Broken Bones

Amy Anderson writes Broken Bones for the Prose Poetics unit, a story on love and heartbreak.

Some broken things never mend (Image: Adobe Stock)

She’d broken her arm the day after we broke up. Karma, I’d say.

‘Get up.’ She says it coldly, standing over me. I must've fallen asleep.

‘Fuck off, B.’ I mumble it out, enjoying the damp grass on the bottom of my back. I close my eyes, and she kicks me in the arm.

‘I said fuck off, B,’ I say a little louder.

‘Jamie, stop being a prick, get up.’ She says, ‘Apologise to Craig for throwing up in the sink.’ It’s always this guy’s name in her mouth. I don't like Craig. He can’t grow a moustache yet insists on never shaving the greasy caterpillar crawling along his lip.

‘How’d you know it was me?’

‘Lily.’

Little prick.

I groan when I feel her tug at my other arm. She’s sighing, disappointed that she still feels responsible for taking care of me. No one needs to take care of me. 

‘If Craig wants an apology, he can ask himself, now fuck off.’

She drops my arm. I’m not looking at her, but I hear the huff she breathes out. ‘Grow up, Jamie.’

‘Planning on it, Bonnie.’ I yell back to her, lazily waving my hand up at her. Grow up? Craig can grow the fuck up. I don’t hate him. I just think he’s a massive wimp with some sorta sick fantasy for homewrecking.

The hardest part about sharing a group of friends with your girlfriend is that when you break up, no one wants to pick sides.

Once I know B's gone, I get up. Craig’s parents have a nice house, which pisses me off because Craig doesn’t deserve these nice things. Yet, it gives me a satisfying feeling knowing I defiled their beautiful porcelain sink. 

I can hear the party inside; the sound of bad pop music is torturing my ears. I’m sure B feels the same way, but she’s nicer than me, so she would never say anything against the music Craig chose himself.

I wander inside and see Henry and Lily talking on the couch.

‘Thanks, you narc.’ I intrude myself between the two of them and glare at Lily, who's grinning from ear to ear. Always wanting to cause me trouble.

‘Only thing better than drunk Jamie is seeing drunk Jamie get a talking to from B.’ This was always the case whenever we’d go to these parties, even in high school. B would always have a problem with me, no matter what I did.

‘What have you guys been doing?’ I swing my arms around both their shoulders, bringing them closer. I should grab another drink.

‘We scavenged for some markers to write on B’s cast,’ Henry smiles lazily at me. He had a pungent musk: ‘She’s getting it off soon.’

I scoff, ‘What? No. She only got it four weeks ago.’ I lower my arms, craning my neck towards the kitchen to see what kind of drinks are for the taking on the counter. 

‘Sometimes the bones just heal faster.’ Henry is looking in the kitchen too, but he’s looking at the snack table. 

‘Well, I drew a little kitty near her elbow.’ Lily says as softly as she can over the blasting music, leaning her head against my shoulder. I kiss the top of her head before I pull myself off the couch.

‘C’mon, let's go dance.’ I hold my hands out for Lily and Henry, who both make no immediate action to take them. 

‘I think Henry's greened out, so I'm gonna stay here with him for a bit.’ Lily says, shuffling her feet on the leather couch as she looks over at Henry, who's staring straight ahead at nothing.

I think Henry is a grown man who can take care of himself, but I don't say that and leave them on the couch. Time for another drink.

I look out the kitchen window and see B on the grass, but she hasn't fallen asleep as I did; she’s hunched over. Probably crying, for whatever reason. She’d always done this whenever we argued. I steal a Corona from Craig’s fridge and make my way outside to her. 

She doesn’t lift her head when she hears the sliding door open, but she does drop it further into her arms once she hears me.

‘When’re you getting your cast off?’ I hear my words slur together slightly as I take a seat next to her, and I have to stop myself from lying down again, scared I’m going to fall asleep. 

She wipes her face with the sleeve of her jacket, her eyes glossy as she looks at me, as she sniffs a string of snot up her nose. She couldn’t be an ugly crier if she tried. ‘What?’

