Paper Hearts

18

Luke walked into the ice cream shop right on time, looking flustered and more upset than I'd ever seen him before. I was sitting in the corner, absentmindedly stirring my ice cream with a plastic spoon until he dragged a chair over, the legs squealing against the tiles as he did so. He sat down, blowing out a breath, and waited for me to make eye contact. Once I finally did, he shook his head, saying,

"Tell me everything."

"There's not much to tell," I replied evenly. "I don't know why you made me come."

"Elle Dunst." He snapped, slamming his hand down on the table. "You said something about Elle Dunst. What did she do this time?"

"Look, Luke," I said, inhaling sharply, "It's nothing. I should go home; it's...it's been a long day."

"No," he said, and the heat in his gaze was angry, intense. "Stay. Please. I need—I need to know."

I released a breath.

"Fine."

And I told him. The more I talked, the stupider I felt, knowing that Elle Dunst was just making empty, catty threats to intimidate me. My story was basically the recap of a two-thousands-esque chick flick, and it really didn't matter; none of it did.

"I overreacted," I told him, growing exasperated and embarassed. "You shouldn't have come; it was—it was nothing."

"But it was," he said, rubbing a hand over his tired face. "Elle—she's...she can be intense, when she wants to be. And she's not one to hold back from dragging someone's name through the mud. She's a b***h, Victoria, in purest form. She gets jealous, and she humiliates the person she's jealous of. And—most of it's because of me."

"So you two were a thing."

"A long time ago," he said, his voice gruff. "It was hardly ever official; we just hung out and had fun, but for some reason—she hasn't let it go."

"I can see why," I muttered.

"What's that?"

"Nothing."

He shook his head, just looking at me.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You sounded overwhelmed over the phone."

"I'm okay, really."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Everything's going to be okay, Victoria."

I winced at the familiar words. "How many times are you going to tell me that?"

"As many times as it's going to take for you to believe it."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that, so I fell silent, even as Luke got up from his chair and offered his hand.

"I told Nolan's mom I'd pick him up from group therapy. Want to come?"

I glanced at my watch; it was already past four, nearing five. I didn't have much else to do, and I needed to get out of my head.

"It's interesting," Luke added, as if he needed another selling point. "Sometimes."

"Yeah, I'll come," I said, and he broke out into a grin.

"Good. Let's head out, then."

________

Nolan's therapy group was held in what seemed to be the almost-abandoned-but-not-quite Grayson Recreation Center, which was very popular in the late 90's, but not used for much else after that.

"It's the only location they could find," Luke explained, as he pulled into an empty parking space, of which there seemed to be many. I nodded, remembering the daycare centers I attended there, and the hours of elementary-school volunteer work I'd accomplished. Then, the Center had been full of people and activities. Now, the once-colorful paint was chipped and the the windows were dark and dusty.

"Let's go," Luke said, and I opened my door to step out, following him in.

Once inside, a gust of cold air sent shivers down my spine. My hands went immediately to my arms, rubbing vigorously, but—within an instant—Luke already had his coat shrugged off and in my hands.

"You don't—"

"Shut the hell up, Hemmings, and take something without protest for once in your life."

With that, he kept walking, his pace firm and brisk—I could tell that he was still pissed off at me, or Elle, or whoever had pissed him off that day—so I didn't say anything and followed, grateful for the sudden warmth it brought me.

We found Nolan sitting in a ring of old, plastic chairs in one of the half-lit classrooms among a bunch of other kids and a middle-aged couple, swinging his feet absentmindedly. Luke propped himself in the door frame, whipping out his phone and typing quickly. I watched Nolan a few feet away, who pulled out his own and looked up, taking us in, and then nodded briskly.

"As I was saying, Jake," the older woman was telling a short kid with a beanie, "Sometimes our parents don't understand our problems. Sometimes, the least you can do is respect them."

"Unless they're being self-righteous douchebags who disown you based on your political stances." Nolan said, nodding his head with a quirky smile that Jake was all too quick to return.

Beside me, Luke snorted, shaking his head.

"Nolan," he muttered under his breath, and I couldn't help but laugh as the woman gave us a sideways glance before saying to him.

"Nolan, what do you say to Jake?"

At this, the boy gave a great, exaggerated sigh.

"I apologize if I have caused you any emotional trauma upon informing you that your parents should not be respected in the case that they are self-righteous douchebags who disown you based on your political stances."

"It's okay." Jake said, smiling, and a lull of laughter rippled throughout the room. A few moments of silence passed after that, and then a thin girl raised her hand.

"Yes, Gracie?" Said the older man, with a big smile. "How was your week?"

"Better," she said tentatively. "I—I ate all three meals yesterday. I didn't skip anything."

"And did it stay down?"

"Yes." She nodded, swallowing hard. "All of it."

"Okay, then, we all know what that means!" He said, and the woman (who I assumed was his wife) began to clap. And then the person next to her joined in, and then the next person, and so on and so forth.

Soon, the entire room was filled with loud applause—some cheers and whistles in-between—and even Luke was clapping. After a while, I decided to join too, clapping along with the rest of them. Gracie looked a bit overwhelmed, but happy all the same.

"Thanks, guys," she said, her cheeks colored a deep red. "It—it means a lot."

"Of course it does," the woman enthused, "This is a big milestone for you, and we're proud of you."

A chill went through me. Nolan had talked lightly about his fellow therapy-group attendees, but I never actually thought there would be people like this in there with him. Gracie seemed pretty and perfectly healthy, but now that I knew this information about her, I felt as if I were looking at an entirely different person. Suddenly, her shirt seemed too loose around her shoulders, and her collarbones were prominent, and her thighs were practically nonexistent. The fact that she could talk so freely about something so dangerous and emotional in front of Luke and I—who were complete strangers—was mindblowing, too.

I was beginning to wonder whether I should attend group therapy. Maybe it would help the issues I had with my mom.

Don't be stupid; people would just laugh at you. This place is for people with actual, life-changing issues. Not for you.

Assuring myself that this was the right way to think about it, I waited until the group wrapped up, and then I found myself being steered inside by Luke, who kept a hand at the small of my back, pushing me forward.

"If you don't let them out, it becomes a human traffic jam."

I nodded, silent, and made my way to Nolan, who narrowed his eyes.

"He gave you his coat."

"Well—"

"First sign of infatuation," he said, clearing his throat and looking up at Luke, "is when a man gives his just-a-friend companion his coat. Completely cliché, but for some reason, it always works."

"Shut up, Nolan." Luke snapped, and I just gaped, open-mouthed.

At this, he sighed.

"I apologize if—"

"It's fine," I interrupted swiftly. "No emotional trauma here. It's all good."

"Come on, we have to split," Luke said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Your mom's waiting."

"You mean my self-righteous—"

"No," Luke reprimanded, and I laughed outright. I was beginning to like Nolan Johnson more and more.

"We'd better go," he finally concluded, beginning to make towards the exit. "Otherwise Trisha and John will try to get you to join the group."

That was all it took to have Luke speed-walking out the room. I, however, lingered behind Nolan, shooting the girl who'd spoken about her eating disorder—Gracie—a curious glance. She just smiled at me.

"Victoria!" I heard Luke call, and, shaking my head, I headed out after them.