How To Get Your Heart Broken (2 page)

Boys Suck, Girls Suck

The beach house showed only the first signs
of needing restoration, but it looked like a shack because of the way our
tasteless neighbor’s mini-mansion towered over it. Nevertheless, it was
rendered beautiful by its modesty. Its light blue color contributed to its
peculiarity, as all of the houses behind us and that sole house to the right of
us were of more traditional styles and colors. This and the fact that the house
only stood a few yards from the shore helped further this feeling I always had,
that we were the sole inhabitants of an island whose main and only attraction
was a small blue house characterized by its wind chimes and beaded curtains.
Inside, an almost tangible tension was evident between the personal and the
fashionable.

Ash’s mom had begun to renovate the place
with intentions of selling it after Ashton’s grandfather, the original owner,
had died. It was probably his anticipation of this that made him leave the
beach house to Ash in his will, though she was barely a teenager when he died.
She was unable to retrieve pieces her mother had already sold, but she had kept
everything that remained of her grandfather’s in perfect order with almost
obsessive precision.

A three-legged table he’d made in his youth
sufficed as our coffee table, though it hardly resembled one. It had always
been a site for sore eyes and its old age had only made it more fragile, so
that Rachel and I knew to avoid the middle of the living room where it lay like
the world’s most pitiful centerpiece. One small gust of air in its direction
probably would have caused the whole thing to come crashing down like a house
of cards.

There were many other things of his in the
house no one was allowed to touch, or even look at, but many of them were
placed into the second living room‒ which none of us dared enter. It was
filled with what I tried kindly to classify as “vintage” furniture; dusty
chairs, hideous flower print curtains, a T.V. with antennae, and an out of tune
harpsichord. All this along with so many little trinkets from his travels with
Ash’s grandmother that it was impractical to call the place a “living” room; it
more so resembled the sort of museum where you had to be mindful of every step
you took because at every corner stood something very old and very fragile.

Yet what puzzled me the most about this
room was the endless collection of seashells. I was sure the world’s largest
collection of seashells rested right under the guest bedroom I occupied and I
wondered why, when you could just go outside and press your toes against as
many seashells as your heart desired they remained of such high value that they
were collected and dusted and dated with the day they had been found like each
one was a nugget of gold.

Nevertheless, there was an undeniable charm
linked to the house, and though I preferred the modern décor: the sliding
double doors on opposite sides of the kitchen, the built in seat by the window
that Ash’s mother had added, and the out of place chandelier and glass doors in
the living room, even I had to admit these were not the things that brought an
air of comfort and unexplainable nostalgia to all who entered. The place seemed
like it had been built for quiet reflection and soul searching. Like Ashton and
I, it was in for a rude awakening, because that was nothing near what Rachel
had in mind.
 

“No. No. Absolutely
not!”
 

I blinked at Ash’s
words. A part of me agreed with them. But I was just as confused as our little
blue shack, so another part of me was secretly rolling my eyes at her.
 
That part of me was intrigued by Rachel’s
idea. Revenge sounded nice, justified. And I didn’t care if this guy hadn’t
done anything to me; I wanted the whole male species to suffer. I was convinced
that none of them were innocent.

Rachel looked to me
for support, trying to ignore Ash’s protests.

Ashton turned to me,
realizing none of her protests made a difference to Rachel, “Eli, I know you’re
angry, and I get that, I really do! But that guy didn't do anything to you!”

I focused on my
internal debate, trying to avoid their pressure-filled gazes. I knew it was up
to me because this whole trip had turned into a let’s-mend-Eli’s-broken-heart
project. I could almost feel Ash judging me; I knew she would be disappointed.
I didn’t want to disappoint her. But, she
would
forgive me eventually.
And I really wanted to hurt someone as much as
the-X
had hurt me, as much as everyone had ever hurt me. And sure,
out loud that sounded terrible, but who could deny they had thoughts like these
every once in a while? I was thinking of how great it would be, to just live
for a little while with no rules, to put my conscious aside and act the way I
wanted to, like
he
had. To treat this
stranger the way all the men in my life had treated me…

I stared back and
forth between the two of them. They were like projections of the miniature
angel and devil I imagined on my shoulders. I knew the decision I wanted to
make, I knew how wrong that decision was. I could feel myself going to the dark
side. I was slowly inching towards Rachel; noticing Ashton already looking
defeated.

"I'm sorry
Ash," I said, sounding more certain than I actually was.

She shook her head,
sending me a worried look.

Rachel beamed. I’d
heard her say it before, “The best way to get over someone is to get revenge.”
Clearly, she wasn’t sympathetic to collateral damage.

I used to think that
mantra of hers was irrational, aside from the unhealthy sentiment; it also
suggested that there was always some injustice involved in a breakup. But
there’s a first time for everything, and I was realizing that Rachel was
finally right about something.

May the Odds Be Ever in Your Favor

"How did you come
up with this whole thing?" I asked because she’d had it all figured out
like this plan was her life’s work and I was simply an excuse to execute it
now. This certainly wasn’t the first time Rachel had come up with some wacky scheme
that we all knew would end in disaster. But she had certainly outdone herself.

She glanced over her
shoulder to send us a wink, tossing her full, dark hair as she turned back to
where the key to our plan had been standing.

"I can't believe
I have to be a part of this too," Ash sighed.

