Page 62 of Heartbeat

“I mean it,” he said. “You didn’t. So, stop.”

We didn’t speak for a few minutes. Silence had never been a problem for us. I could honestly say I couldn’t remember a single occasion in which silence had become weird or awkward in any way, ever. Even during the height of an episode, in the months immediately following Liam’s death, I’d go days without the utterance of a single word, and Jonas never once made it into something other than what it was.

It was actually one of the reasons I found seeing him again so difficult. Why I’d delayed it as much as I could. Over the past two years, I’d steadily declined, something that, for the better part, had been visible to most of those who knew me, and yet, nobody had ever pushed me away or judged me—quite the contrary.

It didn’t make sense. Why would someone with a proper support system still find the need to push people away and disappear? Not to mention continue thinking about being in close proximity to a razor blade? There wasn’t just one reason, nor was there an easy way to explain it—trust me, I’ve tried. But nobody truly knew what happened at the lake that night, at least not the whole truth about what went on. And in the months and years that followed, I also got to watch as I steadily declined; no matter how hard I tried to get better or just avoid getting worse, I also got to watch. That meant I saw what it did to the people in my life—and especially Jonas, as I could never truly hide anything from him— I saw it.

For months, Jonas, my very best friend, stood by me as I continued to get worse. And as much as I knew he never once resented me for it or did anything he didn’t wish to do, I knew what I did to him. What I—being the way that I was (am?)—did to him. And although the silence had never been awkward, to me it had started to become unbearable because I saw my friend, my best friend, slowly lose hope. There is nothing, nothing worse than that.

Jonas would never admit it, of course. He’d have kept trying to help, precisely what he was trying to do now, for as long as it was necessary. But, as I had told him to be true, I wasn’t a good person. And despite knowing that I wasn’t really back yet, I couldn’t push him away again. I didn’t have it in me.

He was a better friend than me.

Chapter Fourteen

Forget Your Mind

My parents were absolutely thrilled when Jonas and I walked into the kitchen. I’d never seen a longer hug than the one my mom gave him. Even Noah was excited.

“I don’t care what you say, young man. You’re staying for dinner,” she told him as we left the kitchen to head up to my room.

“Of course, Mrs. Hart,” he said, walking backward.

“I’ll make you your favorite.” She was absolutely beaming.

“You’re the best, Mrs. Hart,” he said and followed me upstairs.

I locked the door, put Hunky Dory on shuffle, and we smoked pot lying across the bed.

“What are you going to wear?” Jonas eventually asked me.

“What?”

“To your date with the jock.”

“Don’t call him the jock, please.” I handed him the blunt.

He chuckled.

“Jeans and a T-shirt, I guess.”

“You can’t wear that on a date.”

“Why not?”

“It isn’t really sexy now, is it?”

“Who says I want to look sexy?”

“That humongous, marbled mark on your neck?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying,” he said, inhaling. “You’ll answer the door, and there he’ll be, hair all combed up and greasy, nice shirt, cologne, and shit, and you’ll be wearing the same pair of jeans you wear every day and that beat up Twin Peaks T-shirt you think looks like new.”

“Um, fuck off? And it does look like new.” I took the blunt from him.

“Does not.” He took it back before I could inhale.

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