A Tragic Heart (9 page)

“It’s yours! I haven’t been with anyone but you within the past few months!” I hear the girl say.

Haven’t these people ever heard of contraception?

“Don’t try to deny it. We’ve been through this before, and I’m keeping it. You just have to tell her!”

So he’s already taken. High school girls—they’re so stupid. The guy is even worse for doing it to himself in the first place. I’m about to move along when I hear: “Mason, you tell her or I will!”

It can’t be. It isn’t
my
Mason. There are plenty of other Masons around, aren’t there?

“Fine, I’ll tell her. Just give me some time.”

It is he
. It is my Mason, except he isn’t only
my
Mason. My dad was right. I married a boy who didn’t give a damn about me. I can’t hold it in any longer. I forget I’m looking for Peyton. I turn the corner and as soon as I see Mason, I slap him in the face. It’s my woman’s instinct unveiling its ugly face. “You son-of-a bitch! I fucking hate you!” I scream, pushing him up against the wall.

I’m ready to fight him, one on one. I don’t care if he’s bigger and stronger than I am. I want a fight. It’s the only way to relieve this anger growing inside of me.

“Taylor, calm down, let me—”

“Don’t you dare say, ‘Let me explain,’ you fucking liar!”

By this time, everyone is staring. More so than the time Peyton yelled at me in the diner.

“You promised! You said you loved me, and I believed you. You promised, Mason! You asked
me
to marry
you
. You promised…” I burst into tears.

I don’t care who hears or sees—which is everyone.

“Taylor—” he says, with an apologetic look on his face.

I just turn around and walk away.

“So she loses both of her men. Looks like someone fell off of her high horse, huh?”

Keely
. I don’t say anything; I just punch her. It’s enough for her head to make friends with the wall and for blood to trickle down her nose. I think that’s all she needs to get the point because she doesn’t say anything else after that. I see Peyton. There are words in his eyes, but I don’t stay long enough to read them.

I make it back to the apartment, and there’s only one thing I want to do. I rush into the kitchen and pick out the perfect knife.
This is it
. I know what I wanted out of life. I have no Jackson, no
Mason, and no Peyton. First, I take out my laptop to do something I haven’t done in months. I write a new journal entry.

December 27, 2008

What exactly is resentment? Is it when you can’t forgive someone, or is it when you can’t forget? Or maybe it’s a little bit of both. Resentment is something I am full of and have been for a while. Can someone who has been full of resentment for years finally drop that feeling? If so, what exactly would it take? As a person who knows the feeling of resentment very well, I know that it’s something very hard to overcome—possibly even harder than overcoming loneliness.

You see, the difference between loneliness and resentment is that once that special person comes along, your loneliness is cured. But to overcome resentment, a person has to prove they’re truly sorry and didn’t mean to do what took place before that feeling came. Sometimes, even proof isn’t enough. A person may never be able to trust again or feel for anyone or anything again, once resentment has found its way into that person’s heart.

Once again, is resentment when you can’t forgive someone, or is it when you can’t forget? I truly believe one can’t forgive if she can’t forget. Once a memory is installed into someone’s mind, it’s there forever. You may not be able to change the past, but you will always remember it. I know what we are all supposed to do is forgive. We can’t be forgiven unless we forgive. It may sound easy, but it’s actually one of the hardest things to do. Did you know the three hardest things to say are “help me,” “I love you,” and “I’M SORRY”?

Well, in the past few months, I’ve said all three and here I am.

I think one thing that helps to heal resentment is expression. If one expresses himself or herself, it won’t take resentment so long to go away, or it might actually prevent resentment. Well, I’m about to express myself in such a way that’s unforgettable. I don’t want another broken heart. I don’t want to have to cry
myself to sleep every night like I used to. I don’t want to go back to being who I was before.

Final good-bye,

T.C.
T.

