Martha’s Heart Breaks

I hug Sarah and slip my hand to her bum. Her right hand smacks my shoulder, and her frown darkens the world before it grows bright again with her brilliant white teeth under her firm, light pink lips. Her hazelnut hair flips across her cheek, her eyes narrow, and she steps backward.

“I hate when you do that. I don’t know if I can hike tomorrow, but maybe Saturday?” Sarah says.

“It’s a date,” I reply, disappointed about not hiking tomorrow but wanting to spend time with her.

She frowns before smiling. Her brunette hair sparkles in the bright sunlight. “Maybe.” I skip away, ‘maybe’ doesn’t mean no.

Birds call and fly under fluffy white clouds and a deep blue sky. The warmth of the sun and the memory of Sarah’s bubblegum scent have me singing under my breath.

Our small home with peeling paint reminds me of what I hate: old values, ideas, and ways of living life. I pause at the front door, calming my heart and increasing my courage to once again act like the perfect catholic school daughter. However, the memory of my male parent’s rant about me needing to find a male friend and my female parent’s long talk about my chastity vow, but also the importance of finding the perfect male mate, boils my blood and undoes my calming exercise.

I slam the front door to inform everyone that I have returned home, and they had better not annoy me. My female parent calls from the kitchen, “Welcome home, Mar. I have healthy snacks.”

I roll my eyes and drop my bag before I reply, “Whatever. I don’t want fucking vegetables, Lara.”

“Watch your language,” she shouts.

Stomping down the hall, I enter the tiny, efficient kitchen, with mismatching brown, green, and silver appliances, past my female parent, and glance in the upper cupboard where we sometimes have chocolate or chips. We have neither today.

“Why the frick don’t we have anything to eat?” I mumble and slam the cupboard door, but it doesn’t fully close and reopens a few inches. Whatever, I don’t care.

“I cut up carrots and peppers,” she says while cutting chicken for dinner.

“No one wants that junk,” I tell her as my stomach growls, but fuck it, if she doesn’t care, I don’t care.

The shit for a little male sibling has left another model toy plane in the middle of my bed. His footprints make dents in my pink and purple dragon bedspread. That fucker. I grab his toy, stomp to his room next door, fling the door open, and throw the plane above his head, hitting the smiling face of the smiling dog on his paw patrol poster. He rushes over to grab the toy, messing his unmade bed more.

“Keep your fucking toys out of my room,” I shout and step in, threatening him with my fist. The little brat rolls off the bed away from me and hides under his toy car and model plane covered desk.

“Mom,” he whines, pulling his Spiderman covers over his head.

“Martha, language.”

I slam his door to make my point and retreat to my room and phone. I fall onto my bed and bounce on the firm mattress I hate. I want a soft one, but my male parent unit refuses to get me one. Posters of Christian rock bands cover my walls. I use them to distract the parent units from my choice of music since they can’t understand my love for classic punk.

Lying on my bed, upset with my family, I debate doing homework. I need to figure out my math. I stick in my earbuds, rocking Dead Kennedys - Kill the Poor, before grabbing my math book and notes.

As the song switches to ‘Blondie - Call Me’, my phone dings, perfect timing, with a message from Sarah. Mouthing ‘Call Me,’ I unlock my phone, and excitement builds for Sarah’s text, ‘Teagan said you liked me.’

Crap. My heart slows while I fling myself onto my bed. The words glow on the screen below the conversation about tomorrow’s hike. Do I text Sarah that I like her? What if she texts yes? What if she texts no?

I reply, ‘You’re my best friend.’

A friend I want more from, but also my only friend. The idea of more makes my mind spin and soar like a bird under fluffy white heart-shaped clouds, while the mere thought of losing my best friend stills my hands and turns my empty stomach.

‘Teagan said you like liked me!’

Do I go for all the glory or play it safe? I can’t live with the current situation. Something needs to change. ‘Simple Plan’s - I’d do anything’ plays. God must have sent a message. I need to tell her.

I slowly type ‘Yes,’ but I can’t press the send button. My world will explode with her response - good or bad. I can’t take the chance, so I backspace over it and type ‘best friend.’ But pause and hover my finger over the send button. The blinking cursor bores into my brain, as it taunts and calls me chicken.

The All-American Rejects - Dirty Little Secret assaults me. Yes, God has spoken.

I add, ‘but also yes,’ and press send before I can stop myself.

The message appears under hers. The cursor blinks in the reply box as the world stands still. Only the faint creaks of the house remind me of the world beyond this message. The song finishes, and the ‘Ramones - I Want to be Sedated’ begins. The heavy guitar riff pounds while I hum to the song.

Sarah replies, ‘I only like you as a friend.’

The house creaks stop, and the music gets drowned out by a roar in my ears. My heartbeat slows to a beat a minute while all the air gets sucked out of my lungs and the room. Water streaks down my cheeks and drips off my chin. ‘Motion City Soundtrack’s - Everything is Alright’ matches my heartbeat, except, except, FUCK NO!

I pull the earbuds out and throw them across the room. My white phone joins the pods but makes a dent in my beige wall, adding another hole below Testify’s poster with four straight-laced guys frowning.