Philip Siegel - The Break-Up Artist

A half hour later, I waltz into Diane’s room with my laptop. I’m thinking this will be my last case as the Break-Up Artist, so I better make it count. Bari and Calista are onto me. Who knows if they’ve recruited others.

Diane finishes folding laundry. My mom wants her to do more chores around the house, and watching talk shows doesn’t count.

Without notice, the kiss with Ezra rears its ugly head again. Why do I keep thinking about him at the most random times? Is laundry some kind of subliminal trigger? I remind myself that I kissed my best friend’s boyfriend. I could be stoned to death in parts of the world for that.

Diane snaps her fingers in my face. “What’s gotten into you? Are you still hung up on that Colin guy?”

“No.” Of course not. I have a new boy to fixate on. Is that true? This is how a girl becomes guy obsessed. Will I just keep finding guys to pine for, an addict perpetually in search of my next fix?

“Don’t lie to me, Becca. I’m your sister. I used to change your diaper.”

I have to tell somebody. I have to say what happened out loud, to somebody. And Diane’s right. We are sisters. If I can’t tell her, then who can I tell? Definitely not my best friend.

“I kissed Ezra, Val’s boyfriend.”

Diane snorts when she laughs.

“I’m a horrible person.”

“You’re only a horrible person if you enjoyed it.”

She catches the extra current of shame rippling across my face. “Becca!”

This is bad. Even Diane is taking Val’s side. Every rush of excitement I get from thinking back on it causes an equal and opposite reaction of disgust. What if Val finds out? What if anyone at Ashland finds out? Is there a scarlet letter for bad friendery?

“I don’t know what to do,” I say. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“That’s easy. Don’t do it again.”

“What if I want to?” A week ago, I would’ve rolled my eyes and walked away from a person talking such nonsense.

Diane doesn’t roll her eyes. Her expression turns solemn. I wonder if she knew this day would come eventually.

“So you like him?” she asks.

I nod my head. I don’t know if there exists a tipping point for officially liking someone, but I believe I’m hitting the major criteria. Can’t stop thinking about him. Uncontrollably smiling when I do think of him. Want to see him right now.

“He sounds like a creep,” she says.

“No, he’s a good guy.”

“He’s dating your best friend and openly pursuing you. I don’t have a dictionary on hand, but I’d say that’s a creep.”

“It’s not like that. You don’t understand.” I picture the way Ezra acted with me, so delicate and sweet. He didn’t have a secret agenda. Diane only views people’s actions in black-and-white—mostly black.

“Will Val understand? You do realize that if you want a relationship with lover boy, your relationship with Val is over.” Diane scowls at me, taking this very seriously for someone not involved. “Are you going to be one of those girls who happily ditches her friends for a guy?”

That leaves a bruise.

“It’s not like I meant for this to happen. It just did. I’m still trying to make sense of it, and I thought I could talk to you about it honestly. I thought for one day you could drop the whole ‘everybody sucks’ mentality.”

I set my laptop next to her. “Can you just make the call? I wrote out what to say.”

Diane gives me a disappointed look, as if I must always view her life as a cautionary tale. She peruses my script.

“And use a Southern accent.”

Diane dials Steve’s house. She rests her feet on the clean-clothes pile.

“Hello, Mr. Overland? How are you doing today? I work for Coach Robert Latham at Chandler University. I was calling to find out if Steve is coming down next weekend to check out our lovely campus....He hasn’t told you about it? Teenagers today!”

I stifle a laugh at Diane’s over-the-top accent. She’s watched Steel Magnolias one too many times.

“Greg Baylor had mentioned Steve was visiting next weekend during our open house....News to you? Well, here’s some news for you. It’s a great opportunity! All-expenses paid, meet with the coach and players, bunk in the dorms. I think he would really enjoy it.”

Diane gives me the thumbs-up. We can argue, but she’s always there when I need her. The definition of a Grade-A sister.

“...Of course. I understand. Absolutely discuss it with Steve, and just send us an email. You can even talk to Coach Latham directly, if you want. Don’t even have to bring up talking to lil’ ole me....Uh-huh. Sounds good. And tell Steve it’s seventy-five and sunny here. You have a wonderful night, sir.”

Love is in the air at Ashland. But not for long.

