She said nothing.

“You are going to talk to Harry about it, aren’t you?”

Again, nothing. But she did bravely turn her gaze to Dr. Gupta, looking at him with the most steeled eyes she could manage. The minute their eyes met, his expression softened, his interrogation retreating. They both knew this conversation wasn’t worth it – Daria was going to worry until the last minute possible. But Dr. Gupta’s words were comforting; the possibility that it all could be for nothing a very real possibility.

“How is everything else?” he asked in a pleasant effort to change the subject. “This journal is very impressive. I’m glad you’ve been keeping up with it.”

Daria shrugged half-heartedly, giving him the best response she could manage. “Thank you. It’s been really helping I think. I was bombarded by paparazzi all on my own and didn’t die of the panic, so that seems to be a good sign.”

“Good,” he affirmed, scribbling some notes onto his notepad. “Anything else?”

Daria bit her lip, not sure if she really wanted to say the words out loud for fear of making them real. But she decided if there were anyone she could trust, it would be Dr. Gupta. He wouldn’t judge her either way.

“I started filling out an application for transfer to Birmingham,” she admitted with a small, coy smile. Dr. Gupta’s face immediately lit up at her words, his dark eyes glimmering behind his glasses. “Like, permanently.”

“That’s fantastic, Daria,” he breathed, his pearlescent white teeth peeking out from his lips. “I’m so happy for you. I hope you can make the right decision, but I honestly think this is a step in the right direction.”

With a mix of emotions coursing through her veins, Daria left the office with her little slip of paper labeled with her next appointment. She plucked her phone from her purse as she walked down the hall to send Harry a quick message: she’d just arrived in London and that she was ready to meet whenever he was. And just as she hit send, she collided with another body, sending a flash of papers fluttering to the floor.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Daria exclaimed, immediately going to collect the papers. She avoided eye contact at all costs, not wanting to look into the eyes of the person for being so terribly embarrassed. The hands that helped collect the papers were thin, plated in stacks of gold rings that glinted as the fluorescent light caught them.

A voice came from outside them – deep, confused, and all too familiar.

“Daria?”

Harry.

Daria stood straight away, the collection of papers cradled in her arms. “What are you doing here?” he blurted. His green eyes were wild and wide, full lips slightly spread in surprise. It seemed like suddenly he realized the blunt nature of his words and softened, wrapping up Daria in an embrace and kissing her softly on the lips.

Daria darted her attention between him and the figure she collided with. Straightened up with papers a disheveled mess in her hands, she took Daria’s breath away with her beauty. Long blonde hair, fierce blue eyes, and the lengthiest legs Daria had ever seen: this girl was out of the ordinary.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she mumbled toward Harry. “Who is this?”

“Oh, this is Cara,” Harry responded, gesturing awkwardly between the two of them. “Cara, this is Daria.”

A little fleck of anxiety ignited in Daria, and she desperately tried to calm herself. “It’s nice to meet you, Cara,” she greeted in the nicest voice she could manage, slipping the papers from her arms into the arms of their owner.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Daria,” the girl spoke, and even her voice was sickeningly beautiful. “I’d seen you in the tabloids with my dear Harold and ever since I’ve been dying to see what you’re all about.”

She and Harry exchanged a laugh, Harry muttering something about her calling him Harold. Very much so on the outside of a joke, Daria wondered where this Cara had come from. And if she was so close with Harry, why had he never mentioned her before? Her mind ran wild at the hands of the paparazzi, thoughts completely out of her control. She felt as though she was going to be sick right there in the hallway. Any reassurance she’d gotten from Dr. Gupta quickly melted into a puddle at Cara’s high-heeled feet. Here she was, thinking that maybe the underground city had been destroyed; but there it was right in front of her.

“I uh, just texted you Harry,” Daria said with a stumble. “I was meeting with that uh, sociologist again and I just got done.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to need to hang onto him a bit longer dear,” Cara hummed patronizingly. Daria felt a sense of protectiveness come over her as she glanced to Harry, who stood with his hands in his pockets.

“We’re meeting with Burberry about doing a photoshoot together,” Harry explained further, looking a little smug. “Cara’s modeled for them before and is trying to get me a spot in the new campaign."

Of course she’s a model, Daria thought to herself in exasperation. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, that’s a fair question I guess,” Harry mumbled, pausing awkwardly before eking out the rest. “It’s not a done deal yet. If I got it, it was going to be a surprise.”

Daria stood silently, internally debating whether or not to believe him. He’d never given her any reason to not trust his word, but then again most liars didn’t. Perhaps the paparazzi were just looking out for her, were just trying to warn her before she got in too deep and got hurt. She thought of the application sitting on her desk, half filled out full of hopes and dreams – all of which directly tied to Harry. Everything could so easily fall apart; the snip of a string, everything could unravel.

“Well, you two have fun,” Daria said blankly, tugging her coat more tightly around her – the added pressure making her feel a bit more secure somehow. “I’m kinda not feeling very well, so I think I’m just going to head back to Birmingham.”

“Daria –"

“No, it’s fine Harry,” she interrupted. “Now you can just take your time with Cara. I’ll see you at your parents tomorrow.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and gave a weak wave to the pair before turning on her heel and going down the hall. Tears stung at her eyes as she stormed away, clutching at her waist as her stomach churned. The metallic taste of sick rose in her throat threateningly.

“Daria!” Harry called out to her. She considered turning around for a moment, to go back to him and let him explain. But before she could, Cara’s voice came in response.

“Oh, just leave her be, Haz,” Cara cooed. “She probably just wants to sleep it off in her own bed. C’mon, we have an appointment to get to.”

The walls felt like they were closing in around her, the pressure pounding in her brain stem. Her hands quaked uncontrollably around her body as she rushed out of the building. The air felt too thick for her lungs to process and she found herself struggling as she reached the fresh air, just barely making it out before she lost her lunch in the bushes.

Was it all in her head? Was there absolutely nothing between Harry and this beautiful blonde he had never even mentioned before? Or was Daria right about the way Cara laughed at their little joke just a little too loudly? How she was all too willing to let Daria leave them behind, just so she and Harry could be alone?

All she wanted was coffee. The only thing that could calm her down was the universality of her Starbucks order.

To hell with Dr. Gupta, Daria thought to herself. Caffeine was what she needed most after an anxiety attack, something to boost her back up. She no longer cared if it caused her that anxiety in the first place. She loved coffee. She needed it.

And as she walked to the storefront across the street, dialing Olivia to tell her what happened, Poppy’s words came back to her. Perhaps all great loves, from coffee to Harry styles, really were trouble.