Page 20 of Half-Hearted
She didn’t let me go. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
Which… was a flat-out lie, wasn’t it?
Because everything was definitely notgoing to be okay.
Nothingwas going to be fucking “okay.”
But, again, my mouth wouldn’t work, so I couldn’t tell her I didn’t appreciate being lied to like that. And my arms were broken, so I couldn’t push her off me. I couldn’t do anything except stand there, thinking about all the ways everything was definitely, for certain,notgoing to be okay.
Seventeen years.
Seventeenyearsof being desperately in love with Joel, waiting, wishing, hoping that one day hemightlove me back. Even just a little.
Every shooting star. Every fallen eyelash. Every birthday wish.
It’s pathetic when you think about it. That I was only now realizing that he and I were never going to happen. No matter how old I was, what I’d accomplished, how hard I tried.
Really, truly idiotic. What a waste of time.
I tried opening my mouth again and letting out at least some of the anger I felt blooming in my chest, but the only thing that came out was a ruptured, strangled sob.
“Sweetheart,” Jane soothed, holding me tighter. And that’s all it took. That one word in that one tone shattered me into a million pieces. I let out another sob. And then another. And another. Until my knees caved. Until I crumpled onto the floor, pathetically sobbing and shaking, and I couldn’t believe I’d beenso stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Seventeen years of my life.
Two hundred and two months.
Six thousand, one hundred and fifty-three days.
We’d calculated it.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Oh, Sweets.” Jane’s voice trembled as she lowered onto the floor. “It’s going to be okay.” She was crying now, too.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“It’s going to be okay. I promise.” She pulled me into another embrace. I was nothing but deadweight.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“It’s going to be okay,” she kept saying. Over and over again. Until I couldn’t tell the difference between her voice and the one inside my head anymore.
Until I lost track of time, of how many hours I cried into Jane’s shoulder, of how many times she wiped my tears and hushed my hiccupping sobs.
Until my eyes were swollen, my lungs fatigued, my throat sore, my muscles nonexistent.
Until I was completely and wholly numb again.
“You need to eat something,” Jane eventually murmured, continuing to run her fingers through my hair. The sun was starting to go down now. We were still on the floor. “Come on. I’ll make us a couple of sandwiches.”
I didn’t argue.
We ate.
I showered.
