Heartbreak

People say you never forget the first person who breaks your heart, and they’re right. I never forgot. They talk about heart-break and I know what they mean 1

I say that to people and most of them reply that I’m beautiful enough, I must’ve broken hundreds of hearts. I say that I hope not, that I hope it wasn’t like how I had my heart broken, and that that only happened once. 2

And then I tell them my story. 3

It starts out normally enough. I was a freshman in high school. I was thinking about trying out for dance team and maybe seeing if I could get into cheering squad. I tried not to be conceited about my appearance but received compliments on it more often than not. 4

I was taking Freshman Chemistry and one day I noticed a book that wasn’t mine in the basket under my desk. It was for Advanced Physics. I took it to the office on my way to the next class. 5

Just as I told the secretary what room number I’d found the book in, a guy rushed over to me.6

“A-Andrea… hi!” he stuttered “That’s my book, you found my book!” I hadn’t mentioned my name and, though I’d seen him in the hallways and cafeteria often enough, I knew I’d never spoken to him. I figured he was just a friend of friends of mine and shrugged it off. He was tall and gawky, dark-haired with dark-rimmed glasses. He blushed when he saw me and brushed my hands with his when I handed the book back to him. He told me his name was Brian. He was obviously stalling for excuses to talk to me, asking if I’d taken any papers out of the book, noticed any damage to it, etc. 7

I left the office and didn’t think anything of Brian until I got a call from him the next night saying that somehow some papers with my name on them had wound up in his book. His house was only a few blocks away from mine, so figured I’d be able to walk down there and back in time to go to the mall with my friends. 8

When I got to Brian’s house, he answered the door quickly and mentioned that he was the only one home. He invited me in and told me to sit down on the eggshell-white couch in his eggshell-white living room. He asked if I wanted anything to drink. I said no, but he told me it might take a second for him to find my papers. I told him a Pepsi would be fine and he brought me one. He sat down next to me and was almost trembling. I asked for my papers and he looked confused briefly before his eyes widened in understanding. He said he’d get them in a second. 9

Sitting that close to him, with his glasses off, he just looked gawkier, his skin pimply and hi features oversized and awkward. He attempted to make small-talk for a few seconds, about classes and movies, before I got frustrated and asked him for my papers again. He got up and disappeared into a hallway, saying he was looking for them. I finished my soda, nauseous from its odd, syrupy taste. The furniture in his house looked nice enough that I wondered why his mother would buy gross off-brand sodas. 10

A few minutes had passed and Brian hadn’t brought my papers out. I called into the hallway asking about it and was told to wait a few more seconds. Fed up, I started walking towards the door, yelling that I had somewhere to be and that he could just bring my papers to school tomorrow. I was turning the doorknob when I heard floorboards creaking noisily behind me and felt something make swift and painful contact with the side of my head. 11

When I opened my eyes, I saw a odd-looking shape hovering over me. It took me a few seconds to realize it was Brian’s face. 12

I asked him where I was and what was going on … or tried to, but I couldn’t move my lips or even feel my face. I knew I was sending out the command from my brain but I just couldn’t feel my body. 13

I looked ahead and could see I was laid out on a metal table and there were thick bands pinning me down at the wrists and ankles and I was naked. I looked back up at Brian.14

That was when he held up the bone saw. 15

It’s usually at this point in my story where my friend will realize this isn’t the normal “first date” story and won’t be able to speak anymore. I ask if they want me to continue and 9 out of 10 of them will stammer that they have to go and I won’t ever hear back from them. 16

There have been two or three people who remain stoic and hear the rest.17

So Brian held up a bone saw. I think that was more just to scare me. He put it down in a tray next to me and picked up a scalpel. He put his hands to my chest and started feeling around my breasts. They weren‘t really developed and he didn’t look like he was getting any enjoyment out of it; I just saw concentration on his face. I couldn’t feel or smell the latex of his gloves. Finally, he puts his fingers over my heart. Even though I figured everything else in my body was paralyzed, I could still feel my heart fluttering wildly. He did too and that seemed to be what he was looking for. He stopped and looked down into my eyes and said;18

