A Tragic Heart (7 page)

“Take your own advice, Peyton,” I say with a smile.

“And you should do the same,” he snaps.

“Why does it matter so much to you if I speak to Jackson again or not?”

“Because from the way you speak about him, I know it means the world to you if you ever speak to Jackson again or not,” he says, mimicking the way I say it. “Tay, I care about you and I just want you to be happy. I appreciate you helping me through my hard times, but it’s time for you to help yourself. What makes Taylor happy?”

What makes Taylor happy
? That’s a question I have never asked myself. It’s a question no one has ever asked me. Not even Jackson.
What makes Taylor happy
? Mason makes me happy. Jackson always makes me happy. It kind of bothered me once I realized that only people make me happy. It couldn’t be very smart to place my contentment in the hands of mere human beings.

“You make me happy,” I state, not actually realizing I say it out loud.

Peyton blushes. I can tell he was taken off guard, but he quickly gathers himself together.

“I mean, you always listen to what I have to say and you get me—possibly more than Jackson does,” I say. “You make me smile even when I don’t think I have the strength to. Peyton, you’re my lifesaver, so I have no problem with helping you through your
problems because I know you’ll always be there for me,” I add quickly, before he can respond to my last statement.

“Wow. And I thought I only felt that way about you. I guess we really are each other’s other half. Taylor Caldwell-Taylor where have you been all my life?” he says in a teasing manner.

“I take back what I said. You’re a jerk!” I say, pushing his shoulder.” “Oh my God, Peyton! It’s your birthday in two weeks. What do you want?”

“Nothing I can think of. You know, I’m not crazy about birthdays. Especially since mine is two days after Christmas. I always get cheated,” he says with a forced smirk.

“We should have a party!” I say, knowing that I’m a little too excited for my own good.

“You’re nuts! I’ve been trying to kill my partying ways.”

“No, I’m serious. I’ve never helped throw a party before!”

“You know, you are no good for my rehabilitation process, kid.”

“Yeah, well, it’ll be pretty cool. You can rehabilitate after the party.”

“I don’t know about that one, Tay,” he says as he finally stops walking and faces me. “Where would we have it? We can’t throw a party at my apartment, and don’t even say yours!”

“My in-laws’ house!”

In-laws
. That still feels weird to say. Even though they love me and accepted me right away, it just feels different. But I am glad to say that they are more like my mom and dad than my real mom and dad are. They even call to check up on me. Eva and Henry haven’t spoken to me since they agreed to give me the freedom of becoming an emancipated minor.

“Mason’s parents’ house? My aunt and uncle? You want to turn their house into a debauchery festival? Yeah, you have finally lost it, Tay.” He shakes his head and puts his hand on my shoulder.

“You deserve to have fun, Peyton. And what teenager would turn down an after-Christmas party? Free drinks and no school for two weeks. I think we’d end up with a nice-size crowd.”

“I don’t like crowds, you know that. And neither do you!”

“I know, but it’s fun to pretend I do. To pretend I’m normal. And it would make me feel even better if you accepted this idea
and decided to have fun on your birthday for once in your life. My last birthday was the most memorable day of my life. I just want something similar for you.”

“Maybe you should marry me,” Peyton mumbles sarcastically.

“Peyton, please be serious!”

“Well, I guess it would be cool to have an after-Christmas party on my birthday. And I’d have you there, so if anything goes wrong I can blame it all on you. Fine! Let’s do this! Who needs sobriety at this age, right?” he teases.

I grab his hands and intertwine his fingers with mine while looking into his warm, green eyes, which are starting to show love rather than pain. “Thank you, Peyton. I promise this will be the best birthday you have had so far. And I always try my best to keep my promises.” I let go of his hands and turn around to start walking because I’m starting to feel warm inside.
And I don’t like it
.

Later on, Peyton and I go out for dinner. We decide we want to go to our favorite diner. They have the best burgers, and Peyton and I aren’t exactly ready to call it a night yet. The waitress takes our orders, and that’s when Peyton and I start talking about his after-Christmas party.

“So this thing is going to be huge, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, I mean, if you want it to be. It’s all up to you. What do you want?” I ask. I’m excited by just the thought of the idea.

