Heartbeats

“Condoms, really?” I force a laugh when they come pouring out of my locker. Kids around me snicker and I keep my cool. Even though I want to explode with rage, that’s exactly what they want me to do.  

The football team roars with laughter as I kneel and start picking them up and placing them the only place I can think of - my backpack.  

There are a few kids who feel bad for me and kneel on the floor beside my locker to help me. They’re smart enough to realize that the condoms are probably not the best joke to play on a guy like me. Six months ago, I would have stood up to whoever did this, told them to keep their condoms, proudly waved around a sonogram photo in the air and told them that sometimes there’s more to life than protection.  

I’m sure I still would’ve felt like shit, judged for my choices and the things that happened to me. But all I can bring myself to do now is kneel down and clean this up, ignoring the growing pit in my stomach.  

As we’re cleaning up, a substitute teacher walks by and pauses, “what’s going on here?” She demands, but timidly, the way subs do because they are guests in the school, not all-knowing like the teachers and the students.  

I laugh, “Just a practical joke.” She rarely comes to Woodlands Academy, so she doesn’t know my story or the rumors, most of which are unfortunately true. She leans down to help us and questions me a bit more firmly, “You sure that’s it?”  

Damn. I didn’t think I was that much of an open book. But maybe, no matter the circumstances, anyone would feel embarrassed by a locker that spews out condoms when they’re just trying to grab their copy of Catcher in the Rye before study hall.

“It’s no big deal.” I say, thanking her and the kids who helped once all the condoms are in my backpack.  

I pause at my locker for a moment until the sub is gone, and then before shoving it in my locker, I wave the backpack now full of condoms in the air.  “Thanks guys”, I grin, staring at the football team. They die laughing as I walk away, while I die silently, summoning all my willpower to walk into class.  

**********************************************************

“Condoms in my locker? Really, Josh?”

I grab him by the shirt collar and shove him against the wall of the boy’s locker room.  

“It wasn’t me.” He squeaks out.  

“I know it was.” I bark back at him.  

And the truth is, I need it to have been him. From him, I deserve it. But from anyone else in this school, it’s just kicking a dog when he’s down. And I’m sick of being that damn dog. 

“I wish it had been.” He whispers. “But even I wouldn’t sink that low.” His voice cracks and I know he’s telling the truth.  

I feel a flash of disappointment though. I treat Josh like crap, so I deserve it from him. But from the rest of the school, it’s bullying that is at a level kids could be expelled for if the administration wanted to set an example. 

Ironic, right? A bully who gets bullied, but thinks he’s above bullying because he only bullies one person?  

I let him go then, growling, “Get out of here”, and shove him away from me.  

He takes a few steps, then pauses. “Are you okay?”  

I hate that question, so I deflect. “Are you?”  

He surprises me. “I miss how we were before.” The emotion in his voice reminds me of exactly how young he is. “When you treated me like your little brother.”  

I’m standing by the mirror but when I look into it, all I see is a person who is shattered and is pretending to be whole. At least Josh doesn’t pretend he doesn't have emotions.  

I don’t look at him when I say, “I could use some of your brother’s infinite wisdom on a day like today.”

“Yeah.” He mutters. “Me too.”

Finally, I take a deep breath and say quietly, “I don’t know how not to be a jerk to you.”

On my words, he takes in a sharp intake of breath. I wait for him to say anything at all. Instead, the door slams shut behind him as he leaves.  

The events of the day overtake me and I can’t stop the bile from rising into my throat. I rush into a stall and lose my breakfast.

I’m splashing water on my face when Sam comes sauntering in. For a long time, I divided my life into “Before” and “After”. Before Germany and After. Before Germany, my best friend was Josh’s brother, Luke. Then I took a year abroad, he dropped dead during a ski race, and I came home to a world without my best friend in it.  

Now I mostly hang out with Taylor and Sam. Nowadays, I don’t do “Before Germany” and “After Germany” anymore. There are just too many before and afters to keep track of these days.

Sam and I will never be like Luke and I, but that’s okay. We’re friends. We hang out. He has my back, if not in a bodyguard capacity, at least emotionally.

“How are things with Caroline?” He asks hesitantly.

“According to someone in this school, we have a boatload of sex every single night.” I say with more venom than I knew I had in me.  

He nods slowly, “I’m sorry. I heard about that, man. That’s so shitty. If you need help beating up whoever did it, I got you.” When he says this, he’s trying to make light of the situation, not genuinely offering. He’s the biggest pacifist I know.  

If Luke had offered, he would’ve meant it.

“It’s whatever.” I shrug. 

“So Caroline?” He asks.  