“I guess you’re wondering what’s going on, right Andrea?”19

I wanted to tell him “No shit.” So he went on to say something like:20

“I know what you thought when you first saw me.” His voice got all high-pitched and nasal. “Fucking loser, nerd. I’d never be seen with someone like him.” It got normal again and he said “I’ve had my heart broken before. Girls just saw the glasses and thick science books I carried around and figured I wasn’t worth the time of day. After the first hundred rejections, I got the hint. And then there would be a girl every so often - a girl like you, actually willing to talk to me and even come over here - and she’d just snub me and break my heart all over again. And then I figured out a way to literally break hearts … to keep a person going so they can live with it until it kills them.”21

I wanted to ask him “What the fuck are you going to do to me?” and tell him “You’re fucking crazy.”22

One of his hands smoothed my hair back while the other went out of my view for a second and then came back with a blindfold. He lifted my head and fitted it around my eyes. His voice was quieter, but closer and sharper when he said “You don’t have to watch it, you’ve got the rest of your life to feel it.”23

I didn’t feel the pain, but I felt the impact: the vibration of the bone saw through my ribs, the tightening and release of the spreaders and retractors he put in my chest cavity, the clean slice of the scalpel though my arteries, and the pinch of the clamps on my heart valves. I faded from consciousness soon after that.24

When I woke up, I was in an ambulance, looking up at the faces of strangers through the distortion of an oxygen mask. I closed my eyes again and, when I opened them, I was sitting in a hospital bed. A short, balding doctor frowned at me, worried. He asked my name and how he could reach my parents, which I told him. Then he asked me if I could remember what had happened to me. I could, but then I told him that I couldn’t. He asked me who I had been with last, where we were, how well I knew this person, etc. I told him I couldn’t remember a thing. Then he asked me if I was aware of my heart condition. I said nothing.25

He turned on a nearby x-ray projector and told me I was looking at my chest cavity. There were clear bold lines forming a pattern down my ribcage. There was a negative space where half of my heart should’ve been. He said that otherwise, I was completely healthy but that it looked like half of my heart had been removed and then sutured, veins and arteries redirected to continue blood flow as normal. I told him it was from an accident I had when I was younger. When he pressed me for information, I told him I didn’t want to talk about it.26

My parents arrived within about a half an hour. My father was angry and my mother had been crying. They went to hug me until the doctor told them not to. He explained that an anonymous 911 call had been made, telling the paramedics to report to the street corner where I’d been found unconscious. It was several miles away from Brian’s house and I knew they’d never reach him in a canvas of the area. 27

I saw my parents’ fear, horror, anger, and relief but none of it registered. They were confused when the doctor mentioned my “accident,” which confused him. When they all turned to me for an explanation, I shrugged and said I didn’t want to talk about it. 28

My parents put me into therapy immediately. Within the year, I’d been to several different doctors. They all labeled me as difficult - severely traumatized, repressive, some even called me a sociopath because I didn’t show any emotion. Some asked if there was a person who made me this way and I didn’t say. They also asked if I was afraid of this person and I didn’t say. Some even got venomous and asked if I was protecting this person and if I wanted to stop the from hurting other people and I didn’t say. I thought the same answer to all of those questions and more: I don’t care. 29

I didn’t care about anything anymore. I went through the motions and finished school. My parents didn’t press me about college because they’d since distanced themselves from me. I didn’t blame them; they let me life under their roof and gave me money for the things I needed, but had learned not to expect anything from me because I was only present physically. Only once did my father ask me “Where has my bright, happy little girl gone?” I didn’t respond and I left the room when he started crying. 30

Friends contacted me and I talked to them. I said the same things I would have before, but in a flat toneless voice and soon I didn’t get anymore phone calls or invitations to parties. I moved out when I was 21; my parents hadn’t asked me, I had just wanted to be alone. I got an apartment and a job programming computers. I don’t like the job, but I assess it as being satisfactory since all I do is sit in an empty room for eight hours and type directions into a machine that’s as blank and unfeeling as myself. 31

My social life is nonexistent.32

I did see Brian in school for the rest of the time I was there. He wouldn’t look at me and always went the other way whenever he saw me. But most people did that. 33

The one abstract thought I can seem to have is a wonder about whether I’ll ever see Brian again. I just know that if I did, I’d gladly give him the other half of my heart.