I go back into the kitchen, where I have everything set up. I print out the entry that I wrote and put it on the counter. I rest my left arm on the counter and pick up the knife with my right hand. I am ready.
The final sacrifice
. Mason doesn’t love me. Peyton doesn’t care about me. And Jackson is too angry with me. I put the knife to my wrist, close my eyes, and cut deep. I want the pain to bleed out and the anger to drip on the floor. I let a few tears fall and I don’t wipe them because they are purifying my soul. I start getting weak; and I forget all about today.

Mason

I
love her
.
I do
. It was all a mistake; a huge one that can’t be fixed. It was one time, then two, and then three, and then it became a habit. I have to get home to her; I’m just hoping she’s there. I’m speeding to the apartment; I have to talk to her. God, how could I be so stupid? I want to spend the rest of my life with her and I want her to know that. I hate myself for this. She was so good to me. She trusted me. She needed me. And I shot her down. I try calling her while I’m driving, but there’s no answer. I expect that, since she’s probably too upset to speak to me. I embarrassed her and I allowed Judas’s spirit to attain me while I betrayed her.

I finally make it to the apartment, which seemed to take longer than usual even though I was going seventy on local streets. I open the door and call her name.
No answer
. I check the bedroom, the living room, and then the bathroom. I even check the guest room. No sign of her. Her things are still here, in order, like they always are. I call her cell phone and I hear it ring.
She’s still here
! I follow the sound into the kitchen, and that’s when I see it: the worst site anyone can see. I freeze for a second and then I drop to my knees. The floor is her blood’s canvas. I hold her and try to check her pulse, but I’m too upset to find it. I start shaking and my mind goes blank. I quickly dialed 911 and tell them the emergency. They’re asking too many questions, so I begin yelling. They tell me someone will be here shortly and to just hold on.
Hold on
? They shouldn’t be telling me those words, they should be here telling Taylor to hold on. I call Peyton. He deserves to know.

“Hello?”

There’s still noise from the party going on.

“Peyton, I need you!” I shout.

“Mason? What’s wrong?”

“You have to come to my place now! Tell Jagger to take care of the party!” I say, still yelling.

“Mason, what—”

“It’s Taylor…she may be dead.”

Peyton

M
y heart disintegrates into nothing. I don’t think I’m hearing right, but Mason makes himself so clear.
Taylor may be dead, and it’s all my fault
. If I’d just been there for her, this would not have happened.

“Wait, what?” I ask Mason in disbelief.

“There’s a lot of blood, and she’s starting to get cold. She slit her wrist, and I can’t do anything about it. Peyton, I can’t fix this. This is entirely my fault, and I can’t help her! She’s my wife, and I can’t help!” He’s yelling and talking really fast.

I’ve never heard Mason this upset before. I’m on my way out the door as he talks. I have to be there for him—
for her
. “Mason, I know this is hard for you, but try to stay calm. I’m on my way now!” I say really loudly into the phone.

Stay calm
. I can’t even tell myself that right now.
Taylor, why
? Why would you do something so stupid? She has more to live for than just Mason and me.
She’s talented and smart and funny
.
And I’m incredibly stupid!
I thought her being away from me was the best thing, but I know that I’m part of the reason she did this. I saw the way she looked at me when she was leaving the party. I wanted to go after her then, but I didn’t want to get too close. Besides, her last words to me were, “Go to hell Peyton.”
And maybe I should
…

I get to Mason’s only to see the ambulance taking her away on a stretcher with an oxygen mask over her face. That means she’s not dead. Thank God. I see Mason speaking to a police officer. There are people all around him, staring, trying to figure out what
happened. I go up to Mason as fast as I can. I know he needs me right now the way I needed him the day my mom died. I wait until the police officer finishes his job before I speak to Mason.

“Is she going to be okay?” I ask with a great deal of concern.

“They said she’ll live. She didn’t cut a main artery or vein, but it may be a while before she wakes up, since she lost a lot of blood. She needs a blood transfusion. This is my fault.”

I see the hurt in his eyes and hear the pain in his voice.

“Mason, this is not your fault. I’ll drive you to the hospital, if you like,” I say, trying to be caring.

“Yeah, that’ll be good. Thanks, Peyton,” he says in a tired voice.