“Things are strained”, I admit. “Everyone at this school is acting like I dodged a bullet.” I sigh. “When I actually took one.” I say pointedly, but I’m afraid to see Sam’s reaction, so I look back into the mirror, searching for the person I used to be.  

What kind of person do you become when the worst moment of your life becomes a joke to everyone around you? 

Sam sounds uncertain when he asks, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you sure you were ready for that?”

I want to glare at him. I want to tell him that if he says shit like that, I’m absolutely going to take it the wrong way. Instead, I shrug, “Well, it doesn’t matter anymore, now does it?”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything.  

**********************************************************

“Are you okay?” Taylor’s little brother asks when I get to lunch. “I heard someone filled your locker with condoms earlier.”

“Condoms!” Taylor growls, her face glowing red with anger. “You can’t be f*ing serious.”

“I’m fine.” I shrug. “Saved me some money.” My voice falls flat and everyone at the table knows it. They know me. Beyond the gossip, beyond the rumors, they’ve carried me these last few months. Even when I disappear, even when I push them away, they’ve got me.  

“Do you know who did it?” Taylor asks.  

I shake my head, “I thought, maybe Josh, but it wasn’t him.”

“He wouldn’t have.” Finn says. “Josh idolizes you, though God knows why. You’re such a dick to him.”  

“Finn.” His sister reprimands.  

Finn puts on his most innocent face, “What? It’s true.”  

Taylor’s afraid that if she brings the subject of Luke up to me, I’ll break down, so we never talk about him. She’s probably not wrong.  

Finn keeps speculating on who could’ve put the condoms in my locker, but I tell him to stop. The truth is, I don’t really want to know who put the condoms there. I want them to believe that it didn’t phase me. And I want to believe that whoever did it had a damn good reason.  

If I do find out, I’m going to learn without a reasonable doubt that some people just do cruel things to be assholes. And I don’t need that knowledge right now.

**********************************************************

Today’s health class chapter is on anorexia nerviosa and my stomach sinks as soon as I see the slides up on the smart board.

“Ryan”, the captain of the football team leans over and whispers, “Bet you wish you’d had this unit last year.”

His sidekick, Brett, chimes in “Or maybe he’s glad he dodged that bullet.”

I want to punch them both. They deserve it, but instead I grab my books off my desk, no longer able to carry them around in my backpack due to the new contents of backpack. I head towards the office, intent on signing out for the day. I won’t even have to lie about feeling sick. I feel like death. 

“Ryan”, Mr. Mullen calls out as I walk down the hallway. He’s the health class teacher. I wonder if he heard what went down. If so, why didn’t he say anything?  

“Where are you going?”

“Home.” I sigh, “I’m not feeling well.” I mutter quietly.  

“I owe you an apology. I meant to warn you about today’s topic.”

I flinch, but I don’t say anything.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of.” He says firmly. 

I shrug. “It wasn’t the topic exactly.”

He nods in understanding. “Brett and Everett will be on their way to the principal’s office in a moment.”  

“Thanks.” I whisper, but their punishment will never erase my pain.

“If you ever want to talk about it”, he says without hesitating, “My wife and I went through something similar several years back. Maybe it would help to have someone to talk to.”  

“Thanks. I don’t want to talk about it.” I turn to leave, and at the last minute feel the need to thank him for actually caring, for trying, even if just for a split second. Unlike everyone else. “But I appreciate it.” 

**********************************************************

When I get home, I have unread texts from everyone - my mom, dad, Taylor, Sam, Finn, Caroline. One catches my eye. It’s from Josh. “Heard what happened in Health Class. Hang in there. Luke would say to keep your head up. You know who your real friends are.” I swallow hard. If I start crying I won’t stop.

Then he adds, “I don’t know how to separate you from Luke either. So I get why you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” I text back. “I just - he was my best friend.” It’s a shitty thing to say to someone, like my meaning is something along the lines of “He’s gone and you’re not him.” But I don’t know what else to say. Plus, I can’t lie to him. Josh is a constant reminder of what I’ve lost and yet, him being here doesn’t make up for the hole that Luke left.  

My best guess is that he feels the same way about me. I always thought that if I was awful to him, he’d feel like I wasn’t trying to replace his brother. But somewhere along the way, the torment I put him through became worse than just being decent to him, brotherly even.

Today isn’t the first day I’ve been mocked or teased for getting Caroline pregnant at sixteen. But, things were rougher today than usual. For months, I’ve gotten kicked by everyone at school while I was down, and I’ve turned right around and done the same exact thing to Josh. I'm so exhausted. I can’t do it anymore.  

It feels so backwards. Luke died. I didn’t. Emily died. And I still didn’t.  

What made me so invincible? 

I look down at my phone. “Sometimes it’s hardest to be the one who gets left behind. But maybe we could try to be on the same side? Friends?” He texts. This kid is fourteen years old and he’s wiser than I’ll ever be at nearly eighteen.