“I don’t know. If I knew, I wouldn’t be Peyton Giordano,” he says, looking at the desert menu.

“Giordano. I love your last name. It makes me want lasagna or something,” I say, teasing him.

He laughs that beautiful laugh and says, “Well, my dad is Italian. As you can see from the hair, I took after my mom’s side.”

“Which is Mason’s side, right?”

“Yeah. She was his dad’s sister. They were really close, kind of like you and Jackson. That’s one of the reasons why I push for you to speak to him. My mom and Brian, Mason’s dad, didn’t really speak much after she married Karson. It wasn’t because they didn’t love each other anymore; it was just that Karson monitored who she spoke to because he didn’t want her to tell anyone what was going on with them—especially Brian. I guess maybe he knew Brian
would kill him or something. You know, they still don’t know that’s why my mom died. They think it was just some tragic accident. They don’t know that Karson would hit us and that she was running away from him. The only one who knows is Mason, and he promised to keep it a secret—even though he was angry because my mom was his favorite aunt.”

I watch as the pain returns to Peyton’s eyes. It’s so strong that the sorrow reflects back to me.

“I know you don’t like people to say it, but I’m sorry, Peyton. I really am.”

“It’s all right,” he whispers with hurt in his voice.

“Have you ever thought of speaking to someone about this? I mean, you’ve experienced a lot of hurt, and I know that it’s hard for you to deal with it sometimes,” I risk saying.

He looks up at me with anger. It’s a look I have never seen on his face before. I am scared.

“Have you ever thought about talking to someone about Tyler?” he asks with a raised voice.

“Peyton, calm down. It was just a question! And, yes, I have. It’s not so bad to speak with someone. I think it’s great that you confide in me and I’m glad we can be there for each other, but we may need more.”

I’m afraid to speak anymore. His look is like ice.
Cold and hard
.

“I mean, with everything that’s happened with Karson, your mom, and now your dad, Peyton, you really should—”

“Taylor, will you shut the hell up?” he shouts.

“Peyton, people are—”

“Staring? I don’t give a damn! Let them stare!”

“Peyton, please—”

“No! Don’t tell me what I should do or what would be good for me. You can’t give me advice when you’re just as fucked up as I am, if not more!”

I am speechless, but not in the same way Mason makes me. This is different. I am hurt and embarrassed. I want my Peyton back. This boy yelling at me is a stranger, and I have definitely never met him. Not even for a split second.

“Peyton, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Anything by it? Yeah, whatever. I’m leaving. Call a taxi!” he says, throwing money on the table.

I cry as I watch him leave. The waitress comes back to see if I’m okay. I tell her I am and ask her if she can cancel the order. I pay the full price anyway. I just think it’s the right thing to do. I walk out the diner with my head down and wait for my taxi to arrive. I hope it comes soon.

Peyton

W
hat is wrong with me? I made her cry. I never wanted to make her cry. She’s my best friend. I share things with her that I’m sometimes too afraid to admit to Mason. Maybe that’s why I freaked out. Maybe she knows too much about me. Maybe we should stop being friends. Maybe it’s just my illness talking. I hate this! I can’t even be normal for just a few hours. I hate that I have to rely on medication to control my emotions. The one thing Taylor doesn’t know is that I’ve been seeing someone. I’ve had a counselor for a while now; she’s referred me to a psychiatrist. Is that crazy or what? Or maybe I’m the crazy one. I guess it just freaked me out that Taylor decided to mention a counselor when she didn’t know I’m already seeing one. It’s like she knows me too well.

I don’t want her to know for a reason. I don’t want to lose her. She’s all that I have right now. Mason has changed since he’s been married and he’s always working, so he can’t be there for me like he used to. I knew something was wrong. I’ve felt it for a long time. From the time I sent Justin to the hospital just for talking about my hair. There was never a need to become that violent. I knew something wasn’t normal but I tried to avoid it.

Taylor’s never seen me like this so I know it scared her. I just want to be normal for a day and live without my meds, like everyone else. I didn’t mean to hurt her—God knows I mean it. Now, I’m not schizophrenic, but I’m pretty close. My psychiatrist says I’m bipolar. I’m always either too hot or too cold. I can never reach a
middle ground. My medication helps, but it still doesn’t make me normal. I’m afraid that I will never be normal.

