Page 134 of The Breaking Pointe
“Noelle. This is Daddy.”A deep voice fills the silence in my ears.“I know you’re feeling like things won’t change. I’m here to tell you that they do.It’s not gonna happen, though, if you don’t try. I need you to pick it up.”
Irestmyelbowsonmythighs,listeningmore.
“I mean, really pick yourself up.The floor is cold.Nobody down there can help you. But you can. Find that inkling—that inner power inside you. Pick yourself up. Do yourself that favor, okay?Be honest with yourself.Love yourself.These are the things that will pick you up. You can’t dance when you’re lying on the floor, baby girl,”he says, embodying a self-help coach
as he goes on.
This is the man who’s made her so determined.It all makes sense now.
“When you pick it up, hang onto it, Noelle. Your time is coming, but the time to get up is now.Make it happen,”he says.
The tape clicks again, indicating that it’s ended, leaving me astounded.
I open the cassette player and take it out, replacing it with another labeledIf You’re Feeling Alone.
“Hey, honey. I want you to know that me and Mom aren’t as far as it feels. Miles mean nothing. Distance is only a word for space between.It has nothing to do with the amount of love you have for someone,”he says.
The face of my mother takes over my thoughts.
“Did you know that if you love someone enough, it remains? It holds a place in your heart until you force it out. Only you can force it out, but we would never do that.We loved you before you were even here. We knew. Love knows. Do you hear me?”he asks, making me shut my eyes.
“I hear you,” I whisper.
34
what is love?
NOELLE
My fingers runs along the counter as I stare out the window, watching the snowy rain hit the streets.It looks cold and dirty, as opposed to the warmth and cleanliness inside the coffee shop. The rain is fitting. I feel like shit, and so does the Earth. So it’s crying. That’s what I want to do. I want to be dramatic and scream at the top of my lungs.
Instead, I’m serving coffee to nobody on a cold, rainy day, for seven hours.I wanna pull my hair out one by one, by each individual strand.
“Hey, taste this,” Annie says, elbowing me as she holds a mug.
“What is it?” I ask, sitting up and taking it. “Caramelandpistachiomachiatto.”Shesmiles.
I nod once, taking a sip, feeling the warm heat run down my inside.
“Good,” I say, holding it out for her again.
Her smile drops and she rolls her eyes. “Okay, if caramel and pistachio can’t make you smile, and none of my horrible jokes can, either—I’m out of options, Mayberry.Talk to me.”
She’s just like my mom. It’s why I love her.
“I’m just letting my thoughts run a muck.As all of us women do,” I give in.
“It’s making you look out the window like the main character in a bad indie movie. So it must be pretty intense,” she suggests, leaning on the counter.
I laugh softly.
“Ha!I did it!”She claps.
“You did.” I nod, drinking more of the macchiato. “So,” she draws out the word, “tell me what it is.”
I set the mug down. “Right,” I say, “tell me how dumb I sound?” I glare at her.
“It isn’t dumb if it makes you upset,” she reassures me, nodding slowly.