“I’d like that. You’re as wise as your brother.” I type.

“I’ve had a lot of therapy.” He answers.  

**********************************************************

Caroline comes over at 8. No one else is home, so we just settle on the couch in the living room. We make small talk for a bit, then she finally tells me about how her therapy and treatment for her anorexia is going. Finally, she asks how I am. “I heard about the bullying at your school.”

“Ah.” My throat goes dry for a second and I cough. “That.” Her cousin, Amber, also goes to Woodlands, and even though we don’t run in the same circles, Caroline always hears if something important is happening.  

“Are you okay? You know, you can talk to me if things are bothering you.” 

I sigh. “Yeah, I’ve been struggling with some things.” Then I shake my head. “It’s not really about the bullying or the gossip. It’s just, every time they bring it up, it’s one more reminder of what we went through. I know we were young, I know you weren’t ready, but losing Emily? I know she was only a day old, but I’m not sure I’ll ever get past that.” Part of me is still in the NICU, my hand holding her tiny one. Part of me is still praying for a miracle that will keep her breathing.  

“You’re right, Ryan. I wasn’t ready.” Caroline’s expression is guarded. She’s gained a few pounds since Emily was born at 23 weeks, but as much as I’m happy for her that she’s getting the help she needs for her eating disorder, it doesn’t erase what happened.  

She didn’t tell me she was pregnant until 12 weeks. As soon as they heard, my parents got so excited, they offered to raise our baby as their own. It was like I won the parent lottery of teenage pregnancies. And truthfully? I got excited too. Even though I wasn’t going to raise her as my daughter, I was thrilled to discover who she’d turn out to be.   

I nod, but let Caroline continue. “But that doesn’t mean my heart isn’t broken just like yours. She was so tiny, but she was so beautiful. We’re so young and I wasn’t ready to be a mom, but it would have been nice to let your parents raise her, let her have a shot at a good life, you know? And I hate that that little girl I carried inside me for so many months didn’t have a chance. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you blame me.”

“I don’t blame you.” I sigh, staring at the couch instead of meeting her eyes. Because I’m not lying but I’m not being entirely honest either. I know inherently I can’t blame Caroline. But if I can’t blame Caroline, who can I blame?

“I blame me.” She says sadly.  

“It could have happened to anybody.” I say weakly. Anybody who starved their body instead of giving nutrition to their baby in utero.

It’s like she read my mind. “I know it could have, but it didn’t happen to anybody. It happened to us. And I’m not sure I’ll ever get over that.”  

I shake my head, thinking of the heart defect that killed Luke three years ago. Coming out of nowhere to land a blow that ended his life in a split second and shook everyone around him, including me. How is Anorexia so different?  

“Anorexia is a disease, Caroline. It’s not your fault. I’m glad you’re getting the help you need.” It’s kind of a standard scripted line that you use when you don’t know what else to say, but honestly I mean it. And yes, a massive part of me wishes she had gotten that help before our baby died. But I can’t change that. “And I hope that someday you’re able to forgive yourself. And have a whole little clan of mini-Carolines running around.” I add.

She nods. “Do you see yourself in that future?” She asks cautiously, like she’s terrified of the answer.  

I’m silent for several moments. Ever since Emily was born and didn’t make it, it’s like there’s this thing in the air between us. This whole alternate universe we never got to have. This loss didn’t bring us closer together; it only drove us apart. Maybe if we were grown up and married, we’d try again. But we’re not. Most kids our age grieve a loss like ours in silence, because it’s an impossible decision they have to make, feeling like they don’t have the resources to raise their child at this point in their lives.

We grieve our loss publicly because we didn't choose it, but the people around us can’t really fathom the situation, so instead, they mock us, they crucify us. For what? For breaking the condom? For being in love? For not doing an abortion in the first place? For Caroline’s eating disorder that ended in a tragedy, while Caroline herself got a second chance?  

I look at her, my silence full of the things I don’t know how to say. 

“It's okay.” She says quietly. “I get it. Maybe, we should take a break for a while."  

I already know we won’t get back together. I saw this coming the minute she got pregnant, when I begged her to carry the baby to term instead of having an abortion, and I saw our lives and what we wanted heading in opposite directions. But I didn’t want to believe it, that this was going to be too much for us. I wasn’t ready for another loss. So instead, we got handed an even bigger one.

But now, I nod. Because this time, there’s nothing I can do to stop this. I hug her one last time. “I love you.” I say, and she says it back. It isn’t love that we lack. But love isn’t everything.  

We kiss one last time, soft lips against each other’s, just for a brief moment, and then it’s over. We’re over. Just like our little girl’s heartbeat.