Broken (10 page)

“Don't be so serious. I wasn't going to tell. I'm not voting for the opposition. Guys do all types of things we don't know about. Namely, Frenchy,” she said.

I almost choked on my bottled water.

“I don't know why she doesn't want a man of her own. She just wants to do everybody else's man,” Sierra continued.

“That's kind of mean,” I said.

“I'm just keeping it real,” Sierra said.

I wondered if she would let my secrets spill when she kept it real about me.

“So, you thinking about going to find the first boy you ever loved. I believe that's a direct quote. Me, I've never been in love, unless you count the time in seventh grade when I had the sweetest first kiss with the hottest boy in eighth grade. I thought I was in love with him for the rest of the school year. He, on the other hand, was in love with four other girls that year. I was not even one of them! Whatever! You going to find loverboy or what?” Sierra asked.

“No.” I didn't know. I had a feeling I had to keep this under wraps a little bit. I disdained feeling like my life was an open book all the time. But if I couldn't be honest with my friends, who could I be honest with? Sierra was the closest thing I would ever have to a sister. But look at how she talked about Frenchy.

“No,” I continued.

“My father says that sometimes no means yes. He's a lawyer. Father says everything is negotiable.”

That was it. My mind would have to negotiate with my heart on what the best thing to do was.

I watched the landscapes go by. I tuned out the faces of the people sharing the train car with me. I was on the Metro-North, my first time. There was a lot of that going around lately. Life was to be lived. I wasn't a hard type of girl. Most of the girls I met at shoots had dated photographers or other models. Those men were in their 20s, 30s, and even 40s. The mere thought of dating a man that old creeped me out. It wasn't even legal.

If today were my last day, I wanted to make sure I had done everything I wanted to, or at least tried my best. I always wondered that about Mama. Had she done everything she wanted to? Had she told everyone she loved: I love you? I couldn't breathe when I thought of not telling Noel “I love you” once more.

I knew Mama did it that way. She was a “now” type of person. She would tell me, “Don't wait until tomorrow. Do it now if you can do it.” She was convinced I had a special light inside of me, kind of like a firefly. She never wanted me to rely on my beauty or to treat people differently because of the way they looked. Sometimes people treated me differently when they knew I would never hear the sound of my mother's voice or the sound of my husband's laugh. It was crazy that I was only 17 and worried about who would marry me. Part of me loved modeling because it was like libation. Being on set was intoxicating. I felt appreciated. Sometimes it felt like I could be me in front of the camera, and no one would know. Once a photographer for an editorial couture shoot for a French magazine told me he felt like he could see me for the first time when he looked at me through the lens.

A strange middle-aged man approached me. He had a friendly smile. Yet the New Yorker in me never trusted strangers. “Excuse me, miss. Is someone sitting here?” I pulled my cap down farther over my face and pushed my sunglasses tightly onto my face.

“No,” I said. I moved my legs so he could get through to sit in the seat right next to me.

I had taken the train because I knew if Noel were going to come surprise me—if he still loved me—that's the way he'd do it. He was so no-frills. All he cared about was what was on the inside.

I had never been so anxious in my entire life. Last night, I couldn't sleep a wink. All I could think about was how he would look and how I would look when I saw him. I had tried on seven different outfits. Then I thought about how we could be secret lovers. I would break up with Merek, of course. And how he could come to me sometimes and how I could visit him sometimes.

The rest was just a blur. I was on a mission. Next thing I knew, I was inside the library. I just roamed around. First the first floor, then the second—then I was headed to the stacks. The elevator doors opened. There was one long aisle down the middle of the floor. There were stacks with books on each side, left and right. The institutional green was not romantic at all. I didn't know how I'd look in the lighting of those overhead fluorescent lamps. Oh, well, I was determined not to let that get the best of me. I was so close. I carefully searched in between each and every stack.