That explains the entire outburst and why I don’t sleep at night; instead, I stay up all night and compose new music. She says that’s normal while I’m in the manic phase. Creativity tends to come alive during those moments. The only bad thing is that I can’t control the outbursts—kind of like what just happened with Taylor. I hope she’s all right and gets home safely. I’m too embarrassed to call her right now, and besides, she probably hates me. I know I hate me.

I walk into my apartment, sit down on the couch, and light a cigarette. I’m a singer and I shouldn’t smoke, but I do during times like these. I just can’t get the look on Taylor’s face out of my head. It was horrible to watch. I feel like I just killed her and stomped on her heart. I want her to know that I’m sorry. I put the cigarette out and do what I do best when I’m this upset. I take out my pocketknife and pull off my shirt. I cut a line down the left side of my chest, just so that enough blood trickles down to my navel. I hurt Taylor’s heart tonight, so I want to come just as close to hurting mine.

Mason

I
want to kill him
. I never thought I’d think that way of Peyton, but he hurt her. She’s my wife, and he made her take a cab home alone at night. It started to rain while she was waiting for the cab, so now she’s drenched. She’s shivering from being wet for so long. I don’t know what’s happened to Peyton, but he has something coming to him.

“Tay, why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t know if you were off from work or not. I didn’t want to disturb you,” she says hurtfully.

“Babe, I’m never too busy for you! Especially in situations like this.”

“I’m sorry, Mason.”

“Don’t be. It’s Peyton who should be sorry…or at least he will be!” I feel the anger rise in me like the flames in
Dante’s Inferno
.

“Go easy on him, Mason. Something’s wrong; I know it! It wasn’t Peyton. Peyton was gone; I saw it in his eyes.”

“Please don’t defend him; it’s making me angrier!”

“I’m not defending him, but maybe you should ask him what’s wrong. He is your best friend. I wouldn’t want to be the reason to tear you two apart. You’re like brothers, and I’m just a girl.”

“You’re my wife, and that means I can’t and won’t let anyone speak to you or treat you the way he did tonight. I was serious when I made that vow. Family or not!”

“I know you were, Mason, and I love you for that. I really do,” she says. When she kisses me softly, there’s a taste of sadness.

“I’m going to take a shower now and then I’ll come to bed. You don’t have to wait up for me,” she says. Her voice sounds as if her world has ended.

I hate seeing her like this. Even more, I hate it that Peyton means so much to her. I’m not jealous or anything, but I just miss having my wife sometimes. I try my best to always be here for her, even though I know I haven’t been around much lately. I’m angry with Peyton, but I should be angry with myself. I made that vow; not him. He may have hurt her tonight, but I’m afraid I’ve hurt her even more. I’m not always here, but I should be.
I should be
.

She comes out of the shower with just her towel on, and I just can’t help but stare at her.

“What?” she asks curiously.

“You’re beautiful.” It’s all I can say.
It’s true
.

“And you’re perfect,” she says, coming closer to me.

I’m not.

“I should thank you for being the best husband alive. Most guys couldn’t do it; especially at your age,” she says, and there is sincerity written all over her body.

“Well, I try.” I force a smile.

“I love your smile, even when it is forced.”

She knows me too well
.

“Don’t let Peyton upset you, he was just having a rough day. He didn’t mean it,” she says, standing directly in front of me. “Now make me feel better.” She lets her towel fall off.

She kisses me and tells me she loves me; then she whispers in my ear, “You’re perfect.”

I’m not
.
And I’m sorry
.

Taylor

T
he next morning I wake up with a heavy heart and dread going to school. I’m still upset because of the situation with Peyton, but I have to keep reminding myself that I still have Mason, and he isn’t going anywhere. I just wish that I could read Peyton. I know something’s wrong, but I don’t know what. I’ve never seen him like that before and I never want to again. I hope today we can talk about it and just get past it. I just don’t want Mason to say anything to him first; I’m sure Peyton feels bad enough.

I finally get out of bed and get into the shower, but for some reason I cry. I don’t know if it’s because of Peyton or because I’m just tired. I just know that something’s not right. And not only with Peyton. Maybe I should take my own advice about talking to someone. I think that’s the only healthy thing to do right now. I hear a knock at the door.