I did consider for a moment that what I was doing was stalking, a possibly dangerous and illegal act but I didn’t really care. I spent three uncomfortable hours in the tree that day. I could only see the back of him sitting in his chair at the desk but sometimes he would lean back, put his hands behind his head and run his fingers through the front of his hair in a way that I always loved. The day was hot, his window and shades were open. That would be harder to explain if the occupants of the house noticed me but I had faith that I could come up with a plausible story.Īn added benefit of being in the tree? I could partially see into Serge’s room. I climbed up the tree in their front yard. I was a little older than the most of the kids that did that but passable.īike taken care of, but I didn’t know what to do with my presence, so again I did the only sensible thing. Even if they were, our street was overrun with kids leaving their bikes and sporting equipment around. It didn’t look to me as if anyone were home. I hid my bike behind the overgrown bushes of the house I stood in front of. Mentally healthy people didn’t do what I was doing. He could look out his bedroom window and see me. The heat pounding down on me, making me perspire, woke me up to the fact of the ridiculousness of my position. My mind spun fantasies of our life together on the East Coast as I stood in the middle of the street staring up at his house like a lost dog. I had hoped to go to Stanford as my parents had but I was sure Harvard would be just fine too. Or maybe I would go to school in Boston too. He would see my newfound sparkling mental health, be impressed that I hadn’t bombarded with crazy, angry messages and we would be in love again, happy forever or until we went off to separate colleges. I could pretend I was just walking by, on my way to down to Sunset to get something to eat. I did not plan on burning any part of his house down but Q had given me a good idea. I did ride my bike four blocks down the road to Serge’s house. She liked the lipstick too.įinished with breakfast, I told my mother I was going for a bike ride.

I let her know that we would be going to a later showing and went at her with a fury. Her hippie look I never really liked was in that moment seductive, enticing. Her golden brown hair in two long braids, the cat eyes that looked up at me with a little smile on her face. Her plump body that had only improved with weight was hidden in her olive military style pants and oversized mustard cardigan.

Marianne sat on the bed playing with my computer. I walked out her door and did not look back. Danny.” I didn’t know what I meant to say.

I looked into her eyes and wanted to reprimand her but saw nothing.

Heartbreaker Breaks by Paloma Meir