I had stopped. Suddenly my head was throbbing. I put my hand to my head and it felt like I was on fire. I took a few deep breaths. I was about ten rows deep. There were like 30 more to search. I took a few steps and I felt weak. I grabbed on to the nearest bookshelf. I leaned against it for a moment. Why did I feel like I was going to pass out? Maybe if I had slept some the night before. I had switched bags in the morning. This was a why-me? moment. I mean, I always carried Advil in my bag because sometimes I needed it at a long shoot between the back-to-back lattes without any lunch or dinner and bright lights and posing. Advil was my savior.

No matter. I had come too far to get sick. He was here somewhere. I walked down the long aisle, throbbing head and all, one foot in front of the other, one stack at a time. I'm not sure how much farther I had walked. It was three, maybe four stacks when I lay my eyes upon him. Red hot tears ran down my cheek. Just my right eye was crying. I might've gasped. I didn't remember exactly. I started to tremble. I was definitely trembling.

He was taller, like six-foot-three. Big shoulders. I couldn't get those big broad shoulders out of mind because she had her hands all over them.

This was not how this was supposed to go. What a waste! Thinking, dreaming, it all felt like a foolish waste of time. The joke was on me. It was the cruelest joke I could've imagined. To punish myself further, I stood there as she turned her pretty face slowly. She leaned in and kissed my boyfriend!

I just kept thinking he was mine. I started walking to the elevator. Then my walk turned into a jog. I mashed the elevator button with all the pressure I thought would take
to break it. Who could I tell? When you're in love, who is there when your heart gets broken?

Who was going to take care of me? I needed my mother so much it just hurt more. Nothing was right and it didn't seem like it would ever be right again. I just didn't know why I had to get my heart broken. I could imagine telling Sierra how I felt and her looking at me and telling me my life was perfect. Or if someone like me got hurt there was no hope. Beauty meant nothing in love. I wanted a free pass for once. Life owed me something. I didn't have Mama. Everything was supposed to go my way. I needed him so desperately it didn't make sense. But was love supposed to make sense? How could something that felt so right be wrong? How could it be wrong?

I was embarrassed a little. Mostly because I had failed. I wiped the tears off my face with my sleeve. I smiled at the librarian on my way out.

I took a cab all the way home. The cab driver tried to give me smack about driving so far into the city and getting back. I just paid him whatever he asked for. I wasn't about to stomach anymore of Metro-North than I had to.

The first day of school was an awkward day, at best. The good thing was that you always knew what to wear—uniform.
Ahhh
, but the shoes. My affair with shoes was just beginning. My favorite black Mary Janes I got at a small boutique west of Sixth Avenue in the village.

There was something in the air. Everyone was different. Everyone was kind of preoccupied. Just one more year until our real lives began. College applications were right around the corner for some. I'd signed up for a record number of AP classes. I didn't know when I thought I would study for them. I almost always fell asleep on the jet. My schedule was starting to concern me. I had three shoots booked for this week alone, and two were in the Caribbean. Lisa said things were starting to really heat up and that this year would be red-hot. I had eight Fashion Week shows for next week. I was glad—the distraction would help me forget Connecticut.

Before I knew it, everyone in my fifth period class was packing their bags. The bell must have rung. I snapped up my Bio textbook and my clutch bag.

I felt out of place—like life was moving at light speed and I was just trotting along in slow motion. Yesterday, I had felt like I finally knew love. Just daydreaming about Noel felt like something inside me was finally free. It was like I was breathing again after almost drowning. In my mind, he would love me no matter who I was, or what I looked like, or if I burped, or made a bad joke. Just knowing this made me feel better. Until yesterday, that is.

Today, I was out of place and confused. I needed time to regroup. Once, I knew how it felt to love, how every breath felt like pure bliss. The mere thought of closing my heart to all of that triggered the onset of tears. I had thought, for sure, without a doubt in
my heart, that we were meant to be together forever. There would be no one that could love me like him, I just knew it. I couldn't prove it, though. If I thought I could, I would have said something when I saw him kissing that other girl. But I was just a coward.

