The Different Types of Heartbreak, As According to a 7 & 17 Year Old

Heart·break: (/ˈhärtˌbrāk/)

noun

overwhelming distress.

"an unforgettable tale of joy and heartbreak"

See also: · distress · grief · suffering

*

It was the season of pink and red hearts and overpriced, hard-to-pronounce chocolate

celebratory gift packages, otherwise known as Valentine’s Day. I let my fingers trace over the

yellow price tag reading $16.99 for a teddy bear, and then over the $12.99 tag below the Ferro Rechero chocolate bars beautifully packaged in a pinkish-purple basket. Even at 6 years old, I knew those amounts of money could buy a decent amount of chocolate bars and a teddy bear and still have enough money left over to buy chicken nuggets or a Spiderman popsicle. But here, you can only get one or the other.

“Beeta, deehkli heh? Have you had a good look? Decided what you wanted?”

My father’s English-Urdu dialogue broke me back to reality. I glance at my father, still

giving him the cold shoulder from earlier. He had gotten my sisters not one, but two Hershey

bars for today, and got me nothing. After I played the role of a lifetime displaying my best

temper tantrum, my dad took me to CVS - despite my older siblings’ protests - to pick out

whatever I wanted. I was still angry.

My father, sensing this, instead pointed to the stuffed animals down the aisle. I looked

down at the linoleum tiles on the floor, once a sparkling white, now a dull gray, trying to hide a smile. Damn, my dad was good. He always knew what I had a soft spot for.

We walked down the aisle, my father offering me his hand and me gingerly taking it.

There were infinitely many teddy bears; some brown, some yellow, some blue, one missing half of its arm - to be seen on the floor with the stuffing half out and loose thread. They were all cute, but the trouble was having to decide which one to take.

Suddenly, I hear my dad stifling a chuckle. Curious, and a bit peeved - how dare he get to

laugh when I’m angry at him! - I see what he’s laughing at, and it’s a pink bunny amidst all the teddy bears. How’d that get there? I thought.

“Why are you laughing?” I ask, as dangerously as a seven-year-old can muster. (Which,

of course, wasn’t much.)

“Beeta, beeta,” my dad says, in between his laughs, “he looks like you when you are mad

at me!”

The pink bunny’s white muzzle gave the unflattering image of a beard with the

surrounding pink fur covering the toy’s circle pink-black marble eyes into a menacing half circle. Cute, but deadly. That’s how everyone saw me. How my dad saw me.

“Papa!” I exclaim, punching him in the shoulder. “That’s so mean! Aap nay ese thara kuy

boleh?” I pout, crossing my arms. My dad grabs the bunny, and poses it to do the same thing. When I turn my head, trying not to let him see me laugh, he comes in front of me, crossing his arms, pouting.

I give in, and laugh. He laughs too, and embraces me, along with Bunny, who we take to

the register and welcome home.

*

As I fiddle with Bunny and Scream is playing on the TV, I anxiously watch as the clock

ticks down to midnight, signifying the start to a new beginning. My new year, of 17. I tried to let myself into slumber, but Farah would not let me.

“Bitch, I came all the way from New Jersey for your ass. We gonna stay up!”

I wanted to reply that she invited herself over, and I never really had the option to say no,

but just timidly nodded. She had just ended her on-and-off relationship with her boyfriend, who she only dated for a year, but loved for six. An hour before, she took my phone and called him and sent heated messages to him because he had blocked her number, Snap, Instagram, Tiktok, and even Kik. Now, using Kik in 2021 is a lot more heartbreaking to me, but for Farah, Jonu dumping her on top of her furry four-legged baby Ally passing was too much grief she could not handle alone. So I decided to let her come and celebrate a day I don’t particularly like, because it pains me to be reminded that I have only this day to exist, and still, all these years, never quite learned how to be.

“Watchu thinking about?” Farah asks me, interrupting my thoughts and causing me to

choke on the Hot & Spicy Shrimp Cup Noodles on hand, bits of the noodle falling out my mouth. “Why did she even tell him she liked him like they’re gonna die now,” I BS, trying to fool Farah. It worked well enough.

Like clockwork, at the strike of 11:57 P.M., Farah went to “use the bathroom” and I was

left alone with the brightly colorful slasher series on T.V. and my thoughts. Luckily, as midnight struck, she and my two sisters came with the music and silver sparkling candles we’ve come accustomed to in the Tariq household. As the initial hype and crazy calms down, I see the cake they got me that’s a white heart shape with purple stripes and sprinkles in the shape of glittery orbs with pastel purple colored chocolate on the side.

“It’s a heartbreak cake,” Farah explained, handing me a small wooden mallet. “Break it to

let go of the shit you faced like the last 16 years and be able to start this year fresh.”

I held the mallet for a second, and thought about what she had said to me. I handed the

mallet to her.

“Why don’t we break this heart together?” I said with a smile.

She smiles back. Together, hand-in-hand, we swing, and the heart breaks, shattering into

a million tiny chocolate vanilla pieces, glittery orb sprinkles, everywhere.

*

Heartbreak has taught me a lot of things. One namely being that it doesn’t have to be

romantic, even though ghosting that one cute person from Tiktok was hard. First time someone wanted me, hijab in all, and wasn’t afraid of that. I think that scared me.

Heartbreak is scary. Sometimes you know it’s coming, like when your good morning

texts to your best friend become less and less lively, accompanied by fewer emojis, turning into “have a good weekend!”, to “wyd”, to eventual nothingness.

Heartbreak is the nothingness you feel, lying alone awake in your bed at night, wondering

why they won’t text you back, why don’t they love you back.

Heartbreak is accepting that some people come into your life, just to show you how much

it hurts when they leave.

Heartbreak is coming to terms that Bunny will last longer in your life than Dad will.

Heartbreak is accepting your dad will not live to see you graduate.

Heartbreak is hard.

But sometimes, in order to fully heal, you need to completely break.