‘When are you getting it off?’ I poke at her cast with my finger, and realise that I might've been a little bit too rough when she pulls it away from me. I mutter a quiet apology.

‘I get it off Monday,’ she’s cradling it in her lap, but she smiles at me, pulling her sleeve up so I can see the whole thing. 'Strong bones.’

She doesn’t smile the way she would for Craig; this smile is specifically for me. I like this smile best. I laugh softly and admire all the little pieces of writing along the white plaster. I spot Lily’s kitty that she’s drawn in purple marker. I trace my hand over the picture, making sure to go gently this time.

Suddenly, I trace along green stars that are dotted along B’s wrist, and that smile doesn't matter anymore. 

‘Oh, there he is.’ I drop my hand from her cast and pull away from B, lying down in the grass. ‘Like fucking always.’ 

It’s the same little green stars I started noticing in her notebooks after her uni tutorials, on her hands, on little notes in her jackets. Always after seeing Craig. 

‘What?’ She looks down at her cast, scanning it, ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Your boyfriend already left his little mark.’

There's suddenly a silence I wasn't expecting, but I don’t want to open my eyes; I want to succumb to the sleep that's begging to take over. 

‘What is your problem?’ She’s standing up now, and she’s got her fists clenched as she’s standing over me, ‘What is your actual fucking problem with Craig?’

I automatically scoff and stand up, towering over her, ‘Craig is a prick,’ I yell, matching B’s animated hand gestures, ‘It’s like every time you’re around, all he can do is think with his dick.’

B scoffs now, crossing her arms, and she’s got an exaggerated smile on her face. ‘You’re fucking jealous.’

‘I’m not jealous, I’m pissed that he decided to ruin our relationship.’

‘Ruin? What are you talking about?’

‘When you introduced Craig to the group, we were together. Now that he’s decided to get comfortable in your life, we’re not together anymore. You do the math.’

B stands there with her mouth open, no longer smiling. She doesn’t say anything, and I can feel myself getting frustrated.

‘Can you say something?’ I feel my face start to turn red. 

I hear the door sliding open behind me, ‘What's going on out here?’

‘Oh great, perfect.’ I say, feeling my body swaying as I throw my arms up to welcome Craig into our conversation, ‘B, your knight in shining armour is here.’

Craig looks over at B, confused, ‘What the fuck is she talking about?’

‘Couldn't fucking tell you, Craig.’ I look at B. She looks really tired. Tired of me. 

‘You gave up,’ A part of me doesn't know what I’m saying as I point my finger at B, ‘You found something better,’ I point at Craig: ‘and you gave up.’ Back at B.

Craig’s backyard goes quiet, and I can feel my heart thump in my throat to the beat of the muffled music inside. B is staring at me, and I can't even bring myself to look at Craig.

‘I gave up because you refused to change.’ She says it so coldly. I feel my cheeks burning under the cool wind through the night. People from inside are watching us now. I don’t want to bring attention to them, I don’t want B to know they’re there. 

I know that once again, I’ve taken it too far. B’s chest is heaving, the knuckles on her right hand go white as she clenches her fist, and I see how she wants to clench her other fist but can’t because of the cast. She’s staring at me the same way she did when she broke up with me that morning four weeks ago. I’d pleaded, begged her to stay. 

‘No, wait, B I’m-’ I try to say it, but my own body stops me. Craig’s parents’ lawn met the same fate that their sink did. In front of B, I spray out all of the stolen corona that’s in my system. I have to get on all fours from the force of the expulsion.

‘Grow up, Jamie. Seriously.’ I can hear B say, repulsed. Craig is murmuring something to her, then the footsteps start to move away. I keep my head down; I don’t want her to see the tears falling from my chin and mixing with my vomit below.

I don’t think about the people watching me from inside. This time Lily won’t be coming out to ask me if I’m ok, and Henry won’t lie down with me like he used to. Sides have been picked. 

I lie down next to the puddle of my tears and vomit. The grass is damp. No one follows, and no one comes back outside. I rub my arms in the cool night air, aching as my fingertips run over the bruise that B left on them. 

I still call it karma, it just wasn't hers.