How did one go about casting love out of their heart once they had known it? Merek. He always came to my mind when I felt like I was caught in a quandary about Noel. I did feel something like love for Merek. I often reminded myself of that so I wouldn't feel guilty for loving Noel differently. I chose. I loved Noel first, and he was ripped from my life. I didn't break up. I didn't send him away. It was so easy to love him. How could I stop?

I was on my way to lunch, caught in a haze. Walking like a zombie, staring into space, I edged closer and closer to the cafeteria entrance. I thought I was sorting things out. When I asked myself, I thought, he's happy with me. He reminded me of when—well, there were some things I was embarrassed to admit to myself. It was just that when Mama was home, I always felt wanted. She would wait for me to get home after school. She always had little snacks for me. Everything at home was connected. I was part of her. I got that feeling with Merek. He waited for me after class. He checked in to see how I was. He called me to make sure I reached home okay.

Today, Merek seemed more determined than ever to have me to himself every second. He had texted me “Want to steal you for a kiss already” by second period! The bright sunlight from the massive windows in the café brought me back to earth. I picked a quiet spot near the counter with a great view of the avenue. I had so quickly forgotten the order of things. One could think that the A-listers were the leaders, and everyone else
aspired. But I was beginning to see things differently. Once I sat down, three other A-list seniors and two A-list juniors sat at the tables closest to mine. A tall, neatly put together girl came to sit at my table. “Hey,” she said.

“Hi,” I said.

“I'm Courtney,” she said. Her slightly stained red lips matched her lightly smoky gray eye shadow. She had hair flat-ironed pin-straight and it was dark brown. She reminded me a little of Sierra.

“I'm Milan. I love your hair. Are you new?” I asked.

“I'm a junior. I just transferred here. I was going to public school in Beverly Hills,” she said.

Something told me to turn around. Sure enough, when I did I saw Cara and the twins making the approach. I liked my friends, but sometimes I wondered if it would be good to have friends unrelated to my friends.

“Listen, Courtney, my girls are coming. I have to save them seats.” I looked back at them, and then decided to lay it on the line. “To be honest, they are a little territorial. Me, not so much. I like new. My boyfriend is new.” I really couldn't believe I was saying this. “We should do coffee sometime, though. Hit me up: @MilanParkAve If you need to phone a friend, being new and all. I have you covered.”

“Cool,” she said, seeming a little disappointed.

I was trying to save her.

“Hi,” Cara threw herself in Courtney's direction. I shot Courtney a very concerned look. There was something about Cara that was all too overwhelming.

“Courtney,” I said.

“How do you guys know each other?” Cara asked.

“Why?” I asked.

“Oh,” Cara's face quickly turned to a grimace. “So you're leaving.” Cara turned her back to Courtney as if she were insignificant.

“Ummm, yeah. I guess.” Courtney looked disheartened. Her eyes shifted to the floor.

“No, why don't you stay, Courtney? We can all fit.” I smiled.

“Locker run, sugarplum! I will be back, though,” Cara said.

“Whatever!” Frenchy said.

I ignored Cara as she left. I turned my attention back to the kids in the cafeteria and, like clockwork, they stared right back at me—or maybe Courtney. My guess? They wanted to know who the newest girl was to infiltrate the group. Part of me was hoping to save her from this. But she did come over and introduce herself. Maybe this was what she wanted. It was too early to tell. Frenchy looked like she was wondering the same thing.

Oddly enough, Sierra hadn't said much yet. Sometimes she didn't like new people. Everything was always about hierarchy. A little part of me loved the hierarchy. It was what made lunch interesting. Though I can't remember when I stopped hating it and started loving it. One quick reflection of my face in the spotless window across from our table, where the sun shined from high in the sky, reminded me of why I had hated this all. That was all people saw in me, my reflection. Grossly petrified to admit it, for a moment I ventured deep inside my heart. My heart was still quietly aching. Inside, I felt fear. One of my professors once said that fear was detrimental to all that made us smile. I was a
little afraid of being ridiculed and … dethroned. Even though I had not asked to be put on top of the A-list, losing it all would make me … fragile. Just crazy.