I’m woken up, not by it finally being light at this hour of the morning (hello, daylight savings!), but by the buzzing of my phone at five forty-five in the morning. From an unknown number. Curiosity overtakes grogginess, and I answer.

“Two-point-oh. Did I wake you?”

“Aimee?” Diane’s friends always called me Two-point-oh, a newer version of my sister. Leave it to her to call apart from Erin and Marian. She always did her own thing, even if that included calling at insanely early hours. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“The baby loves to kick.”

“Wow! It’ll be born before you’re twenty-five. You’ll be more of an older sister,” I say with a laugh. I don’t get why people want to have kids so young. I’ve heard your twenties are the best years of your life. Why do you want to waste them changing diapers? But Aimee always had a competitive streak, and if Erin could pop one out, then so could she—without gaining as much weight.

Wait—why am I making chitchat with my sister’s alleged friend at too-early o’clock?

“What do you want?” I ask. That sounds rude, but she can attribute that to lack of sleep.

“I want to talk to Diane. We all do. This has gone on long enough. I don’t know why Diane is so mad at us, but it’s time to clear the air.”

She makes it sound like Diane’s some little kid having a tantrum. “It’s been a tough year for her.”

“I wouldn’t know. She hasn’t spoken to me.”

“You don’t know what she went through.” My heart speeds up. I wasn’t expecting a fight this morning. I stay on the defensive. Even though what Aimee’s saying is technically true, like with my mom, Diane doesn’t have anyone else in her corner. It’s forever us versus the couples. “She was devastated. She was in shock for weeks.”

“I don’t know why,” Aimee says.

That puts me into shock. No need for coffee. I am awake.

“The writing was on the wall for months with them. I’m shocked they didn’t call it off sooner.”

“First of all, they didn’t. He did. Six hours before! If he knew from the beginning that his family wouldn’t let him marry a non-Indian girl, then why did he continue to string my sister along?”

“A non-Indian girl?”

“Yeah. His family said that if he didn’t marry an Indian girl, he would lose his inheritance.”

Aimee doesn’t say anything. I’ve heard of pregnancy brain, where you forget certain things, but did she honestly forget about that? “Is that what Diane told you?”

“Sankresh just wanted some fun before finding a traditional Indian wife.”

“Becca.” She lets out a long exhale, like people do when they have to say something they really don’t want to. “Two of his older brothers married white girls, and his family didn’t say a word.”

“Maybe not in public.”

“Being Indian had nothing to do with it. You think he would’ve waited until just before the wedding to call it off? Trust me, that was the least of their problems, and Diane knows it.”

“Then why didn’t she break it off?”

“Because she wanted to get married.” Aimee stops herself. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s not true.” I grip my phone until I feel the plastic buckling. “It’s not like you care.”

“But I do! We all care! Diane is one of my best friends. Even though she won’t talk to any of us, I still consider her one of my closest friends.”

“Seriously?” I wonder why they kept trying, when Diane wasn’t giving them anything back. Was their friendship really that strong?

“She was there for me when I was in a dark place, almost as dark as where she is now. It’s a weird-ass bond we all have, and now she won’t even talk to me. Do you know what that’s like?” I find myself nodding without realizing it. Diane can be stubborn, but she needs the maxipad girls.

I have some time before I need to hop in the shower. “I know how you can see Diane again.”

* * *

With ten days to go until opening night, rehearsals have been stretched an extra hour, which feels like an extra decade. Each minute is another challenge to not look over at Ezra, and to stop wondering if he’s looking at me. In those moments (and there have been plenty) when I succumb to temptation and turn my head to him, he’s distracted with painting or talking to his crewmates.

“Huxley, can we take a break?” Ally says, wobbling around. “I’m feeling a little dizzy.”

“If you must,” Huxley says, looking unimpressed. “Let’s take a quick water break.”

I’m relieved. Most of my hydration has sweated onto my clothes. I stumble to the water fountain with my empty bottle. Who knows what kinds of germs rest on it, but I don’t care. Must have water.

Kerry fills up hers and Ally’s water bottles. “Did you hear that another girl came forward claiming that she hired the Break-Up Artist? Urban legend, my ass.”

“I think between her, Sarah, Bari and Calista, they should find her in no time,” Ally says. I suddenly feel fully hydrated, but I can’t move. I must keep eavesdropping.