I almost felt sorry
for her. She agreed to these crazy shenanigans for me, but I didn't think she
ever anticipated that she would be playing such an active role.
 

"Oh, lighten up,
Little Miss Perfect. You act like we’re plotting to kill someone," Rachel
turned back to us, rolling her thickly lined hazel eyes in Ash’s direction.

“It doesn’t even make sense. How are you getting back at Ryan by hurting
some stranger?” Ash added.

“
The-X
is ancient history. This
is about Eli. This is about her getting on with her life and all of us having
fun.”

"You have a
really screwed up idea of fun," Ash grumbled quietly.

“Don’t you ever get
tired of being annoying? Has anyone rewarded you for walking around with that
moral compass so far up your-”

"Rachel!" I
shook my head at her, sounding too much like a distraught mother trying to make
her kids get along. She stopped, but not before glaring at me.

Rachel and Ash had an
interesting relationship. They fought constantly. Or rather, Rachel yelled until
Ash was on the brink of tears. Deep down inside, I was convinced they loved
each other. I was just waiting for the day it would show.

"Focus," I
said to Rachel. "Let's go over this again."

She immediately perked
up, "It's simple; we each try to make him fall in love with us. Then, we
dump him!"

Damn, even I had to
admit this was screwed up. Rachel’s insensitivity somehow made me more aware of
it. She seemed to sense my hesitation.

“Can you think of one
guy in your life you don’t think would deserve something like this? A good guy
is just a myth. You know that better than anyone. Guys do this kind of stuff
all the time, and they always get away with it, like something about their
anatomy entitles them to being assholes. I just want the same opportunity. And
we’re never gonna get it, so we have to take it. ”

‘Well… she does have a point
,’ I thought to myself.
 

“Okay,” I nodded.
 
"We need rules."

Rachel nodded in
agreement, "He’s the only one falling in love."

I couldn’t resist the
urge to roll my eyes. He certainly wasn’t my type, on top of the fact that this
whole thing was a symbol of my severing ties with the male population. If there
was a pill I could take to become a lesbian, I would have overdosed on it
already.

"And you
cannot
, under any circumstances tell him
the plan," she added.
 

"Ash, do you have
anything to add?" I asked as I turned to her.

She sat with her arms
folded and her head down, her face hidden behind her chestnut brown hair. She
shook her head. I gave Rachel a look to keep her from offending Ash further.
There was a moment of silence.

"Oohh, I have
one," I exclaimed. I knew Rachel wouldn't be too happy about this one,
"
No
sex." I saw Ash
reemerge from behind her hair; she sent me a look that seemed to voice her
shock that this even had to be said.

"What?"
Rachel exclaimed, "How am I supposed to make a guy fall in love with me if
I can't have sex with him?"

She shot me a glare
when Ash giggled.

"Let's take a
vote," Ash said, her hand already high in the air. I raised my hand too,
smiling at her.

"You've gotta be
kidding!" Rachel exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes at
her, “I have standards you know.”

They both stared back
at me, and I was sure their minds were flashing back to my recount of
the incident
with
he-who-shall-not-be-named.

Ash squealed as I
chucked a pillow at her head.

“You’re supposed to be
on my side! And as for you Rachel, there's no way I'm gonna risk getting some
disease from that idiot. And maybe that’s not a concern for you since you
already have every STD imaginable,” I laughed at the lack of a reaction my
insult inspired from her, “But if you had sex with him, it wouldn't be fair to
Ashton and me."

She glared at me. I
had complete faith that she could make him fall in love anyway, not that I
would tell her that now. Every guy who came into contact with her left a trail
of saliva for the next one to add to. She was always so sure of herself; every
room she walked into was filled with an almost tangible air of confidence and
vanilla body spray. She was tall, with almond shaped eyes, full lips and
perfectly arched eyebrows. She looked more like the girls on the cover of
fashion magazines than a real person.

Rachel could get any
guy she dreamed of by batting an eye and extending her sultry smile.
Unfortunately, she found early on charm wasn’t necessary when you were offering
sex. She seemed to get a thrill from the attention, and though Rachel was no
victim it seemed she’d forgotten that there was a lot more she had to offer.
Still, with her competitive nature, I knew she wouldn't go down without a
fight, even if the whole point of this was to cheer
me
up.

"Remind me why
I'm doing this again?" Ash whispered to me.

"Because you're
trying to help Eli, and even though you're a pain in the ass you want to help
Eli," Rachel replied for me.

"But-"
Ashton protested.

"Look, there's no
guarantee he's gonna fall in love with her. But if all three of us try knowing
how completely different we all are, he's bound to fall for one of us. We are
her insurance plan," Rachel finished, her hands extending out in a
theatrical manner.

"Why would she
need two understudies?" Ash argued.

"To ensure that
the insurance is insured!"
 

I bit my lip, trying
not to laugh at Rachel’s impatient glare and her even more absurd explanation.

“So I’m like the
backup plan to the backup plan. Shouldn’t I be offended?”

"Look Ashton,
stop asking questions. Elle, stop looking at me like that, I'm doing this for
you. You're both welcome!" Rachel got up, indicating the end of our
meeting by running up the stairs back to her room, the coffee colored skin of
legs lengthened by her comically tiny jean shorts.

Ash looked at where
she had been standing, her mouth gaping open. "I'm
welcome
?" she repeated to me as if I could make sense of
anything Rachel ever said.
 

 
"Well,” I smiled, “Let the games
began."