***

We arrived at the hospital along with the ambulance. I can still see the worry in Mason’s eyes. He loves her, and I feel guilty. He stays with her every step of the way. He walks by her side until they tell him he can’t go any further. He loves her, but he made a mistake.

“It’s going to be okay, Mason,” I tell him, still trying to convince myself.

Mason walks outside and sits on a bench in front of the hospital. I follow him.

“Do you have a cigarette?” he asks in a lifeless tone.

I hand him one with my lighter without saying a word. After about five minutes of silence, I speak. “You know, you can cry, if you want.”

“It won’t solve anything,” he says in the same lifeless tone, exhaling the smoke from his cigarette.

“But it may make you feel better.” I pause for a while. “I’ll cry with you, if you want.”

He smiles a little and looks at me. “Thanks, Peyton. I really do appreciate it.”

And I felt even guiltier
.

“She left a note, a suicide letter, I guess.” Mason hands me the letter.

It looks like one of the journal entries that she used to let me read. I read it and all I can do is look down at the ground in silence. I brought the feeling of resentment back into her life. The very thing I worked so hard to strip away from her, I handed to her on a silver platter.

Mason

A
fter waiting for a while outside, Peyton and I decide to go back into the hospital to see if there is any update. The doctors say she’s pretty much stabilized, but she hasn’t awakened. They say her body is probably still in shock.
I know mine is
. As I sit next to Peyton, I begin to notice people and their families waiting around and I realize that I never called Taylor’s parents—or mine, for that matter.

“Peyton, I’ll be back. I have to make a few phone calls. I have to call Taylor’s parents and mine, also.”

“Okay, I’ll come get you if anything changes.”

This is the Peyton I knew. The compassionate, helpful, and dependable Peyton. I don’t know who the other guy was a few weeks ago.

I decide to call Taylor’s parents first. Even though they aren’t active in her life at the moment, I feel it’s only appropriate to tell them first.

“Hello,” a tired voice answers.

“Hi, is this Mrs. Caldwell?” I ask politely.

“Yes, who is this?”

They don’t even know the voice of their own son-in-law.

“It’s Mason—Taylor’s husband.” I shudder at the phrase, only because of what I did to her.

“What do you want at this time in the morning?” she asks, a bit annoyed.

“It’s about Taylor—”

“Taylor is of none of our concern anymore. You’re her husband; you take care of it.”

Taylor says her parents never cared about her, but I didn’t know they could be this harsh. I mean, she’s their daughter; Mrs. Caldwell could at least pretend to be a little bit concerned. I know I would if I got a call about my daughter at three fifteen in the morning.

“Taylor’s in the hospital,” I say bluntly. “She tried to commit suicide, but she’s okay, if you’re worried about her. She hasn’t awakened yet because her body is in shock, and she needed a blood transfusion. But other than that, she’s okay. You know, if you’re worried,” I say in a sadistic tone before hanging up.

I didn’t mean to be so rude and hang up on her mother, but what she said was uncalled for; and I was already upset enough.

“Mason, is everything okay?” My mom asks when I call her.

“Not really. It’s Taylor—she’s in the hospital.”

“Oh my God! Is she okay? What happened?” I hear my mom starting to worry.

I knew that question would come. What happened? I will have to tell her the truth and then tell her why. She’s going to be pissed at me.

“She tried to commit suicide. She slit her wrist,” I say nervously.

“Why would she do something like that? Was she depressed? How long have she been this way? Mason, this isn’t making any sense to me.”

It’s about to
.

“Mom, I did a horrible thing that I can’t forgive myself for,” I say, starting to panic. “I’m really sorry about it and I would change it if I could, but I know it’s too late and things will never be the same. It’s my fault, really; she did it because of me. There’s no one else to blame but myself.” I’m going a hundred and eighty miles per second.

“Mason, slow down. I can’t understand—what’s your fault?”

“I cheated on Taylor. I cheated on her with a random girl I met one day after school. She was new, and I was showing her around, and I messed up, and now she’s pregnant, and she’s keeping it,” I say, trying to keep myself together.