THE RULES OF REGRET (release date mid-Sept) Silence--minutes of it--fell around us like flakes of snow, drifting down, coating us with a chilling cold that drew up the fine hairs on my skin. Torin used his arm underneath me to roll me up onto his chest, and I locked my fingers together behind his back, his heart sandwiched against my ear. I listened to it—listened to the way it kept a metronomic beat—and in that moment, it felt like it belonged to me. And when I felt my own beats slow to match the consistent rhythm of his, it felt like it became a part of me, too. Lance always said I had his heart. But I didn’t anymore. That was just something he began reciting when we were young, but nothing I’d felt recently. You couldn’t just declare something like that and have it stay true forever, especially when he’d given pieces of it to others along the way. There was more to love than words. A relationship had a pulse, a pattern, like the heartbeats written and recorded on an EKG. The ups and the downs, but consistencies nonetheless. Falling out of that pattern, that was when things got dangerous. The flat line was the killer, and my relationship with Lance had already died many deaths. What I’d recently found to be true was the idea that giving away your heart was a steady process, one that occurred gradually until all the beats morphed together. My beats. Torin’s beats. They were suddenly the same percussion ramming inside our beings. And so was our guilt. And so—I’d also discovered—were our stories.
Posted on: Wed, 14 Aug 2013 04:00:24 +0000
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